He hated his hunk of sh*t; That he called a ship. This was the worst. What's worse then giving Jabba the Hutt the finger? If he he even understood...Well, I'll tell you. You botch a very important job for the Empire. What do I mean by botch? Like...Proper F*cked. Proper F*cked is when--I'm getting off-track. Let me, Get back on task. My names Dasani. That's it no long triple syllable last name. Nothing signature about me. I'm as generic as it gets. Which is good. If your in my line of business. Which was being reliable. Atleast I used to be.
Moving on...My hunk of ship has no name. I don't recall it's model name. It's probably ancient. It's cranky, old. And probably that buzzing sound means its about to explode. Right now? I'm running from TIE fighters. Or interceptors. Or...something. I'm not in the mood right now to give half a sh*t. Y'know. I get nervous when I'm about to die. I also talk to myself when I get nervous; Or about to die. Now; Let's back-pedal to why my *** is in this dumbsh*t position to begin with. Let's see if I can recall the story right..
It all happened way back on Nar Shaddaa. Starting to make sense why they picked a Merc for the job--instead of using one of they're specialists,eh? Anyway.. They were "testing" a new assassin droid on this big cesspool of sh*t. I hated this place. It smelt bad. Looked bad. Even left a bad f*ckin' taste in my mouth. Everywhere someone was either trying to shyster you or kill you and leave you *** up in your shallow grave.They gave me no details. No information. Promised lotsa' creds' and No guarentee's. Due to, They didn't want--"Imperial Secrets" In the head of a Merc', Such As myself. Right about now, You must be thinking--Well, He's Proper F*cked. Well, Your right then...Let me go into better detail...
I went into the cantina where the Empire reported last seeing this, Assassin Droid. As the rickety doors slid up; I saw something that would leave me stunned. Even now as I am about to die.
Moving on...My hunk of ship has no name. I don't recall it's model name. It's probably ancient. It's cranky, old. And probably that buzzing sound means its about to explode. Right now? I'm running from TIE fighters. Or interceptors. Or...something. I'm not in the mood right now to give half a sh*t. Y'know. I get nervous when I'm about to die. I also talk to myself when I get nervous; Or about to die. Now; Let's back-pedal to why my *** is in this dumbsh*t position to begin with. Let's see if I can recall the story right..
It all happened way back on Nar Shaddaa. Starting to make sense why they picked a Merc for the job--instead of using one of they're specialists,eh? Anyway.. They were "testing" a new assassin droid on this big cesspool of sh*t. I hated this place. It smelt bad. Looked bad. Even left a bad f*ckin' taste in my mouth. Everywhere someone was either trying to shyster you or kill you and leave you *** up in your shallow grave.They gave me no details. No information. Promised lotsa' creds' and No guarentee's. Due to, They didn't want--"Imperial Secrets" In the head of a Merc', Such As myself. Right about now, You must be thinking--Well, He's Proper F*cked. Well, Your right then...Let me go into better detail...
I went into the cantina where the Empire reported last seeing this, Assassin Droid. As the rickety doors slid up; I saw something that would leave me stunned. Even now as I am about to die.