On a remote space station, in a dark and seedy bar, Jeff ‘Joker’ Moreau leans back in his chair, his left hand clasped around a tall glass cup of something bright pink. Tall, pale, with a close-trimmed beard, he wears a baseball cap, a black flight jacket with yellow and white piping from his shoulders running down his arms, a tight black shirt underneath, heavy black serge pants, and tall black boots laced up to the knee, his legs spread wide beneath the hexagonal table. He looks exactly like what he is: a hotshot pilot, one of the best pilots in the galaxy, though he’ll rarely admit to any other who can match him, and only with a grimace.
Beside him, Kaidan Alenko sits, dressed very similarly to his partner, in a blue flight jacket partly unzipped with blue piping, a blue shirt, heavy blue pants and black combat boots almost up to his knees, laced tightly. He takes a drink from his own glass, eyes scanning the room cautiously.
Joker hears a loud, arrogant voice, raised in a laugh from the far corner of the room, and his hand tightens around his glass in anger; he know that voice. The voice of the only pilot to ever beat him, humiliate him, on his first ever mission: Peter Quill.
Fresh out of the academy, the younger Joker was assigned the mission of interdicting a particular planet, but the showy smuggler slipped right by him, mocking him over comms the whole time.
When they met in person some time later, things did not improve; the smuggler taunted Joker, insulting his piloting skills and his career before escaping away right under Joker’s nose.
And so now, when Joker heard some intel on the rogue human, that he’s be here, out on the far edge of civilized space, working to set up a deal with a particular group of aliens, he leaped at the chance for both revenge and vindication, to capture the wanted outlaw and prove himself better. His partner, Kaidan, was all too happy to go along with it, so now they sit here in this seedy bar on the far edge of space, watching Peter Quill as he sits at a table with a group of aliens, laughing at his own jokes, acting just like the arrogant bore that he is.
A deal is struck, a bunch of currency changes hands, and then Peter Quill rises to his feet and walks across the bar, looking back, he raises his right hand in a wave, grinning his smug idiotic grin. Tall, with bright blonde hair and a collection of scraggly stubble, he wears a heavy brown flight jacket worn open, a dark heavy shirt beneath with a high collar. He wears a broad brown belt around her waist, clasped in the front with a wide buckle, a strange boxy piece of equipment handing from his belt. He wears thick spacer’s pants of a dark blue, alternating patches of material all in shades of blue being tucked into tall brown flexible boots, the heavy heels holding steady on the smooth floor.
Joker glances at Kaidan out of her corner of his eye, meeting the Biotic’s eyes with a meaningful glance. Kaidan nods his understanding, and Joker reachesinto his pockets, checking to make sure his ‘tools’ are ready: a roll of silvery tape, some rolled-up cloths - Kaidan looks down as he checks his own pockets to ensure the several sets of cuffs and shackles are ready.
Ready, the two of them watch as Peter Quill swaggers to the door, then out, and they jump to their feet, Kaidan dropping some bills and coins on the table, then they hurry out after their quarry.
Joker and Kaidan follow him through the station crowds, easily keeping track of the swaggering pilot for his getup and appearance as he walks into some of the lesser-traveled portions of the station. The two pursuers drop back further and further as the crowds thin out - with fewer people around, they don’t need to be so close to keep track, and also it is better to keep inconspicuous as there are thinner crowds to hide in.
Whatever it is Quill is after, he soon moves into even darker portions of the station, where the crowds vanish entirely, leaving the three men walking alone through the silent station corridors.
Joker glances sidelong at Kaidan, who looks back. “We good?” Joker asks softly.
Kaidan throws a quick glance over his shoulder, then forward at Quill, who still swaggers on, apparently blissfully ignorant that anyone could possibly have it in for him. Kaidan allows himself a grin. “Yeah,” he says. “We’re good.”
Joker grins back. “Alright,” he says, reaching into his pockets and pulling out his ‘tools.’ Kaidan reaches down to his hip with his right hand, drawing a short black dangerous looking pistol in his hand; his left hand reaches into a pocket of his flight jacket and comes out with a pair of shackles.
The two men lengthen their strides, drawing closer and closer to Quill, ready to take their quarry.
