Log:Hard Target: Nardo Vig Pt. 1

Hard Target: Nardo Vig Pt. 1

OOC Date: January 12, 2024
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Ezlo Rafe, Amal Jha, Aejin Taerok, Valeska Kora

Profile: Nardo Vig

Species: Pau'an

Homeworld: Utapau

Height: 1.85 meters

Weight: 102 kg

Hair Color: Bald

Eye Color: Yellow

Distinguishing Features: Pronounced Limp

Last Known Location: Apartment Home of one of his Mistresses, Alara Smoot.

Education Level: Masters Degree in Currency Manipulation

Favorite Book: "How to Manipulate Currency Without Being Caught" by Zootius Mro-Kwal Missing Since: Telona, 1178

"Aww... man... you missed the turn. You were supposed to take Exit 3,849,930 Aurek..."

Sitting in the back seat of a hired speeder cab, one of the few Ardennians on the Smuggler's Moon is taking advantage of the top being down to puff on a lit shroob stick in as inconspicuous a fashion as possible. The open cab and the high speeds keep most of the purplish smoke streaking out the back, where it will soon become some other vehicle's problem, and interfere minimally with the occupants of this one.

"Don't think you're getting one over one us, running up the meter, man. I used to drive a cab myself, know alllllll the old tricks."

Up front the droid piloting the air taxi seems largely indifferent to Ezlo's back seat driving. He also seems largely indifferent to the fact that Ezlo has his bare feet propped up on the back of the droid's seat. Of course, his feet look practically identical to all four of his hands, so it's sometimes hard to tell at a glance which is which.

As the droid takes the correct exit, Ezlo doesn't bother to beg the droid's pardon. Instead, he just holds onto the side of the cab as it turns somewhat sharply, though well within the recommended safety parameters. After telling the droid to turn the music down a bit, he flicks his burned-out shroobstick out the back of the speeding cab, and checks in on his fellow passengers.

"Did you finish reading all that yet? 'Cause like... man... don't get me wrong, I read it and all, but shiz... it was all so long and I started getting a headache, man."

Those intimately familiar with Nar Shaddaa might recognize that they're heading into the Bad Part of the moon, the proverbial wrong side of the tracks. Past the many sketchy red light districts, past even the many sketchier green light districts. The grossest, filthiest sector, reserved for only the scummiest of all the Galaxy's scum and villainy...

The concentrated mass of Nar Shaddaa's wealth: New Vertica.

In the years since Amal Jha had made her way to Nar Shaddaa, she had seen nearly every indecency the moon had to offer. In the time since she had taken her long-standing contract with Borgol, she had seen, and done, even worse. But none of that showed on the Echani's face. As was her way, nothing showed on her face. She sat at one of the taxi's would be 'window seats' had the top been up, leaning forward so that her forearms rested on her knees, eyes focused in that odd middle distance which was where the information which had been passed onto the team was being relayed through the glasses she wore over her eyes. Even the sudden maneuvering of the cab did not interrupt their reading. "Enough to accomplish the mission." With luck, she would finish reading before they reached their destination.

There's a Mandalorian seated in the air taxi and he watches their surroundings as they zip by. One hand seems to perpetually rest atop the holster strapped to his right thigh and the cannon of a sidearm that resides there. Stowed between his legs is a longer rifle; bearing the characteristics of a bounty hunter's stun net launcher. The silence never truly has time to settle on account of one of their compatriot's speaking on the subject of his own past experiences. It isn't until the question of reading is spoken that the helmet of the Mandalorian, Aejin of Clan Taerok, turns to settle its distinctive visor upon Ezlo and Amal both that he speaks.

The click of his vocorder heralds his words, cold and neutral, perhaps even a touch on the side of ill tempered, "I've been given nothing to read. Point me at what needs brought down and it will be". The Mandalorian expresses himself in rather simple terms.

There is another in the speeder. A second Mandalorian painted predominantly in crimson with accents of orange and other colors not worth going into. She's just as expressionless as any other Mando. It's the helmet, you know? The best Sabacc face you'll ever see. Often the last thing many people see, those Mandos.

This one is a bit more jovial than average. She's leaned back with her foot up against the seat in front of her and playing with a cryoban that totally isn't armed. Right? "With any luck, his ability to slip the hunters up until now will make him cocky and complacent, yeah?" The accent is a thick one. Twangy and rounded vowels that are almost like a slur in her voice but she's sober as sober cna be.

