Public A Day At The Wheel

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

The Wheel is a glittering ring of opportunity spinning lazily in the black of the Besh Gorgon system. And right now, it's under my watch. Name's Henriwatta, Guildmaster of the Armourer's Guild and Lady of the Ferra Sector.

Yeah, that's right the one who keeps half the galaxy's mercenaries, warlords, and two-bit smugglers in business. If it shoots, slices, or stops a lightsaber, my people make it, modify it, and move it. And we do it better than anyone else.

So listen up, darlings. I'm sending this little invitation across the galactic comms to anyone with ambition and, more importantly, credits.

Whether you're a bounty hunter looking for top-shelf gear, a syndicate boss needing reliable suppliers, a lone operative in need of quality protection, or just a smart entrepreneur who knows a good deal when they see one.

the Wheel is your destination.

 

[Koda Fett]

See what the ol' girl had in store for him, in more than one manner.

Striding in with all his graceless grace, Fett saddled up with the stink of death clinging to him like a rot. Maybe it was, but who's was harder to say. Especially around these parts, where everyone seemed to carry someone's. He could recognise some faces, their scars and snarls - the latter of which a consequence of his creation of the former. So be it, that was the business.

And so was this.

"I'm here for Henriwatta," he said to the brass Houk, with a flash of the invitation.

Henriwatta Wabbo

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

The heavy blast doors of the storehouse slid open with a metallic hiss, parting a thick, fragrant curtain of imported death stick smoke. Henriwatta floated out of the backroom, her wings beating a rapid, agitated rhythm that perfectly matched her mood. She took a long drag from her gold-banded smoke, her sharp eyes scanning the dim warehouse floor.

A few minutes ago, one of her jittery Aqualish guards had sprinted into her private office, sweating through his leather vest, stammering about a dangerous, heavily armed man with an invitation she had signed. Henriwatta had been expecting a contact from the Zeltron smuggling rings, specifically, a certain magenta-skinned, smooth-talking associate she'd been looking forward to dealing with all rotation.

Instead her eyes fell upon the outline of Mandalorian Armor, and not just any Mandalorian. Koda Fett was a lowlife, but he was her kind of lowlife, given that he was regarded as the finest bounty hunter in the galaxy. Still, that didn't alter her sense of disappointment.

Henriwatta let out a deep sigh, sending a plume of grey smoke swirling toward the ceiling. She rolled her eyes, the heavy gold rings adorning her webbed fingers glinting under the harsh overhead utility lights as she waved her hand dismissively.

"Ugh. Look at you," She rasped, her voice thick as a giant cloud of smoke puffed out of her mouth. She hovered forward, descending just enough to bring herself eye-to-eye with the T-visored helmet of Koda Fett. "You're not pink, you're not pretty, and you definitely don't look like you know how to sweet-talk a lady out of her profit margins. What a disappointment. I was expecting a very different kind of dangerous tonight, sweetheart."

She took a moment to examine the scuffs on his armor, carefully assessing the weapons they had equipped in order to determine what her prospective customer might desire from her inventory. It was essential to categorize clients effectively; there was no point in offering disruptors to an Ewok who wouldn't have a clue on how to operate one.

"But I suppose you'll have to do," she muttered, a sharp, cynical grin tugging at her snout.

"At least Mandalorians actually carry real credits. The Zeltrons are good for the eyes, but they always try to pay me in promises and cheap spice. You, on the other hand..." She brushed a stray speck of ash from her thumb, her demeanor transforming immediately from an annoyed matron to a shrewd arms dealer. The finest in the industry, if she were to boast, as she glided toward the secured inner vault of the warehouse and motioned for him to follow with her cigarette holder.

 

[Makar Clyne]

Whenever Tethys, Makar's flagship cruiser, docked at a station, there was always a small uproar. Space pirates were rowdy folk, too long in the cramped corridors of a spacefaring vessel would do that. Once they were off the ship though, all bets were off! Makar wouldn't be indulging with them tonight. His thoughts were on the oversights of being a captain, much to his disappointment.

Heavy footsteps filled the wheel's maintenance areas as Makar made his way towards Henriwatta's storehouse. The Wheel was a glorified gambling den and resort, but criminal enterprises had ways of worming their ways deep into places they shouldn't be. Places that were supposed to be safe...

