Kendle Thrace

[KendleRJ]

Name: Kendle Thrace
Code name/Alias: Boomer
Allegiance: Highest bidder

Age: 26
Place of Birth: Alderaan

Physical:
Species: Human colouring: Olive
Gender: Female
Height: 5'4" Weight: 120 lbs
Eyes: Aquamarine
Distinguishing features: She wears gloves constantly
Manner of dress: Comfortable and professional. The female equivalent of a suit & tie.
Weapon of choice: Anything that explodes, preferably from a far enough distance

Current Occupation: Between gigs
Previous Occupations:
Demolitions & Structural Engineer - Construction Conglomerate - Cularin
Chauffeur for Hutt VIP on Coruscant

Psychological:
There is a fine line between genius and insanity and Kendle walks it with a certain flair and comfortable gait. She understands what's what, and who's who, and if the price is good enough, she might forget one or the other. If it's REALLY good, then she might even forget both. There's a certain steadiness and flippancy needed when dealing with high-end explosives, and even bold and calculating organisation. She understands bombs and any item that may ignite and then go boom, and although reluctant to disarm them, she has been known to be enticed to do that... again, for the right price.

Kendle is obsessive about keeping her tools of the trade free from contaminants, and wears gloves at all times, even when not handling her rather unique wares.

Personal History:
Oppression was something that was second nature to a kid from Alderaan, and as soon as she was able, Kendle high-tailed it off that rock, and tried to place as much space, literally, between her and the Empire. It took her to Cularin where she soon discovered the value and power of someone who knew their way around explosives. Working for the Construction Conglomerate, she managed to skim from their bountiful hoards in order to do some personal jobs on the side. She began with a tenuous hold on her personal integrity, but, when the money was too good, she took on an air of moral ambiguity and worked for the highest bidder.

When her inventory stores kept ending up short, the Conglomerate took steps to have her arrested for sedition, collusion, thievery, and a laundry list of murders and assassinations tied to a wide variety of explosions, some attributed to gas leaks or overcharged power couplers in various locations in and around the system. Despite the spectacle of a bomb, there were ways to disguise it. Subtle? Sometimes, but not often. Mostly, blowing shit up was fun.

But this forced her to run, and right into the teeth of the beast. Coruscant might be the core of the Empire, but it was so overpopulated, that she could all but disappear. Shifting gears on her career, Kendle became a chauffeur for the local Hutt family and their VIPs. With her former occupation, she soon managed to reconnect with her regular band of unsavoury characters, and had to give up such a lucrative job when her client had an attempt on his life. With a bomb. With a long line of possible enemies, her past affiliations and actual involvement in the plot encouraged her to seek new employment.

Perhaps with her past talents and shady past, there might be some group willing and/or able to meet her price tag and utilise her versatility.

[KendleRJ]

"Did I hear you say, 'Price is no object'?" Kendle's feet rested comfortably on a metal table in a non-descript bar with something green and bubbly on the table between them. Her eyes swept over the creature across from her, and kept going, watching for possible threats outside and around her. She noticed a few of the denizens take a particular interest in their table and her dead-eyed stare and her hand moving to her belt said more than enough in any language.

"Price is never an object," the Sullustan responded in stilted Basic, seemingly unconcerned with their surroundings, or the more than interested parties creeping closer as they spoke. "It is, in fact, a currency." He tipped his head sideways as though measuring her up. Despite her casual posture, she could move and draw her weapon as well as use the table beneath her feet as a makeshift shield. Planning ahead, and meticulous thought processes... far too simple to exploit. Shifting his weight as his tiny legs could not reach the ground, he leaned over to lift the substantial briefcase. It dwarfed his hands and he struggled as he placed it before him on the table.

"Soooo, that would be a 'no', then," she said sourly, sucking her teeth as though something had gotten stuck between them. "Always a pleasure when the potential client tries to out smart ass the smart ass." One eyebrow went up and she took her feet off the table, placing both of them flat on the floor beneath her. This little guy's movements were causing the locals to get more interested. Any interest was unwanted, but the type he was causing with talking currency and briefcases... well, that was just asking for trouble. She thought a moment. He was sitting across from a driver who had a tendency to play with explosives for a job that had yet to be defined. He was just asking for more trouble.

"Look," she said and he cut her off with a wave of his hand. Her face drained of emotion and she gave him a stare all of his own. Employers got to have some leaway, but no currency had changed hands yet. This little guy was looking for some danger of larger proportions. She imagined what he might look like with his little legs splayed in the air, concussive blast lifting him from his seat as the air heated up in the bar. She could see the metal table melt with the concoction she had, inert, in her boot, just for such occasions: if a job went south, or if she had a hankering to eliminate some smart ass. Both were equally viable reasons. And a few others she didn't even need an excuse for.

