Brimstone: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home from the Bar.
By Alison Sky


"You know, Wes, Ooryl does not know how you get yourself into these messes 
sometimes."  Ooryl Qrygg sat on the other side of a window, staring at the 
bloodied face of Wes Janson.  "Ooryl is a findsman, and even Ooryl can not 
answer this question."

Wes smirked, his split lip spliting again, causing him to wince immediatly.  
"I like ta keep you guessing, I guess," he replied.

"You keep everyone guessing, Wes.  Ooryl thinks it's the only way you get 
to keep your job."

"Well, when something works, you have to stick with it."

Ooryl shook his head, making sounds that were the gand's version of 
laughter.  "Now, explain to Ooryl how you did this again?"

"What's the bet going down in Downtime?" Wes leaned back in his chair, 
fingers laced behind his head... as best as the stuncuffs would let him, 
that is.

"Rogues say you lost at sabacc, Wraiths say you got drunk and hit on a girl 
who was too much for you."  Ooryl answered.

"Actually, it was neither."  Wes gave his sly grin.  "It all started when I 
left the bar..."

~~~

Wes rubbed his head, twisting himself around on the ground, laughing at his 
own clumsiness.  "Oh man, who parked the swoop in front of the bar!" he 
asked.

"Yer about twenty feet from the bar, old man," a voice snarled back.  "And 
yet you still tripped over my bike."

Wes looked up at the twenty something human male leaning over the swoop 
bike.  He wore black leather pants and a dark blue shirt with a bright red 
vest that had some strange writing on it.  The kid's hair was in a 
permenant set of spikes upwards with one that fell across his face.

"Sorry, I was just walking home, and I thought it was this way."  Wes sat 
up and rubbed his head, laughing.

"Hey, ain't that a Rogue Squadron patch on your jacket?" A lady walked up 
behind the swoop bike kid, wrapping her arms around his waist.  She was 
barely covered in her little red leather outfit, but her twin ponytails 
made her face look more innocent than the outfit did.

"That is it, ma'am."  Wes stood himself up, dusting himself off.  "You're 
looking at one of the originals."

"Didn't you all die, like years ago from old age?" The man joked, smirking.

"Nah, you'd be amazed at what bacta can do these days."  Wes smirked back, 
then held out his hand.  "Major Wes Janson, and you two are?"

"Nahog," the man replied, staring at Wes' hand but not shaking it.  "And 
this here's Lediv."

"Aren't you the one who's, like a sharpshooter, but anything else you aim 
for goes down in flames?" Lediv asked, giggling.

"Depends on what I'm aiming for."  He winked at the girl.

Nahog snorted.  "I hear you're a good pilot.  Care for a race?"  He 
motioned with his head to another swoop nearby.

"Normally I'd say yes, but I'm a bit intoxicated right now." Wes rubbed the 
back of his neck.

"Oh, surely a member of Rogue Squadron, especially a veteren like yourself, 
would be able to beat me on a simple swoop bike race even if he was a bit 
drunk?" Nahog said with a raised eyebrow.  "Unless you're chicken, that 
is."

~~~~

"You didn't?" Ooryl asked.

"Of course I did!" Wes replied.  "I had a reputation to uphold."

"But you had how many drinks?"

"That doesn't matter."  Wes waved his hand dismissivly.  "I could have 
flown that bike perfectly drugged and handcuffed behind my back."

"And yet you still managed to fall through that window?"

"I'm getting to that part.  You want to hear the story or not?"

"Ooryl doesn't have a choice.  Qyrgg drew the shortest straw at Downtime."