It's Dantooine and it sounds like crawfish gumbo. "I tend not to read stuff given anyways. More of a visual tracker. Urban is a bit tricker, but it looks like you got plenty of skill spaced about here. What's the price on this rekker's head?"

"Oh man... that's rude of me. I shoulda known... uh... I mean... I figured that you COULD read, but it's like... shiz... where are my manners, man?"

Reaching into a jacket pocket with one of his multiple hands, Ezlo produces a piece of paper that's been folded up, and tries to unfold it without losing it to the winds of Nar Shaddaa. He successfully unfolds the paper, revealing a Wanted poster, printed in both Huttese and Basic. It reveals the Pertinent Facts about the man in question, and also includes an embedded video file showing a very thorough likeness of the supposed perpetrator.

Surprise surprise, the act he's most wanted for is Currency Manipulation against the Hutt Cartel, though there are also allegations of embezzlement, bribe evasion, and libel.

In fine print, there are lists of crimes that most non-Hutts would find even more heinous, but nobody is being paid to bring him in for those.

"I figured like... how come nobody ever found this dude when he's so tall, you know? It's gotta be a setup, man. I bet the wife and the mistress got together, chopped him up, man. I don't know, what do you guys think? Check out the wife first or the mistress?"

Prominently on the poster, is the Reward for the live capture of Nardo Vig, which is very similar to the reward for his capture in a less than living condition. The mouth-watering total of One Hundred and Fifty Thousand Wupiupi!

The fact that the wanted man was wanted for Currency Manipulation was more than enough of a reason for and something to explain why Amal Jha had been included in the retrieval party. Borgol's Voice did not take well to such abuses of the Cartel's finances. The readout on her glasses cleared as Amal sat back up in her seat, "Men who find themselves mistresses do not usually find reasons to spend their time at home. I can take the mistress." She made no comment on what the mandalorians would choose. They went their own way, more often than not.

Again the helmet's vocorder clicks to life and Aejin's voice issues forth, "The mistress. Home's too obvious. Mistress is more fun," the Mandalorian answers in his same detached, cool voice. By the time he's finished speaking Aejin's visor shifts back to watch the viewport. The structures passing by quickly are given only fleeting regard. The bounty hunter seems to be watching for anything of concern as the air taxi travels. He's said his part, he's stated his view of the next step. Now it's time to fall into silence and wait.

Valeska's helmet turns to regard the Pertient Information. Especially the numbers at the bottom followed by a currency she isn't able to convert into credits in her head. But that's a lot of zeros so screw it. She hsa mouths to feed, fuel to buy, and ammo to stock. Plus knocking an arrogant prick a few pegs down from his pedastle is a past time of hers. "Can't even make money the honest way by cheating at cards? I call it lazy, yeah? Yet bold enough to disappoint not one but two women. Greedy, is what I call that. And stupid."

As if playing around with Hutt money wasn't evidence enough of the stupidity, but Valeska isn't know for her strength in reasoning skills. Unless you call the various types of explosives she brings with her 'reason.' Just don't ask her to be reasonable.

An armored boot hits the back of the droid's driving seat with a grin can only be heard, not see. "You hear that, Rusty? We're going to go visit the side piece. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Please state a valid address..." The droid's a buzzkill.

It doesn't take the air taxi long to make it to the apartment building where Nardo Vig's Mistress lives. Surely every air taxi driver who works the New Vertica circuit wishes to grab fares too and from that building whenever possible. After all, it's one of the most prominent structures on all of Nar Shaddaa, and probably the single most concentrated mass of wealth anywhere within Hutt Space. Locals know it by a couple of names, like the Twisted Knife. But its official name is the Gilded Spire.

Well, the organic ones want to get fares from the Gilded Spire. The droid ones, like the one shuffling these would be bounty collectors around, probably don't care too much about such things. They live a peaceful, emotion-free existence. Which is its own sort of reward.

As they land on the Spire's landing pad, Ezlo hops out of the taxi, and even foots the bill for the ride like a total baller. It's actually kind of a steep bill, that droid definitely took some unnecessary turns to keep them in the air. But Ezlo doesn't seem too concerned by this, perhaps because he's been smoking shroob. Or perhaps because he's already counting that sweet, sweet, 150,000 Wupiupi bounty.