"You need to drive." The Sullustan handed her a data crystal and the box it came in. He knew better than to give her a closed box. He might end up as wall paper in this horrible place, and there were more urgent needs to be met elsewhere that required all of his internal organs remaining internal. "I give the place, you take the giggle. And money, even defined as currency, will no longer be a concern."

"The gig."

"I beg pardon?" The Sullustan tapped his translator and shook it. "Gig?"

"Yes, not 'giggle'," Kendle said and slotted the data crystal into her reader. Boy, this was going to be a load of giggles, wasn't it? It looked like a simple enough job, and that's what got her back up. Nothing was ever simple, and certainly not with a guy in a bar in some backwater low orbit shit for brains place who couldn't even invest enough extra credits to get the vernacular upgrade on his translation unit. It tasted wrong, like the air itself; a tang of deception with some unwanted felons in the mix. She stood and some of them slinked backwards, others crawling back into the holes they'd crawled out of. "Everybody got that?" she asked, voice raised. The musical underscore slid off its track and there was silence. She half expected to hear something rolling along the floor behind her. Which was lucky, because she was already on the move when it did.

Leaping over the table, rolling with the little guy, his case still in his hand, she put the substantial table between it and the unknown object which exploded with an understated thud, leaving a picturesque shard embossment in its surface. Where it had come from, she couldn't rightly tell, but it seemed that she had already made her choice in the matter. Saving the guy's life was instinct, and perhaps she should consider curbing that in future. But, he had been potentially about to give her a distinctly large amount of money, and that thought smoothed her ruffled morality. Pulling out her blaster, she peeked over the table and scanned the place. Apparently, that little incident had cleared the bar. "Fucking chickens," she muttered, and watched for movement before standing up, hauling the little guy to his feet. She didn't often tower over humans, but a majority of aliens, she had no problem with.

"Looks like you and me are working together," Kendle said, tugging at her gloves before smoothing her hands over her suit and adjusting her collar. "That I saved your life, you add that to the bottom line in the form of an extra zero." Her smile was beatific, but her eyes were a little askew. Even in the calmness between, there was no time to completely relax. Not in her line of business.

"Not me," said the Sullustan and turned on his heel, leaving the briefcase in the corner. "I am only a cog." He too straightened himself before striding purposefully for the door. "As are you, Kendle Thrace." He chuckled, his voice leaving a trail behind it like crumbs. "I'd get on that job sooner rather than later, my dear, since this place will soon be a crater in this tiny moon." Slapping the data crystal into its housing, she sighed audibly and easily caught up to him as he was exiting the bar. "There's more on that crystal than what you're required to do, of course," he said. "It documents certain... incidents in various systems that have a few common threads." Opening the door, he strode out onto the platform of the hovering bar. The sky was overcast, air thick with smog and black-streaked rain clouds, lines of grey making their way to the surfaces beneath. It smelled like oil and would mark her clothing like spray paint. He swirled a large cloak around him. "The price is commensurate with exactly how much truth is listed upon it."

"That's blackmail," she said, her voice holding a dark tone.

"Yes," he said with great humour and stepped off the edge of the platform. Leaning over, she noticed him lifting in the air on an air speeder as he continued to speak. "Be there, and certain details will not be released to the local authorities." A bomb. In a bar where she was seen recently, and probably holo recorded as well, knowing these paranoid types. Even assholes could find a way to sink to lower depths and wrap her inside of their shit. So,she was being set up to take the fall. Or take the job.

"Well, since you're being so magnanimous..." Let his translator chip chew on that word, the little sneaky fuck. But she knew, like he did with his self-satisfied shit eating grin, that she was over that proverbial barrel. "I'll see you there."

He flew off as the pelting began and her features were dotted with the black inky crap that passed for liquid. Hopping on her hover cycle, she took a closer look at the box and its contents, shielding it from the elements in a cocoon of her jacket and body. 'Was that a... well fuck me sideways,' she thought crudely. An insignia that, like Christian fish of old, had been scribbled on doorways and under bridges, and even marked the bodies of the people who had died for its cause. Because it was building momentum, much to the chagrin of the Empire, and that would have made her smile had she not just been tricked into working for them. For a shitload of cash. The Rebellion.

Whether Boomer liked it or not, with that little sneaky Sullustan, her talents had just become resources for the underground. Behind her as she drove to the spaceport below, the bar blossomed into a fiery plume, debris raining down amidst the dark rain. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment before making her final decision. 'Welcome to the spy game, you explosive, driver bitch.'