Omega73

Omega wakes. Reads the mission details (etc) and simply states. "Now the worlds have been graced by my presence" then once again falls back into the darkness of the unknown.

Over the unexplored planet was nothing but space and the Marie. In less than a blink of an eye, Crosa's A-Wing appeared to join the somewhat lonely crew. Every time he came out of Hyperspace, Crosa couldn't help but be amazed at the speed ships could come and go throughout the galaxy. If Crosa could feel pity, he would pity the civilizations of the past, who were without the miracle of hyperspace. It was almost funny to think that thousands of years ago, planets may have been naive enough to assume that just because their grip didn't reach beyond their own atmosphere, that there was simply nothing out there. Crosa wondered if there was a galaxy far far away that was still as naive. Crosa made a note to think about other galaxies later, when he didn't have a base to help build. This was going to be fun. Crosa Hoverich sent a message to his old comrade Delta. "All ready Delta. Where do we start?"

Crosa's A-Wing blasted through space at the speed of light, on his way to his first battle since... since far too long. As he waited to reach his destination, he prepped himself for the struggle ahead. Jedi were no easy bussiness, similar to Sith. However, the former had a sense of morals, which made them easier to deal with. As Crosa sorted out his plans in his head, he cleaned his prized MP5 slug-thrower. This was his weapon of choice, besides his bare hands. It had seen many battles, and had witnessed many deaths. Throughout his defeats, Crosa had still managed to keep track of his gun. He treasured it as a Jedi would treasure his weapon of choice: the Lightsaber. He often thought about awarding it a name for it's many noble deeds, but neglected the thought. To give it a title would create an emotional attachment to the item, and even though the said connection would be small, relationships was the last thing he needed at the moment. Crosa realized that it was hardly the weapon he was talking about anymore, but rather Delta's daughter Jate. Though she was smart, strong headed, and perfect for the bounty hunter position she persued, Crosa didn't have the will to help her along her path. He could help guide her along her journey to becoming a true warrior, but to do that would be to create a relationship: the relationship of a teacher and his student. Crosa had the time, he had the experience, but he couldn't bring himself to take such thoughts seriously. Erasing the thoughts from his head, Crosa continued clearning his MP5. He didn't need this sort of distraction, especially before such a battle. A battle which would not be easy, but hopefully succesful. Underneath his Neo-Crusader armor, Crosa hoped that his old connection at the Republic base was still reliable. Even after leaving Black Sun, or rather after it left him, Crosa mantianed his many contacts that he had made. While he never expected to get back into the bounty bussiness, he had hoped they would come in handy someday. Luckily, that day was now. This is where the fun begins..

Crosa took the Datapad that had been presented to him by Jate, and focused in the information that had been entered into it. As he looked through the somewhat short amount of information, he listened to what Jate needed and--more importantly--what she had to offer. “They promised me payment, and well, as you can see I don’t have much to my name at this moment. I need your help with the bounty, I am sure you would gain much profit from this adventure… I know you don’t owe me anything, but I need your help.” Crosa looked into the girl's eyes and studied her for a moment. He had to be sure that there was no sketchy stuff involved. Hunting Jedi was tricky business, and someone of her size and age, no matter whose daughter she was, would find decieving much easier than killing. After confirming that she was being honest, Crosa's mind started working on prices.. The Datapad had recorded quite a decent sum, more then enough to last him until another mission came up. But, then again, he already had enough funds from previous bounties to bribe off three Hutt crime Lords, which was quite a sum. Of course, he never planned on doing something so nieve (after all, give a Hutt a cookie...) but he thought it was nice to know that he could if he so desired. Crosa coughed. He was about to say something he had never said before. "I, Uh.. I won't be requiring funds for this mission. Consider it a donation to your father's memory. Now if you'd fill me in on a few more details regarding the mission, we can be on our way." Crosa then started discussing details with Jate, preparing himself mentally, physically, and most important when dealing with Jedi, emotionally. OOC: Just PM me some details, then you can post us both getting into ships and heading towards where ever.

