The Headhunter took a deep pull off of his deathstick before exhaling a cloud of poisoned smoke into the small, dimly lit room he occupied. His attention is focused upon his datapad, filled with the dossiers of potential recruits or targets for his boss’s crew. He swipes a few times, uninterested with his options until he comes along the following:
Name: Sheridan Dubhlocke
Age: Late 20s - Early 30s
Planet of Origin: Nar Shaddaa
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Blue
Skin Color: Pale
Force Sensitive: Yes
Allegiance: Unaffiliated (Previous freelance work for the Cartel)
Known Affiliates: Everanda “Evey” Scimindel
Notable Skills:
- Basic Force ability (self-taught/picked up from study)
- Accomplished boxer (Two-time Corellian Sector bareknuckle champion)
- Skilled engineer/slicer
- Fluent in Basic and Ryl, Semi-fluent in Mando’a and Shyriiwook
Attached to the dossier is a holovid. It’s a still photo of a scene where Sheridan sits at a table wearing plasteel shackles across from a republic agent who stands in an intimidating manner. Sheridan’s lip is bloodied, and his clothes are torn, but he wears a confident smirk as the agent reads from her Datapad.
Agent: Sheridan Dubhlocke. Orphaned at three, raised on the streets of the Corellian Sector by various well-wishers, ne’er-do-wells, and criminals alike. Picked up by authorities a few times as a juvenile for various small infractions. Shoplifting, non-lethal assault, disturbing the peace. Aren’t you just a treasure?
Sheridan: I have my moments.
Agent: Nothing too terrible that I can see. Not exactly a career criminal, but wouldn’t call you a standup model citizen either. You don’t remember your birth parents at all?
Sheridan: You remember a ton of details about your life at two and a half years old?
Agent: Cute.
Sheridan: Thanks, I work out and try to take care of myself. All about eating the right foods, you know?
Agent: I know you’ll get plenty of time to work out at Belsavis if you keep being a smart ass. Doubt the food is that good though.
Sheridan: Point taken. So what do you want to know?
Agent: How did you come to realize you could use the Force?
Sheridan: I don’t really /use/ the Force. I can feel it around you and I, and can do a few tricks here and there. Toss things at people, take things from people… knit small wounds together if I focus.
Agent: Seems pretty handy. You never thought to use those skills to help the Republic?
Sheridan: You see a ton of Jedi around here clambering to pull kids off the streets and into the temples? On Nar Shaddaa it’s not about the Republic or the Empire, it’s about staying alive and taking care of your people.
Agent: How noble of you.
Sheridan: Don’t need the sarcasm, it’s not about nobility, it’s about survival. Strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack. You have to have people you can rely on to watch your back, else you’re never going to get a decent night’s sleep.
Agent: Well, it says here you’ve done some work for the Hutts. They a part of your pack as well?
Sheridan: The Hutts don’t need me in their pack. I just pick up work where it’s available. Not too proud to scavenge, after all.
Agent: So, if we could guarantee the safety of you and your “pack” would you be willing to speak against the Hutt Cartel?
Sheridan: Hah! You’re insane. That’s a death sentence. They’d have me in the ground before I left the building.
Agent: I’m not hearing you say no. We could get you off the planet.
Sheridan: There’s no way I’d turncoat and roll over on the Hutts.
Agent: We’ll see about that.
The holovid cuts out, leaving only static.
