maskormenacelogs | everybody's out on the run tonight

[ This guy was late as hell. ]

[ Adachi kept checking at his communicator, frowning at it as the minutes ticked by. It wasn't too much of a stretch for him to be making small talk and deals with the more petty criminals at the Falls; he knew how to play this game, especially when his only resource was himself and he didn't have a partner or a police department to back him up. Getting a courier to deliver something to him while he was out on the street wasn't too much of a stretch for him, and to help him avoid whatever leach scum Dookie hired to get him the information from finding out where he lived. ]

[ That still didn't mean he had to be late! ]

Ugh... did this moron's car break down or something? Sheesh...

[Yes. This moron's car did, in fact, break down, because Han's using a new, less conspicuous car for this delivery, and his power just loves to kick in at the worst times.

Anyway—it's working now, and Han's quietly cursing Dooku and his weird mysterious ways, because honestly. Honestly. Deliver a package to some detective in a suit out on the street? That's sure going to be easy—

Oh. There is a guy in a suit on the street, apparently, so Han pulls over, rolls the window down, and leans out to give the guy a long look. Something about him is passably familiar, he thinks.]

You this Adachi fella?

You're la--

[ Adachi paused, frowning as he approached. He has totally, definitely seen this guy before, and not just passing him by on the street in Heropa. ]

...do I know you?

[Is this a Goldfinch thing, with those movies? Probably not. Hopefully not. Which leaves the possibility of Han having somehow pissed off this guy at some point because of some slight Han can't really remember now. He coughs, and turns the collar of his jacket up as if that'd hide his identity.]

I don't owe you anything. I'm sure of that. [Really, he is.] Anyway, I've got a package for you. Don't say it, I know I'm late, my car broke down.

Edited 2017-08-19 13:45 (UTC)

[ Adachi frowned in thought. The shitty car, the bad attitude... after a moment, it clicked in his head, and he snapped his fingers. ]

That stupid dream!

[Oh.

Oh, no.]

Kriff. [He says this with the tone of someone who has tried his hardest to forget that dream. He'd even succeeded for a while there.] All right, so what were you calling yourself in there?

[ Adachi, meanwhile, has a big ass fucking grin on his face. Yeah, it sucked that he died, but his experience being a freedom fighter had been great for the most part. ]

You knew me in there as The Jester. You know; the guy with the mask.

[It's a lovely two-story house set at the bottom of a long, sloping lawn and drive. Out of the way, quiet and ringed by trees, it's the perfect hideaway for a middle-aged married couple operating on the fringes of society.

Also a touch paranoid, going by the electronic gate, camera set into the door, and the automatic voice that answers any knock or doorbell press.]

"This is private property. State your name and business."

[It's a little weird, driving up to this quiet little house, perfect for hiding away from the rest of society, instead of breaking in as Han used to do. But he's adaptable, so he shakes off the dissonance quickly as he walks up to the door.

Absently, he wonders how he'd break in here, too. It'd be more difficult, he thinks, without Chewie around to stand as a lookout, but the security level seems about the same as—right, no, not that heist. That heist ended terribly for all involved.

He presses the doorbell, waves a little at where he's pretty sure the camera is.] Han Solo. I've got a package here for a—Dr. Gottlieb?

[~~Probably the balcony~~.

The door opens a short minute later, with Hermann looking about as harried as he generally does, leaning on his cane and giving Han a not at all subtle once-over.]

I don't believe I'm expecting any deliveries, Mr. Solo. Where is this coming from?

[In answer, Han gives him his most charming, roguish smile. Some people, like, say, a certain princess, would call it a smug, self-satisfied scoundrel's smirk.]

Sent by Dooku. All he said was you'd be here, but I kinda thought he'd have said something to you. [His gaze flicks from Hermann, who he's quietly decided doesn't seem like much of a threat at the moment (emphasis on at the moment, he's seen too much to not be wary even of a man with a pronounced limp) to the house.] Nice place you got here. Don't suppose you have some food around? I wasn't able to get lunch.

[Sorry Han, you're not his type.]