Crosa's A-Wing came out of hyperspace outside of the planet of Altyrn just as Crosa finished his fine dinner of crackers and corellian ale. He saw the space craft that now belonged to Jate start to descend to the planet, and decided that he had a few moments to test out his ship before following suit. The more he made dives and roles in space, the more Crosa felt his grasp on the controls ease a little until they became an extension of his body. After two minutes of his tiny exercise, he started to descend into the atmosphere. It wasn't five seconds after Crosa's A-Wing touched the ground before he jumped out of the cockpit and removed his helmet gracefully, revealing his now cut short hair. Holding the helmet between his hand and waist, Crosa struted forward towards Delta's daughter. His insticts told him that this wasn't a trap, but just the same, he carried his MP5 strapped to his back, and his twin vibrobalds by his side. He gave a friendly smile (or at least what he thought was a friendly smile--he hadn't given one in years) and introduced himself in the proper Corellian fashion. "Hello. As you may know, my name is Crosa Hoverich. I served with your father in the times when crime was king, and money made the clock tick. Now what exactly is it that you need from me?" Crosa wasn't trying to be rude, but he had always found that beating around the bush was a fool's game, leaving it to the wise to get straight to the point. He awaited the girl's responce.

“Sir, before you dismiss me so, please let me at least try to impress you…any way maybe we should meet at another place where I could give you the things my father left to you. Please there is nowhere else for me to go…” At the sight of the desperate girl, who seemed to still have strong feelings about her father's demise, Crosa's resolve melted like butter. She was simply a girl, wanting to make her deceased father proud of both her and her accomplishments. Who was Crosa to deny that? In fact, it seemed even more logical to help someone with that sort of passion for the job.. Crosa gave a second sigh as he realized that he did not want the daughter of a warrior to go home for her safety, but for his own self-pity. His self-exile had tought him to think of what only benefited himself or his preferences. Crosa decided that it would perhaps be best to see if in fact this daughter of Delta's had any true mando blood in her. He leaned over to speak into his comm once again. "Okay kid, just send me over the coordinates and I'll hear what you've got to say. See you after the jump." With that said, Crosa started preparing his ship for the leap into hyperspace. As he did so, he remembered the many battles him and his now dead friend went through so few years ago.. In particularly the Kal-Korans, where Crosa and Delta fought off the most (shall I say resourcful) of people. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened to those two son of.. well, nevermind. Crosa prepared himself to recieve the coordinates..

Just as Crosa's mind started to wander once again, the sound of an ARC-170 coming out of hyperspace brought him back to reality. As he inspected the space craft from under his Neo-Crusader helmet, he couldn't help but notice that it looked exactly like Delta73's renowned ship. The more Crosa examined the ship, the more he was convinced that it was his old companions ARC. As he squinted his eyes, he could make out the old Mandolorian armor that Delta had so proudly sported during his reign as an agent of Black Sun. Crosa's mind went racing with questions.. Could Delta actually have returned? If so, why now? Why didn't he contact me before now? Is it really him, or an imposter? Can this even be possible? What about the rumor's of his death? As the silence reigned over all other noises, Crosa's hopes grew higher and higher. His head was swarmed with possibilities. But just as quickly as his hopes were raised, they were smashed down as if by some invisible hammer, as he heard not Delta's voice, but a female's. “Good day sir, I believe that you may have known my father, and though you probably did not know me or of me. I am Delta Seventy-Three’s daughter. My father served with you in Black Sun I believe, he told me that I could trust you with my life…before he died of cancer…I am sorry…” Crosa's heart exploded with feelings that words could not discribe. His old comrad, partner, and friend had just died. Never in his wildest dreams would he think that Delta would die of something so insignificant like cancer. He has always thought his old bud would have gone out in a blaze of glory, as so many of his brothers did in the clone wars. As the ship grew closer, so did the figure inside of it grow more clear. He could see her clearly now. She was rather young, probably mid-teens, with blazing red hair and hardly any resemblence to the warrior that Delta was. The only comparisions between the girl and Delta was her eyes. Those intense that belonged to many clones during the ancient clone wars, but were hardly ever revealed thanks to the secretive helmets of the Republic. While like her fathers, her eyes were still child-like. It was obvious that they hadn't truly seen the horror of war.. of sickness.. or of death. Crosa shed a tear under his protective mandolorian helmet, then sighed into the comm. "Go home kid. You have no bussiness in that armor. Let your father rest peacefully instead of disgracing his armor.." With that said, Crosa sat back, and waited for the kid's responce. OOC: Sorry for the long post, trying to get some character devolopment involved.