The storehouse was hidden behind many meters of crisscrossing maintenance shafts and steam-filled chambers. No one was going to stumble upon this place by accident, he was struggling to do so on purpose! Were it not for a small schematic of the station he had, he'd never have found it. The schematic itself was part of a message given to a merchant who Makar had come across. One who was no longer among the living.

Enclosed within the message was also details on what he had found. He had been in correspondence with Henriwatta, planned out a deal moving illicit blaster parts onto a planet in the core. It was a risky job, but the idea had merit.

Finally, after far too many twists and turns, Makar saw the light a massive blast door standing wide open. He must not have been the first man here. Inside of the storehouse was a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter of great repute at that. Koda stood there wholly unimpressed by everything around him, bored even.

"Seems I am not as punctual as I'd normally like," Makar said with his normal grandiose flair. "Regardless, I do enjoy a good soirée. What I am most intrigued by is what brings an esteemed hunter to this place?"​

Tags: Koda Fett , Henriwatta Wabbo

 

[Koda Fett]

"I'm no Mauve," he rasped, a soft tilt to his helmet. "But all the same, I have the credits."

Being the greatest came with its share of rewards - some called it to be infamous, but that was still fame of another coat and fame brought it all. Chief among them, the credits. In this business, you needed them. Those that profited most, it seemed, were the arms dealers. Henriwatta, no doubt, knew this best.

He followed after the Toydarian, the soft clink of his spurs sounding off with each step. His gaze narrowed, or it seemed to with the subtle movement of his T-visored eyes, onto the vault ahead. Something special in there.

Fett gave a cursory glance to the pirate joining them, saying indifferently, "Takes scant wisdom to know why I might visit an arms dealer."

Henriwatta Wabbo Makar Clyne

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

Henriwatta stopped dead in the air, her wings buzzing with a irritated hum as Makar's voice echoed through the vaulted storehouse. She slowly pivoted around, taking a slow, long drag of her cigarra before exhaling a thick, suffocating cloud of grey smoke. Her eyes narrowed into cold, unimpressed slits as they landed on the pirate captain.

"Makar Clyne," she rasped, her voice dripping with world-weary disdain. "The lowest of the low. I should have known that scent of cheap grog and desperation drifting down the maintenance shaft belonged to you. And what happened to the merchant I was actually corresponding with? Let me guess, a tragic accident involving an airlock and your total lack of ethics?"

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't call her guards to throw him out. Makar Clyne was a vulture, a bottom-feeding pirate who brought entirely too much heat wherever he sailed his flagship, but as the Toydarian's eyes darted to the heavy pouch at his hip, her tone softened. He had credits and in her business a pirate's money spent just as well as a prince's.

"You're lucky you brought your wallet, Clyne, because your charm certainly wouldn't have kept you in this room," she said with a smokers laugh, turning her attention back to Koda Fett as the Mandalorian offered his indifferent remark. At the mention of the name Mauve, Henriwatta's snout twitched with genuine disgust.

"Don't even utter that name in here, Fett," Henriwatta exclaimed, a plume of smoke escaping her nostrils. "Mauve is a menace. A dangerous, flashy Zeltron narcissist who thinks the galaxy is her personal runway. All that high-profile, theatrical nonsense she pulls does nothing but bring the Republic and the authorities sniffing around our trade routes."

With a flick of her webbed wrist, Henriwatta zipped upward into the shadows of the warehouse ceiling, hovering near the very top shelves where the truly restricted inventory was kept. She grabbed a heavy, oxidized iron lever jutting from the bulkhead and threw her weight against it.

The massive, reinforced warehouse wall groaned as hydraulic pistons engaged. In a smooth, terrifying display of hidden engineering, the entire structural wall flipped inward, transforming the space into a massive, multi-tiered weapons rack that stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling. Thousands of black-market blasters, heavy repeaters, and sleek imperial-grade sniper rifles gleamed under the newly activated red security lights.

Her hands grabbed a few examples on a tray, hovering back down to the floor. She unceremoniously dropped them on a nearby examination table and struggled to pull up a black case from the floor but managed. She rested a gold-ringed hand on top of the case, leaning forward in the air as she looked between the legendary bounty hunter and the pirate captain.