Dooku? [Sounding faintly alarmed, then frowns and scrutinizes the package. Could it be..? But really, he didn't actually expect cooperation after he'd refused to share his own data..

Hermann takes the package with his free hand, then raises brows at Han's request. Evaluates him over again. Caution wars with courtesy.]

What's your relationship with Dooku?

Strictly professional. [Han wouldn't trust the guy very much, but he would trust, say, his bank account. He tucks his hands into his pockets, casual and seemingly carefree, rocks back and forth on his heels.] He hired me to do a job. I'm doing it right now.

[Beyond that, and the price, Han hasn't asked.]

You two fall out or anything? [He really is just curious, idly prodding Hermann to see what falls out.]

[When Han arrives, the address he's given appears to be something like an abandoned storefront that's been converted quietly into a mechanic's garage. The door is unlocked, light dimly showing a path through the hallway to the brick and cement workroom inside. Parts, tools and half-built gadgets were strewn about in piles of organized chaos, along with a few knickknacks- a boombox, a mini-fridge, a stray food wrapper.]

[Most eyecatching, though, was the nearly-finished motorcycle parked against the side of the room. Sleek and black, with a subtle batwing-like design swooping over the fenders lined with an edge of gold. The vents were flanged crimson, and the handlebars seemed designed into a V-shaped crest over the front headlight.]

[The information Han had been given indicated someone would be there to receive it, of course, but when he arrives it will appear as if no one is there, although there's a dim few lightbulbs on, hanging from the ceiling and lamps on a makeshift drawing board. If Han wants to, he might as well try to snoop around a bit before his client shows himself, right?]

[This guy's easier to get to than the others—he's somewhere on the outskirts of Heropa. Han barely has to go out of his way to find the address, and he absently files the route away for later use—if he ever needs another mechanic, maybe. It doesn't hurt to be prepared, considering what happened during that mess with the clones.

He steps inside. No one's here yet, and Han finds himself absently picking up parts, tools, turning them over and then putting them back down, drifting towards the drawing board and wondering just the designs on them are for, committing them to memory as best as he can. He steps towards the minifridge, and quickly decides that the client's probably not going to miss a snack. Or two—one in his pocket and one in his mouth.

But what pulls his eye is the speeder bike. Or, what did they call it, motorcycle? He whistles lowly when he sees it, stepping forward and tracing fingers along the handlebars.]

Haven't seen a speeder bike like this in months. [He speaks to no one in particular, his voice tinged with nostalgia.] Wonder how fast she can go?

Fast enough. This era is a little behind on a lot of things, but combustible engines don't seem to be one of them, really.

[Comes a voice from behind Han, casual. The middle-aged man, who wasn't there just a second before, sips from a coffee mug where he sits in a stool pushed to the far side of the room. The white collar at his throat may carry no meaning to Han, but it's half-heartedly hidden under a bomber jacket. He gestures towards the fridge.] Buy me a beer and I'll call it even.

You got something for me, pal?

[To Han's credit, he doesn't jump. He just goes still for a moment, the eerie quiet still of a soldier (as much as Han protests that he's not), before he relaxes once more into a smuggler's casual demeanor. Or at least tries to, there's still some tension left in his shoulders, even as he turns and gives the man a roguish smirk and a shrug.

The white collar under the bomber jacket doesn't signify much, for Han. The fact that there was even a half-hearted attempt at hiding it does, and he files that away for later. Just in case. He also takes the snack bar out of his mouth.]

"A little behind" is putting it lightly. [He taps a finger on a handlebar, lightly.] But yeah, I'll give their engines that much—they're not as far behind from what I'm used to, at least in terms of speeders.

[He glances at the fridge. Yeah, okay, fair.] Tell you what, I'll buy you two beers if you let me take her for a spin.

[Does his ability work on motorcycles? Boy, he sure hopes not.]

Matter of fact, I do.

[Before Han turns and can meet Duo's face, he's not hiding his own expression. The slow, tiny curl of his mouth in the recognition he gets from that calm reaction tells him volumes. So does the forced ease into a false demeanor- all too familiar.]