Crosa Hoverich, once a great agent for the renowned Black Sun, blasted into space. He checked his coordinates, making sure he was at the precise meeting location he had arranged. For the last two years, Crosa had been wandering the galaxy, without a purpose. For all he knew, his old friend and partner Delta73 had been killed, and along with him Crosa's ties to the galaxy. But now, a strange message had brought him back into the cold, harsh reality he once knew as home. Crosa sat back, remembering happier times. Back when he was a Vigo for the feared Black Sun, everything seemed to fit. It was then when Crosa believed that he knew it all, and that no force, whether spiritual or physical, could stand up to him. He was unstoppable--that is--until everything he knew was taken from him. Black Sun had been slowly torn apart from the inside, similar to how cancer takes the life of it's victim. Crosa, like many others, was foolish enough to think he could bring back the criminal empire to it's original power, but he was mistaken. His one friend, Delta73, had gone missing and was assumed dead by many. Life had taken an unexpected turn for Crosa, so he decided to abandon it. Until now.. Crosa snapped out of his wandering thoughts. He had to focus. A disciplined mind was just one of the many skills he would have to reteach himself if he were to become the single most unstoppable force in the galaxy. Once again, Crosa checked his coordinates and continued to wait.

Crosa had thought he was dead. In the world of black, it's all you can assume. He couldn't see anything, nor could he feel anything. He felt a chill run down his back, and suddenly Crosa felt something he hadn't felt for a long time. Fear. Fear that he would never wake up from this terrible pit of blackness, fear of everything he left behind unfinished, and most of all, fear that he died failing. Everything in Crosa pushed towards whatever life was left, if there was any. He kept telling himself that he refused to go down as a failure. Finaly, the darkness began to subside, as if a soft candle had been lit. As the darkness retreated, the light became brighter, eventually becoming a white. It stayed like this for over a minute, until a shape started to take form. Crosa blinked five times, trying to focus his eyes. His body was screaming with pain, and he tried to cry out, but nothing came out. But Crosa was alive, which was the important part. As his eyes took focus, he realized that it was a child standing in front of him. He was wide eyed, and had obviously seen what had gone on between Crosa and the Imperials. Crosa tried to sit up and look around, but the pain was too much. Crosa cleared his dry throat and tried again to speak. This time, a dry, raspy voice that Crosa barely recognized as his own came out. "Are they gone?" The boy nodded, his eyes quite wide. "How far gone are they?" The boy looked worried, but eventually responded that they had left only two minutes earlier, and both them and the boy assumed that Crosa was dead. Crosa spoke up again. "Do you think you could find them and follow them?" The boy nodded once again. "I'll give you a hundred credits to follow them, and another hundred if you aren't seen. Make sure they don't follow you back here. Can you do that?" The boy nodded a third time and rushed off towards where the imperials has left. Crosa was overloaded with joy and pain at the same time. He kept trying to sit up, but only succeeded his third try. He was lucky. Not only did the imperials fail to kill him, but they left him with his weapons. Crosa looked around and saw that he had killed two other troopers besides the one he had stabbed. Crosa took his small med pack he kept for emergencies and treated himself the best he could. He wasn't in any shape to fight, but that had never stopped him before. He stood up right as the boy returned, telling Crosa where the imperials went, and how to get there. He also stated that they had not seen him or followed him. Crosa studied the boy, making sure he was telling the truth. It wouldn't be unlike the imperials to pay the boy more than Crosa was paying him, but he could see that the boy was telling the truth. Crosa payed the boy and told him to go home. Crosa smiled as he started limping to his destination.

As soon as the blast went off, Crosa just realized what a stupid move he had just made. He had hoped at least Imperials didn't play dirty or were at least to stupid to do so, but once again, Crosa's trust was misplaced. He turned over so that he was lying down, somewhat facing the imperial. A squishy sensation was spread over Crosa's burnt back as his role came to a stop. Crap... Literally... ”œSee, wanted criminals don't go to some silly little youth ”˜ssociation. They get taken' in. Dat's the way it works. Thanks for the credits, though.”

