Synaptic Snaps, Crackles & Pops

Bantha Milk, barkeep! [Journalistic Intentions Rd 9]

Bad-guy Bar  

Bantha Milk, barkeep!

This one seemed easy enough to figure out, since two examples came immediately to mind. First of all, any bar (or cantina) peopled by bounty hunters, guys with the death sentence on 12 systems, and scruffy-looking nerf herders just has to be a bad-guy bar, right? Various sentients sitting with their heads close together, conversing furtively and quietly, giving every newcomer the once-over: they may as well be wearing signs saying "Plotting misdeeds. Keep back!" The fact that it's located in a spaceport on one of the Outer Rim planets and is more or less ignored by the Empire doesn't hurt either.

Then, of course, there's that no-need-to-guess-what's-happening-in-here establishment the Governator enters and completely dominates. After surveying the occupants, he requests assistance in the form of clothing, footgear and transportation from a likely candidate. The gentleman demurs, signifying this by mistaking the T-800's chest for an ashtray. Things go south fairly quickly for him and a few of his friends, with our hero leaving with what he came for. Stereotypical biker bar full of guys prone to violence? Perhaps. Then again, I'm not the one who had him walk in there, rather than into a Christian Science Reading Room.