As the speeder takes off, Ezlo looks at the security in front of the door, and suddenly looks as if he has a few concerns. Clearly, there wasn't really any thought put into actually getting into the building, and... talking to the mistress.

"So uh... don't get me wrong, buds. Being a well-trained bounty hunter it's like... I mean... the most important thing about being a fearless leader is knowing that... like in this situation... just because I'm asking questions doesn't mean that 'I' don't know, you know?"

"But uh... how do you guys think we should uh... get inside there?"

Amal, stepping out of the taxi, simply offered a shrug. A single movement that settled her duster on her shoulders and allowed the length to fall to her knees. Artful, casual. As steady in its pristine appearance as the footsteps that carried her towards the guards. No weapon shown, no shift in posture to put on an intimidating appearance. Only words, spoken as neatly and calmly as ever came from the Echani's mouth. "I am Amal Jha of the Mazijik Kajidic. You know my name. You know in whose name I speak. We have business within." A single glance from guard to guard, as she waited for the sea, so to speak, to part.

The speeder comes to a halt and Aejin spryly extracts himself from it. While Valeska and Ezlo are left behind to discuss alternative means of entry, Aejin continues forward at an easy stride after Amal. He does not walk at her flank, but instead at her side. Upon their arrival before the guards, Aejin does show that he is armed. It's quite obvious, judging by the Mandalorian's considerable armament both attached to his frame as well as those fixed into positions upon his armor. The small yellow nubs that sprout from his knees; rockets themselves to the trained eye. The jetpack that he wears with the warhead sprouting from it. The sidearm holstered at his thigh. Knives, grenades, more than likely a roll of credit chits somewhere to pack his fist with if necessary. Then there's the net launcher rifle that's cradled within his arms and hands. Where Amal Jha may be unarmed or at the very least presenting as such, the Mandalorian that accompanies the Echani is anything but.

He does not speak, but instead allows for the intimidation factor of a silent Mandalorian to act as his key for entry. Or at least in support of Amal's own efforts to bypass the guardians at the door.

Gripping the edge of the speeder, Valeska lifts herself frees of the vehicle with a lurch of her body and swinging her legs over. Included is the prerequisite 'Hup!' to get with it. For flare. She knocks on the droid's head with a grin. "Thanks, Bucket. Bet you'll take the straight way back to the station, yeah?" Whoever programmed the droid'd route definitely knew what they were doing. Just one of the many, many reasons Valeska avoids New Vertica. And New Vertica is happy for it.

Now comes the next hurdle. The kind that makes shakedowns like this fun as all get out. Hands on her ample hips, Valeska looks up at the impressive building, giving her spine an noticable curve as he does so. "Eh. Not that high up." Seriously? Sixty floors? "Hey, Ez. How about you say we give her a good surprise. Knock her off of her guard? She--" Valeska points to Amal "--can go in through the front door with Aejin. You and I can... ya know."

She points up to one of the many, many balconies. Every single abode has one. And who would lock their balcony doors on the sixtieth floor? "You wanna fly? We can time it to pinch in with the others. That'll turn her hair white."

This was, alas, what happened when Amal wore her work heels. Alas. Thankfully, no comment was made to the disparaging of her height. Rather, she waited as though the deference paid her was to be expected of one of her rank and standing. The Mandalorian serving as her companion, well, he had a cult of personality all his own. So, Valeska and Ezlo were left to make their own entry, as the doors were opened before Amal and Aejin. "Thank you." That was all that needed to be said. Kill them with kindness, as Amal brushed past the guards, even the doors fully open making it difficult to step inside two abreast and all, clearly. Soon enough, it was towards the elevator, the doors opening easily enough. They always did. It was going where they intended that was the issue. Or so it seemed, until a badge appeared in Amal's hand (once the doors had closed again, of course), twisted to set it against the security reader. "I will not ask if you are ready." The correct floor was soon indentified, and the elevator was on its way, the music shifting to something which, in another galaxy might have been called 'dubstep.'

The doors are opened by the guards and instead of allowing the Hutt's right hand to enter first; it's Aejin that steps forward as though suddenly taking charge of the situation. The fact is that the Mandalorian is armored heavily and if an ambushed awaited across the threshold, the ideal situation is that he'd take the initial salvo and have a greater likelihood of survival. Even if still, to some degree, minimal.