Crosa took a glance at the imperial soldiers, then quickly looked back at Jareen. "Don't move a muscle." He looked back at the imperial scum who seemed either drunk or crazy. Crosa came to this conclusion because of the fact that they were both standing outside, and that there were absolutely no security camera's where the soldier was pointing. Also, he seemed to be leaning in thin air, as if he were resting against a table. The only reason Crosa took him partially serious was because of the white armored freaks standing around him. Crosa rolled his eyes. "No problem here, chief. Just trying to fly low and avoid the radar.." Crosa turned around and quickly shot Jareen on stun, immediately knocking him out cold. "You see, this is Jareen Novarris, a wanted criminal. He has committed countless crimes. I'm with the psychology for youth association, which helps criminals under the age of 25, and I was hoping to turn this boy into an honest, hard working man with morals. Unfortunately, he was against the idea, so I had to stun him. You see, we have a theory at the PYA... but I guess you really don't want to hear all of that. Here, you probably need this more than I do, go buy yourself a drink." Crosa handed the imperial enough to buy him quite a few drinks, and was considering taking some of it back, but refused the idea. If the soldier was more intelligent then he looked, he would move on and mind his own business. Crosa truly hoped so. "So, if you don't mind, I'll be making my way to my ship now.." Crosa smiled and started off, partly dragging partly carrying jareen with him.

Crosa saw how annoyed Jareen was, and reacted in the same manner, though tried not to show it. This kid needed to learn how the galaxy worked. People don't just give other people information unless they're really good friends, or they owe the other a favor. Crosa noted how Jareen was almost toying with his blaster. Bad news, for sure. Crosa raised his hands up as a sign submission. "Now don't get all up tight. I assure you my intentions are strictly honorable--" Crosa's hold out blaster popped into his hand before he could finish his sentence. Luckily he had caught Jareen off guard. It seemed that the kid had just played with the blaster for show, and had no intention of using the blaster, but Crosa stayed weary in case of any surprises. "Now listen up, you need to lay down all your weapons and your comlink and walk quietly to my ship with me. If you mess anything up on the way, I swear to God I'll shoot you down right then and there in front of everyone. I don't want anyone to get hurt, so I think it's in the best interest of yourself and everyone else within a hundred yards that you be nice and subtle like. Got it? Oh, and I prefer to take my tips from those such as Sith's, so I'm afraid your out of luck." Crosa waited for Jareen to start moving, being sure to keep a weary eye on the man. ((OOC: Nothing personal, just good business. You have two choices, you can go along with me or we can duel it out one on one. If you prefer the later, then consider this post number one.))

Crosa realized his mistake as he was finishing his drink he had ordered minutes before. He had read the coordinates wrong... Shaking his head, Crosa made his way outside of the Cantina, hoping Jareen would be there. Sure enough, there he was, standing there. He didn't look to happy. Crosa coughed in embarrassment as started to speak. "Just... getting a drink... Anyway, I would first like to quickly discuss my... compensation..." Crosa raised his eyebrows, forming a silent question of how much he was going to receive for the information.

Crosa entered the Glow Worm Cantina and sat down in a booth in the corner. This reminded him of a few years back when he was recruited into Black Sun. As he waited, he remembered his life before he knew how to fire a blaster... Which was sort of hard considering his father taught him how to fire blasters and slug shooters alike at the age of four. He continued waiting, wondering how long it took Jareen to get here.

Crosa came into space above Nar Shaddaa, and sent a COMM to the one known as Jareen Novarris. ------ Hello Jareen, my name is Crosa Hoverich. I have a bit of information you will be quite interested in. This is not a sales ad, nor am I offering any sort of costly services. I can relay the information that I know for only a little cash, but nothing that will break the bank, I assure you. If you are interested, please send me the coordinates to where you would like to meet. If you don't wish to recieve information that very well may save your life, please be honorable enough to tell me, so I won't be here all day. Have a nice day ------ Crosa sat back and waited for the response from his possible customer.