"To my right you will find an infamous example of rumored pre-gulag technology in the form of a Service Special, a compact weapon only half the size of most blasters but possessed six times the power comparable to a quad cannon." She made a grand gesture as a way to showcase its power.

"Next to it is something for our lovely friend here, Mr. Fett in the form of a Needler, small pistol designed to penetrate personal energy shields by firing a sharp, tiny dart. The dart can be filled with poison or modified to be explosive." the Toydarian purred, her money-loving grin returning to her face.

 

[Koda Fett]

Grudges came and went, often based on need regardless of their origin. Most, one knew where it stemmed from at a glance. With Mauve, it could always be either professional or personal. Fett chose to remain out of that business, for it never concerned him much, despite the slight tinge of amusement. Though, something in him stirred doubt that Henriwatta was of the spurned lover variety, all on account of... well.

"I understand," said with a solemn nod.

He continued further into the vast warehouse, seeing what the Toydarian would keep on open display. Quite the collection. It would serve most, from the spacers in need of a quick hold-out blaster or the mercenaries on the hunt that would pack that extra bit of firepower. Confidently, Fett could say most stock was unimpressive. Taking on Jedi and Sith alike required more than most could ever hope to offer, and the ever-changing world of a bounty hunter required its share of dirty tricks.

"You got a range, right?" His gaze lingered on the Service Special longer than the Needler, if only out of curiosity. "I don't buy before I try."

Henriwatta Wabbo Makar Clyne

 

[Makar Clyne]

Makar was intrigued by the weapons on offer from Henriwatta's people. Pre-gulag tech was always in short supply, and very deadly. He walked over to the racks ahead of him, inspecting the merchandise of the Toydarian. It was already giving him ideas as to how best to use them...

"The merchant was of no use to me, that should be enough to tell you of his fate," Makar said as he lifted a blaster from the rack. He was impressed by the sleek design and obviously custom made attachments. "The reason I'm here though is because I have an idea. One which could make you many credits, should you indulge."

It probably didn't surprise Henriwatta that Makar was once again speaking of grand ambitious visions. He was a schemer, someone who always spoke of grandiose visions of the galaxy on fire. It wasn't new, people like him always existed. What was unique was the idea's sheer audacity. He had plans to start trouble deep in Republic space. A place many criminals considered far out of reach.

"I have been building contacts in the Mara Corridor, trying to find those who might be willing to turn one of those planets into a new haven for crime within Republic space. Sufficed to say, we're going to need guns..."

Makar strutted around like a peacock, twirling the blaster he held like a toy. It was all part of his unique brand of showmanship. He knew it wouldn't be enough to impress Henriwatta, but it was hard to stop himself at times. Too distracted was he by his own delusions of grandeur.

"I have my sights set on Algara II, it's people crave a change in their leadership. I think it could be a perfect place to start a network of corruption within the borders of The High Republic."

Tags: Henriwatta Wabbo , Koda Fett ​

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

Henriwatta's wings flared with an angry buzz, and she dropped a few inches in the air, glaring at the Mandalorian through a thick veil of freshly exhaled smoke. "A range? You want a range right now?" she snapped at Fett, her gravelly voice dripping with sarcasm. She waved a gold-ringed hand wildly in the air, nearly dropping her cigarette holder.

"Ugh, look at you, totally ruining my mojo! I was right in the middle of my pitch, sweetheart. You've got zero appreciation for how I do things." Still, she let out a heavy, world-weary sigh and rolled her eyes. Business was business, and a Mandalorian who wanted to test the hardware was a Mandalorian who was actually planning to spend credits.

Hovering down to ground level, she drifted over to the western wall of the storehouse and kicked a rusty, low-mounted hydraulic lever with her webbed foot. With a deafening mechanical screech, a massive segment of the reinforced wall slid aside, revealing a long, dimly lit corridor that stretched deep into the station's underbelly.

Lining the sides of the tunnel were dozens of stationary, heavily armored target droids, their chassis scarred from centuries of high-grade munitions testing. "There's your range, Fett," Henriwatta rasped, gesturing toward the tunnel with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"Go on. Shoot to your heart's content. If you break 'em, you buy 'em. And if you blind yourself with the Service Special, don't come crying to me." As Fett moved toward the corridor, Makar Clyne voice filled the room again to spin a tale of a great crime network and a haven for criminals within the Republic's borders. Her eyes rolled so far back into her head it almost looked painful.