Over the threshold and the coast is clear, Aejin slows so that Amal can take the lead once again. Upon their arrival and entry into the turbolift, Aejin turns to face the doors. The stun net launcher is slung around his body and positioned that if he must exit the turbolift quickly it doesn't anchor him by becoming stuck on the doorway.

The riot baton that rests against his thigh and in its stowed, collapsed state soon earns a gloved hand resting atop it. He does not pull it free yet, but seems prepared to snatch it from his thigh at a moment's notice should demand arise. The question of his readiness does not earn so much as a glance as the Mandalorian's helmet stares back at the wearer through the reflective interior door of the turbolift. Judging by the tension in his lean, wiry body he is ready to explode out of the turbolift the moment the doors open. At least he isn't complacent.

"Learned a long time ago that I ain't made to intimidate. Least not when I'm not bringing up a bowcaster," Valeska explains coolly to the younger man. She assumes he's a younger man. All of these hunters are gettnig younger by the day. Probably because most of the older ones die or live to retire early. That's neither here nor there. And neither is said bowcaster. That drek is heavy. "Some people got a way about them, yeah? The man I trained under? He could scare the piss out of you with just a look. Gave good hugs, though. Ah, those were the days."

As she's talking, Valeska is securing her main gun to her hip and tightening the belt about her waist. Gloved fingers press a series of buttons on her vambrace with a satisfying beep beep boop which brings to light the whizzing sound of the apperatus on her back. The air pressure around her starts to shift already as turbines spin and fuel starts to burn.

Amal and Aejin are already inside and making their way up when Valeska extends a hand out to him. She appears to be in no real rush. After all, they are going to express route. "No time like the present, yeah? Hop on and I'll show ya a speeder ain't go nothing on this. Oh, and hang on tight. My husband isn't the jealous type."

And the second Ezlo attaches himself, the jetpack roars to life and the two are lifted straight up. And fast.

The elevator is very speedy, using inertial dampening fields to protect the very squishy passengers from getting injured from the rapid acceleration. More importantly though, it helps greatly with any undesirable queasiness. Generally, most queasiness is undesirable, but here on The Smuggler's Moon there's definitely a market for it, and most of the people who are into that sort of thing live here in The Gilded Spire.

Though the would be bounty-cashers have no way of knowing that at this exact moment, one of the people most into that sort of thing has visited the very apartment to which they are now rapidly speeding upward!

The 68th Floor is not quite the top of the massive condominium complex, but it's pretty close. Each 'apartment' takes up an entire floor of the skyscraper, with the elevator opening up directly into the apartment itself. Suffice it to say, without a hastily-swiped guard badge, it'd be very difficult to bypass the security required to open up the door on a floor other than the tenant's own. But as Amal Jha and Aerjin Taerok have already taken care of that, they have little difficulty on their two hundred meter elevator ride, during which peaceful, lilting rich people music is replaced with brutal electronic beats. Amal's influence, no doubt.

The gilded doors slide gently open almost before the occupants would be able to detect that it had even stopped. Those are some pretty good inertial dampening fields. As they slide open, a view of an opulent, expansive apartment can be seen. It's larger than some warehouses, with massive open spaces and transparisteel panels that take up entire sections of wall. Jeweled chandeliers (or excellent knockoffs) hang from cielings, and there's even a fountain because of course there is. Whoever lives here has been kept in style merely by being allowed to inhabit such a space, but there are also works of art that seem pretty pricey, and the furniture is of obvious quality. So who could have entranced Nardo Vig to such an extent that she should be given such a gift? Let's find out after we check back in on the Ground Team...

Back down on the ground...

Wishing mightily that he had smoked significantly more shroob before agreeing to such a cockamamie plan, Ezlo still gulps only twice before he steps forward like a brave little toaster. Attempting to play it cool, he still feels a bit awkward just sort of... clambering onto an actual person. But then again, it's not really 'grabbing onto a thigh' when that thigh is covered in metal, and he climbs up as respectfully as he can manage. Sure, he's all hands, but that's not really his fault. By the time he's pulled himself up to her height, and wrapped all six of his limbs around as tightly as he can without getting anything near the jetpack vents, he looks a bit like a papoose. Albeit a creepy blue spider monkey-ish one.

Back up top...

With access to the floor granted, the Elevator Party has the ability to quickly tell that there are no actual people within quick visual range. But there are signs that SOMEONE is here. A purse laid haphazardly on a couch. A glass of champagne left next to the holovid display, which is currently showing some sort of drama about a Rodian woman whose best friend has said something behind her back.