"Ah, it's good to know I still can draw a crowd.  So, there I was, on this 
swoop..."

~~~

"You doing ok on those controls?  I know your old age might keep you from 
understanding such modern machinery..."  Nahog snickered as he took his 
green helmet from Lediv.

"OH, just shut up already.  Where we flying?"  Wes took a similar helmet, 
putting the comlink antennas up.  "And who the hell designed these helmets?  
They look like something out of a Loran holodrama."

Lediv's eyes lit up.  "Loran is a god, a model of actors of his time."

Wes rolled his eyes.  "You both need help, that's for sure," he muttered, 
putting the helmet on.

"I call it the Nijiyas run."  Wes heard Nahog through his helmet.  A 
display appeared in the lenses, transparent enough to still see through 
without harming visability.  "Follow that route, and whoever can get to the 
end first wins.  Simple enough for you, old man?"

"Yeah, I got it.  Any rules I should be aware of?"

"Rules?  What's that?"  You could just hear the smirk through Nahog's 
voice.  "Shall I give you a head start?"

Wes snarled.  "You can take your head start and shove it..."

"OOO, the old man talks some big words.  Let's see if you can live up to 
the ego of yours."

Lediv got in front of the bikes, holding a scarf in her hands.  Wes and 
Nahog revved their engines, and when she dropped the scarf, they both took 
off, yellow energy bursts spraying from the backs of the bikes.

Through the underground of Coruscant they sped, two swoops weaving in and 
out of the lower levels, people jumping out of their way and then nearly 
blinded from the golden afterburn.  Wes found that he was fighting the 
controls a bit more than he should have. *Figures that the kid would give 
me the lesser of two bikes. Probably is set to explode if I try to pass 
him.*

Which Wes, finally after compensating for the steering problems, was about 
to do.  He smirked through his helmet at the racer, then started to edge 
ahead.

That, of course, was when Nahog smashed his swoop sideways into Wes, 
pressing the Rogue against the wall of the building they were passing.  Wes 
cussed and steered back, and soon they were in a shoving match high above 
ground level, their swoops intertangled.

And as things got worse, what would happen but a NR Police Speeder came up 
on their tails, lights flashing.  Nahog growled.  "Well, guess this ends as 
a tie, old man.  Enjoy the ride."  With that, he jumped off the swoop and 
opened his jacket, gliding himself down to a lower walkway.

"Oh sith," Wes growled.  It was no use trying to steer two fused swoops, so 
he looked for a good jumping point... and jumped.

~~~~

"Is that how you got bruised?"  Ooryl asked.

 "Naah, I fell on something soft.  'Course that something soft was a 
Hutt..."

~~~~~

"Oh man I'm sorry sir... I mean ma'am!  Please don't get up I swear it was 
just an accident.  Send me a bill for the window and the... yes, I see it's 
an expensive brassier and I'm SORRY I used it like a cushion... oh gods 
please ma'am..."

Wes was backing in the corner... a large... Angry.... NAKED Hutt female 
poised overtop of him, screaming in Huttese while waving what appeared to 
be a ripped fishing net in the air.  He basically had broken through her 
window, ripped through the fishnet looking brassier that was hanging to dry 
in the window, then straight on top of the female Hutt who Wes could only 
guess was getting ready for her mate to return.

The door opened and an even larger male Hutt entered the room, hearing his 
mate's screams.  He saw Wes and just growled.

"Oh sith, this just doesn't get any better, does it?"

~~~~~

Ooryl laid his head on his table.  "Only you, Wes."

"Yeah, well after he royally kicked my behind, he then called the security 
force and they brought me here."  Wes sat forward.  "So, who was betting on 
a Hutt battle?" he asked.

"Actually, Ellassar took it as the dummy bet," Ooryl stated.  "Must be his 
lucky day."

The door behind Ooryl opened and Face Loran strode in.  "Sorry to interrupt 
the betting pool, but we've got a problem."

Wes raised an eyebrow.  "What kind of problem?"

"Can't tell you here, but Cracken will inform you once we get the team 
gathered."

"Cracken?"  Wes sighed.  "I'm not going back to Adumar, am I?"

"Nooo," Face stated, with a smirk.  "But you might wish you were."

Wes sighed.  "Nope, this day just keeps getting better and better."