Keep it. [Duo preempts, raising an eyebrow as he takes the bar out of his mouth, before Han even tries to counter-offer. To that, he flashes a cheerful smile.] Not a chance in hell.

--But! If you got me some good info, you can look her over. Had to scavenge the parts from all over; let me tell you, finding that Ducati engine took me a while. The rest wasn't so bad, the Harley bodies were plentiful since they're manufactured in this country.

[Further inspection of the bike would reveal a long, bottom-hinged storage compartment running along the body and mounted under the right footrest; the sort of thing you could kick open on a moment's notice. The suspension had been made as smooth as possible, to prevent any extra vibrations or noise during riding.]

[He shrugs.]

Worth a shot.

[It's probably for the best, he's not sure how his ability would work on a motorcycle. And on a beauty like this, it'd just be a crying shame. Look at the suspension, he could cry. He gives the bike one last gentle and almost reverent pat on the handlebars, and takes the parcel out of his jacket.]

I got your info. Tell me where you found that Ducati engine and the compartment—might be I'll put something together, myself. [That hopefully won't break down on him.]

Edited (picky about icons) 2017-08-25 13:51 (UTC)

[Duo's eyes flick to the parcel as soon as it's pulled out, but doesn't make any motion to rise from his seat. Arms crossed, he gives a quiet snort at the offer, then nods his chin towards the worktable.] Put 'er there.

[He waits for Han to drop the goods before he does rise, crossing over the room towards it, eyes always still on Han (and the bike). He draws a pair of white gloves from his pocket and, donning them, picks up the envelope.]

Now, why would a trade salvager reveal his secrets like that? You gotta give me a little motivation to give you such good info. [He pauses, eyes flicking over the first few of the photos.] --Cuz I know you're not the one to thank for getting these babies.

[8AM 18/8, the 4th bench along the towpath from the gate on West Canalside Drive.

Unlike the other packages that Han is to deliver this one isn't labelled with a name (at Gemini's specific request), merely the time and the place. The location is alongside Maurtia Falls roaring canal, where a series of graffiti covered rusty benches lie alongside the muddy towpath, the only people at this early hour a few intrepid joggers braving the roughness of the neighbourhood and the threat of rain.

Han will have been left to wait a good five minutes before one of the joggers, a young blonde woman in a bright yellow 'Enjoy Life More' t-shirt pulls up next to the bench, giving Han a speculative look as she tugs an iPod earphones from her right ear.]

Hey. You Han Solo? [She knows that he is, but it suits Gemini to pretend otherwise.]

[Han doesn't really mind waiting that much, especially since in the five minutes before the jogger shows up, he manages to find a nearby hot dog stall that's opening up for the day and procured a hot dog for himself. He's halfway through when the girl jogs up to his bench.

He blinks up at her. Definitely not what he expected given the last few people who got packages off of him.]

Uh, yeah. [He straightens up.] Who's asking?

[The girl raises an eyebrow at the question, a sinister smile that doesn't belong on the blonde's sweet face curling at her lips.]

Really Mr Solo? It's asking questions like that which can get a guy killed.

[She emphasises the last word in an almost too-sweet tone, then lifts a hand and gestures for him to hand the parcel over.]

[Something about her tone, about the way she smiles, about what she says makes Han's hairs stand on end. What the hell? What has he gotten himself into this time? Whatever it is, he's pretty sure he can get out of it. Somehow.

He gives her a disaffected shrug, a smile that doesn't quite reach his wary eyes.]

Can't blame a guy for being curious now, huh? [But he hands the parcel over.]

Some might. In this line of work asking questions usually isn't in the job description.

[That sinister undertone vanishes almost as quickly as it came, but the wariness in Han's eyes is matched by the icy stare of a predator, despite the kindly blue orbs that she currently sports.

She holds the package against her stomach, the next time Han looks away it'll sink into her body and vanish without trace. Gemini doesn't want to be seen carrying this package, even in disguise.]

everybody's out on the run tonight

Maurita Falls

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In a town outside De Chima

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A makeshift garage in the outskirts of Heropa

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A Canalside Bench in Maurtia Falls

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