But where is the mistress of the place?

Amal was no Mandalorian, but she had been a bounty hunter (satellite of course), to know some of the signed lingo inherent with that occupation. She indicated, then, that she was making her way towards the bathroom, which, by the sound, was occupied at least by the presence of one person. The badge she tossed over towards Aejin. With his added mobility, he was more likely to be able to reach the elevator, if needed, before anyone attempting to make their escape. No glance towards the window. It would be filled with visitors soon enough. Best to corner the potential prey first and ask questions second.

The tossed badge is snatched in the midst of its flight and carefully tucked into the utility belt wreathing Aejin's waist. Where one hand rests upon the riot baton collapsed at his left side; the other gloved hand rests atop the holster of the heavy cannon worn there. The holster's snap is carefully and quietly released, granting access to the weapon within it. The grip of the Enforcer is taken, held passively by a glove-and-armored fist while Aejin's helmet continues to shift and turn. Scanning the interior of the decadent place in silence.

A few steps moves the Mandalorian and the Rattataki within that armor shifts to place his back to a wall near the entrance; both to limit angles of approach, but also to permit him the ability to survey a broader expanse of the ritzy apartment. He does not speak for the moment, but simply does what he needs to do to aid in both the success of the objective, but also to ensure the back of his teammates are covered.

Up, up, and up some more. The Gilded Spire is a vertical blur of decadence and excess. Every tenth floor there is a full garden dedicated to the residents with fountains, paths, and actual greenery. Greenery on Nar Shaddaa! That is the true show of wealth. It's enough to make Valeska sick. Not the trip, though. She's used to screaming through the air. Having a multi-armed monkey man clinging to her is a new one, though. But any wayward hands are kept from being inappropriate by a thick kama around the waist and a beskar chestplate.

Just as soon as they left terra firma, the are landing just as easily. Boots to the balcony, the jetpack powers down and Valeska gives the guy a chance to clamor back down. Once he has his land legs again, that is. The door though... "Locked? Who the rekk locks a door seventy stories up?"

People who know what jetpacks and speederbikes are. Duh.

Val rolls her eyes, going to painfully simple lock and jolting it with a quick over ride that gives them access to the interior. "Welp. Let's see if the missus is home, yeah? After you." Politely, she holds the door open for Ezlo and goes quiet, aware Aejin and Amal are already on a trail

Sure, the lady with the jetpack is used to screaming through the air, but she's probably not used to someone screaming quite so loud, at such a high pitch, while basically wrapped around her midsection. There are such confessions that would make for excellent blackmail material, if Ezlo actually had any money to attempt to extort. But when they land, he quickly hops off, dabs the corner of one of his eyes, and wipes his nose on the back of one of his many hands.

Then he straightens his sweater, and tries to regain any dignity he had before he did his best impersonation of a baby suddenly dropped off a cliff.

"Tight. That was... uh.. real tight."

Ezlo takes a place near the door, which is basically just a giant section of transparisteel with an access panel next to it. Looks like they're really big on the sliding doors at this place. But it doesn't matter what's it locked with anymore, as his armor-clad compatriot makes short work of the panel, without even having to steal from one of the smitten guards!

"Wait... Your husband? Man... I didn't know that dump trucks believed in marriage..."

The bathroom door opens, and out steps...

A large Aqualish woman wearing some very fetching lingerie with curlers in her beard. She's also carrying a glass of champagne, completely full. Or at least it looks clear and fizzy, but given the income bracket these people are it's probably those horrifying Chandrilan Squigs.

Surprise can be seen in her eyes, which turns to shock, which turns to the dropping of a perfectly good glass of what may or may not be some sort of champagne or champagne equivalent!

And then, shrieking so loud that her Neck Sacks inflate, she flails her arms, and tries to run...

Back into the bathroom!

Which definitely smells like it's been recently used.

It was likely for the good that Amal had not been hired as an impromptu judge of fashion because...the sight...was a sight. "Alara Smoot." Not a question, as Amal stepped forward, moving with that fluid grace for which her kind were so well revered. As her hand tightened, energy hummed along her knuckles as she grabbed the attempting to escape Aqualish, twisting and rolling to toss the woman out of the bathroom and onto the floor. Quite likely the drink went flying. Also quite likely, the liquid likely ended up on Amal's suit or jacket. Well, that was why one retained the services if the Moon's preeminent dry cleaner.

