Solomon watched as the delicate pink digit traced around the rim of the Zeltronian's glass.  The chica was cool but sweet, just the way he liked his<em>spice</em>...and his women...Solomon struggled to keep his eyes from the swell of her perfect pink breasts.  A smile slowly crept onto his full, senouous lips as the music from the current band on stage faded...<em>show time Solomon</em>.<br/><br/>Solomon shifted his weight on his chair and once again drained the amber fluid from his glass as he nodded towards the rail preventing a fall into the seething mass of humanity below them on the warehouse floor.  "Your mark is down there...well she will be soon."  The words were barely out of his mouth when the club was plunged into darkness.  Seconds later several spotlights flashed to life, illuminating Sid Dochmur the<em>Underworld's</em>owner.  The smoke was so thick that the spotlight beams looked like solid pillars of light.<br/><br/>"Alright you brain-damaged, re-wired mutants!" Dochmur's amplified voice boomed across the venue, "here's why you've been sweating all over my nice clean floor all evening.  Ladies and gentlemen, if there are any out there, and all the other trash as well, here's Maria MERCUUURIAL!!"<br/><br/>The spotlights cut out, again plunging the club into utter darkness, the crowd's voice becomes primal, an<div class="floatright">(http://i1206.photobucket.com/albums/bb457/Parlyguy/Elliquiy%20-%20Star%20Wars/MariaMercurial.png)</div>atavisitc roar, the sound of a beast that is barely constrained.  The appaluse, whistling and cheering goes on and on, until a single note starts to rise through the pitch darkness, getting louder and louder until  almost at the threshold of pain.  A searing while klieg light stabs down onto the stage, and reflects nova-bright of the silver skinned limbs of Maria Mercurial.  She stands like a statue of molten white metal, as the rising note breaks suddenly into a driving, demanding rhythm, the intro to<em>Puta</em>, the title song on her new album.  Suddenly she is in motion, synthlinking to the sound, driving it with her muscles and nerves.  The club explodes into flashing lights, and the tri-vid wall behind the stage flashes with footage of the Coruscant Food Riots of 3,626 ATC.  The music grabs you by the throat and screams...<br/><br/><div align="center"><em>Yo soy tu madre, so don't fuck with me,<br/>I'll mess you up bad if you dare disagree.<br/>My time is credits, you know that, cabron.<br/>You got what you wanted, so why hang around,<br/>Yo soy tu madre.<br/><br/>Lovely Puta, that's what you say to me,<br/>Hola, puta, I'm what you want me to be,<br/>Till you get the thing you want,<br/>Nothing's too good for me.<br/>But when you're done<br/>And have your fun, then it's<br/>Puta, dirty puta, just get away from me...</em></div><br/>With a deft flick of his wrist, Solomon indicates to the barman and seconds later a sound dampening field crackles into existence.  The ear-bleeding music is instantly dulled to a hum.  Noticing the scowls from some of the VIP lounges other patrons, Solomon indicates that the music should be piped through the recessed speakers.  Leaning forward, he smiles at Vialiah, showing perfectly white capped teeth.  "So, the job is to protect the girl for a week or more as needed.  10k in credits in total payment upon completion, with 1k up front to cover expenses.  Her manager also has some jive on the side that he wants taken care of, price is negotiable...so you and your crew up for this chica?"