"Another one of your ambitious visions, Clyne." she scoffed, pivoting her floating body to face the pirate captain. Instantly, her thoughts returned to their previous encounter, during which she was delivering a shipment of Rathars. Her transport had been intercepted, and the cargo was removed from her hold while the charming Captain was engaging her in conversation.

She was fully prepared to laugh him right out of her warehouse, but as Makar continued to pace like a peacock, the words Mara Corridor and Algara II caught in her throat. She went dead silent, the rapid hum of her wings dropping. She racked her brain, her information-broker instincts sifting through decades of galactic trade manifests, smuggling routes, and sector profiles.

"Algara II," she murmured, taking a slow, deeply satisfied drag of her cigarra. "The High Republic thinks it's just a sleepy little agricultural world. But I know what grows in those damp northern valleys. Algarine torve weed." She floated a few inches closer to Makar, her demeanor becoming more friendly at the prospect of profit.

"A powerful mood enhancer. Refine it just a little bit, and you've got a narcotic that the high-society elites in the Core will pay a king's ransom for," she purred, her voice thick with newfound interest. She tapped a gold ring against her chin.

"You're an idiot, but I'd be willing to back this venture for double my usual rate and twenty-percent cut of the torve weed distribution once you get it off the ground." The Toydarian was always willing to diversify her investment and what better than a product that anyone can use in a stressful situation.

 

[Keys]

Being led in by an underpaid Aqualish guard, the criminal locked his eyes onto the Toydarian.

Henriwatta had been expecting a contact from the Zeltron smuggling rings, specifically, a certain magenta-skinned, smooth-talking associate she'd been looking forward to dealing with all rotation.

Raising up his left hand, Keys waved around the signed invitation that had been received a little over a week ago. It had taken some time to process through the underworld and make it into his pocket. The Zeltron was a busy man, especially with his new elevated position within The Exchange.

"Heard you've been looking for me."

Keys made his way on over to Henriwatta Wabbo , paying little attention to the man ( Makar Clyne ) who stood nearby. In the background, he saw the infamous set of green armor taking aim at a variety of droid targets. Koda Fett was an all too familiar face. Many moons ago, the bounty hunter had tracked down Keys to a bar on Port Yaga. Tavlar's...that was the name. Regardless, the Mandalorian let him go, clearly thinking the Zeltron was not worth his time.

Come to think of it, the bounty was still active. Yet with the dissolvement of the Galactic Alliance, the warrant may as well be null and void. Shaking the thought out of his head, he returned his attention to the guildmaster.

"Apologies for the delay. You know how the High Republic gets with their patrols. Had to take the long way 'round. But, I know there's some information you are after. Shall we find a place to discuss?"

 

[Makar Clyne]

Makar ignored Henriwatta's insults, what was a little harder to ignore was the intrusion of the strange Zeltron man. He was an unknown to the pirate lord, but that was of little concern. Getting this deep into The Wheel was a sign he was to be trusted. For now Makar would be respectful, and keep his distance from Keys .

"Torve Weed? How very interesting, I hadn't considered you a drug dealer Henri. Common smuggling seems so... beneath you." With a chuckle, Makar sat the blaster down on a table, acknowledging the seriousness of their conversation. His ability to shift from jovial showman back into hardened criminal bordering on disturbing. "But I have little use for the crops, so we can make a deal."

His aims went far beyond simple narcotics, but the torve weed crops of Algara II were necessary. They were a bargaining chip, and a source of income for his future shadowport operations. Losing twenty-percent of their profits, and a huge upfront cost was something he was very willing to do. So long as The Republic kept their noses out of his business.

"Perhaps your pink-skinned friend would have use for some real estate ventures?" Keys was here at Henriwatta's pleasure, but Makar had heard him talking about The Republic and their patrols. That meant he was probably a kindred spirit when it came to breaking the law.

Tags: Henriwatta Wabbo​

 

[Koda Fett]

"Your way of things was of little interest to me," said Fett, taking the service special in-hand.