Struggling, the Aqualish woman who we all know is Alara Smoot, but who hasn't confirmed it yet, is unable to escape the iron Echani grip! And we all thought Ezlo was the spider monkey in this party...

She stops shrieking, but is only able to put up token struggling now that she's been snatched up. So she's left with nothing but complaints and protestations of innocence!

"I already told alla youse... I ain't seen that scumbag Nardo in over a YEAR! He ain't been here, I don't care what you heard!"

The hustle and bustle of the bedroom is soon presented in the main room of the apartment as the Aqualish woman is thrown from the bedroom. Aejin's helmet shifts abruptly to track the moment, identify it, and a moment of consideration likely spent determining whether the Aqualish presents an immediate threat, is taken. He watches the one Amal identifies as Alara Smoot and after a moment his attention turns away. It isn't the interrogation that he interests him or otherwise earns his attention. Instead it is the rest of the apartment and the sliding door to the outdoor balcony that earns the attention of the Mandalorian's helmet.

The other Mandalorian, Valeska, receives a slight nod from the helmed Aejin. A simple greeting from one to the other.

As the cavalry arrives from the balcony, Aejin's helmet twists about to consider both Amal and Alara, "No one mentioned Nardo". The statement comes after the click of Aejin's vocorder activates and broadcasts his voice. He takes a few purposeful steps toward a small table and upon collecting a second glass, lifts it up while his dark tinted visor shifts from the glass, then toward Alara Smoot, "Where is he? Save yourself the toss from the balcony". The statement is spoken with the certainty of conviction, yet with none of the heat or passion. As though discussing something as common as the weather.

It's a shame Ezlo can't see the devilish smirk on Valeska's face, but that grin does make its way into every fiber of her, loud enough that even the beskar can't muffle it. "Wait till you hear how the dump trucks breed." Such a promise is left nothing more than just a playful joke as Val follows in after their fearless leader. Fearless. Ignore the still-echoing shriek of his first jetpack flight. The undercity below will soon swallow it up.

They enter in time to see the Aqualish exits, turn heel, and get snagged. Perfect timing, that. Valeska says nothing, keen to allow it to look like her tactics were impeccable when in fact they were merely fortuitous. It's been a while since she's worked in a large group that wasn't just shredding through an enemy army in a desert.

Whatever skills the Mandalorian may have up her armored sleeves are not on display today. No, the situation is already well-handled by Amal and Aejin. Can't have too many cooks in the kitchen, afterall. It confuses the main course.

Delicous, delicious seafood.

Valeska reaches for something behind her and when she bring sit around, a snap of her wrist wakes the formidable weapon up. -She- may not be built for intimidation, but a Mandalorian wielding a stun baton cracking with electricity may do the trick. "If she's no use to us," she offers in a less jovial tone now, "then she can at least be a good show. For a few seconds."

"Ooh... squigs!"

While the rest of the party handle the pampered emotional support Aqualish in the lingerie, the group's token Ardennian handles the tough work. Investigating the most damning clue that SOMEONE has been here, he hangs back, picks up the glass, and gives it a sip. He makes a face, and tries to wipe it off of his tongue without anyone seeing him. Apparently he's not really one for 'culture', or the various beverages consumed by the cultured. More of a Zoochberry Soda kind of guy...

Alara Smoot isn't having a great time, getting tossed around and grappled, she's clearly not as threatening as the average Aqualish. But make no mistake, she's ALL Aqualish, as the revealing lingerie certainly proves. Which means she's large, strong, and hairy, and also has big Neck Sacks. Add it all together, and she could probably rip the arm off of someone who wasn't prepared. That is, if she wasn't in the process of being reduced to tears.

Big, blubbery, bosom-heaving tears. Those Neck Sacks are practically vibrating with emotion when she speaks, in a deep bass voice.

"Fine... I'll tell youse... but not 'cause you're being so mean! Because that dirty reekcat ain't been keeping up the rent on this place! SO YEAH! He was here, see? But he didn't give me no Truguts... just a couple measly Wupiupi... and after I gave him a glass full of Aqualish Special!"

It's at that moment that Ezlo turns the corner and sees what's going on. And he asks the question on everyone's mind.

Not, 'Where is Nardo Vig?' She'll tell them that in good time.

No, the question he asks, in frantic tones, having already sipped from the glass is this...

"WHAT'S THE AQUALISH SPECIAL!?"