He took aim down the afforded range, standing sidelong with a narrowed eye peering through visor and deployed rangefinder.

"You sell, I buy. Simple."

The Mandalorian squeezed on the trigger and the bolt ejected, thundering like a cannon blast with a loud thoom! and a shot of trailing steam. The smoke cleared and old droid in the form of a target was blown away. Despite the densely amoured chassis. Taking another, finer inspection of the weapon, he murmured, "Hm."

Satisfaction.

"I'll take it."

Henriwatta Wabbo Makar Clyne Keys

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

Henriwatta's adopted a smile as she moved past the unsufferable pirate toward the door. The pink-skinned contact she had actually been waiting for all rotation had finally decided to show his face, strolling into the vault with an entirely too relaxed posture. Her eyes locking onto Keys as he waved the signed invitation in his left hand, offering a rather smooth apology about High Republic patrols forcing him to take the long way around.

"Keys, darling," Henriwatta rasped, her voice dripping with dry amusement as she watched the Zeltron approach. She took a slow, deliberate drag of her cigarra and flicked a stray speck of ash toward the floor.

"You're late. And in my book, being late means you're costing me credits. I'm glad you made it through the patrols, sweetheart, but expect a hefty deduction from your upcoming payment for keeping the most beautiful lady in the sector waiting" Before Keys could offer a clever retort, Makar Clyne chimed in with a low chuckle, setting his blaster back on the examination table. The pirate captain's voice carried a snide, mocking edge as he remarked on the torve weed, noting that he hadn't considered her a drug dealer and that common smuggling seemed beneath her.

Henriwatta dismissed the comment with a rough, heavy shrug, her wings beating a lazy, effortless rhythm in the air. She rolled her eyes at the pirate's attempt at a moral high ground. "Oh, please, Clyne. Times are tough in the arms industry, and diversity of investment is the first rule of business," she scoffed, blowing a thin stream of smoke off to the side.

"If the galaxy wants to numb its collective mind with Algarine weeds, I am more than happy to facilitate the supply lines for a proper fee. Credits don't care what form they take, whether it's a blaster bolt or a brick of spice." Makar seemed perfectly content to accept her steep terms, even turning to Keys to ask if the pink-skinned newcomer had any interest in real estate ventures within Republic space.

Henriwatta didn't even give them a chance to chat, because a deafening boom suddenly rattled the metal bulkheads of the storehouse. Down the newly opened corridor, a thick cloud of steam and white smoke trailed out of the firing range. The old, heavily armored target droid at the end of the tunnel was entirely gone, its reinforced chassis blown completely to pieces.

Koda Fett stood at the edge of the range, lowering the smoking service special. The Mandalorian took a finer, much more respectful inspection of the pre-gulag weapon in his gauntleted hands before offering a low murmur of approval. Henriwatta's eyes practically sparkled with pure, unadulterated greed.

She floated over toward the Mandalorian, her wings humming with excitement as she sensed an even bigger payout on the horizon. The irritation from before vanished instantly, replaced by the brilliant, calculating instincts of a master arms dealer.

"A marvelous choice, Fett! I knew a professional like you would recognize true craftsmanship," the Toydarian purred, hovering just over his shoulder. She gestured with her gold-banded cigarette holder toward the secure racks behind her, where a long, menacing rifle with a sleek, heavy barrel was resting under the security lights. "But if you really want to ensure your targets stay down, you should look at this beauty right next to it," Henriwatta croaked, her voice thick with salesman charm.

"The CAPR-01 Armor Penetrating Rifle. It's the absolute latest advancement in armor-piercing technology. Even a heavily armored bounty hunter such as yourself would be blown to smithereens with this weapon. Certainly would be able to deal with Jedi, Sith and Mandalorians." She rubbed her hands in anticipation of selling these weapons, as they were both illegal and highly sought after in the Criminal Underworlds. The Toydarian also aimed to make it clear to Fett that she could become hostile if necessary; she had the firepower to back it up, so he better recognize her value.

 

[Keys]

It's true, he was late.

The Zeltron grumbled internally as the cost of credits was mentioned. A deduction of his pay would definitely cause some problems, but it was unwise to try and argue. Profits made from this proposed deal would more than make up for this small setback.

"Unfortunate, but understandable."

Keys followed Henriwatta as she flew on over to the pirate. The mention of spice and Republic real estate did pique his interest, though for now he did not pursue that conversation. Dealings with the Toydarian were much more important. Before he had the chance to speak again, she was already off to discussion firepower with Fett. It seemed as if no one could get the crime lord's attention. Keys knew his ice was already thinning after showing up late, so he decided it was best to wait for her to return. Once she did, he spoke.

"Now, Henritta, I think it's time we talk shop. Whereabouts is this cargo you're looking to transport through Zeltronian space?"

Henriwatta Wabbo | Koda Fett | Makar Clyne ​

[div]

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

Henriwatta hovered in place, her short fingers continuing their rubbing as she watched the heavy, dark visor of Koda Fett helmet tilt slightly toward the formidable CAPR-01 Armor Penetrating Rifle on the table. She let the silence stretch for a moment, letting the subtle threat hang in the air while she brought the cigarra holder to her snout to inhale another dose of spice.

While he was making up his mind on the provided weapon, a chuckle escaped from her snout when Keys finally spoke up from behind her. The Zeltron had remained remarkably patient, standing by while she moved from pirate schemes to high-grade military arms dealing with an infamous bounty hunter.

His question about the cargo destination finally drew her attention back around, her wings doing a slight banking maneuver to bring her face-to-face with him.

"Always so impatient, you Zeltrons. You skip right to the main course before you even taste the wine," Henriwatta rasped, her voice dropping into a confidential murmur that still carried across the quiet vault.

She drifted a few inches closer to him, the heavy gold bands on her fingers tapping against the polished black alloy case she had pulled from the floor earlier. "The cargo is sitting securely in the lower berths of this very station, darling. Three dozen crates of Polstine Spice." she explained with a slight amusement in her voice.

"They need to pass through the Zeltros Sector in order to meet a client working at the Kuat Shipyard over Rasterous. Remember that even a single dose of this spice can land you in prison for the rest of your life. So best not open the cargo on your ship." She paused, taking a slow, deep drag of her cigarra, her gaze drifting sideways for a brief second to ensure Makar Clyne wasn't listening too closely to the specifics.

The pirate captain was still lurking near the examination table, and Henriwatta had no intention of letting him get a second chance at intercepting her payroll.

 

[Keys]

"Always so impatient, you Zeltrons. You skip right to the main course before you even taste the wine," Henriwatta rasped, her voice dropping into a confidential murmur that still carried across the quiet vault.

A sly smirk was directed towards Henriwatta.

"What can I say, Zeltrons like to indulge."

The cargo was finally brought into the conversation, which is what Keys was most interested in. While he was second-in-command of The Exchange, this deal was a personal matter. He still had ties to Zeltron, even if it was no longer his permanent residence. There were upcoming plans in place to an outpost for the Black Market to operate out of. Successfully transporting the Polstine Spice would be a test run of sorts. Confirm exact details on regional patrols, hangar bay access, bribability of the guards. All soon to be collected.

Keys nodded in acknowledgement as the Toydarian preached the danger of this run. He knew the danger, and it was worth the risk. The trip to Rasterous would be no walk in the park. The High Republic had been a thorn in everyone's side when it came to smuggling. Those noble pricks just can't mind their own business. Whispers through the Underworld floated around that the Black Sun Syndicate was still alive and in hiding, possibly planning a strike on the galactic power. Good. Soon they will learn their place.

"I'm only here for the smuggling, not the spice high. Can't partake in your own product."

Besides, Twi'lek strippers are a much cheaper high to obtain.

"My men will load up those crates for yah. A Rono is docked nearby, so we'll need access to the hangar bay."

Producing a small datapad, the Zeltron sent a message to his crew who was on standby. They would soon make their way to the storage room and load up the spice. Once onboard, they ship would depart alongside Keys' personal U-Wing, which would act as protector of the spice ship. A backroad hyperlane would surely be found in The Exchange's databanks, so there was no worry there. Finding a suitable planet to refuel though, that would be the real issue.

"Now, before we go any further, I think it's only fair we discuss...compensation for this little excursion?"

Credits were just fine within the Underworld. However, if Henriwatta wanted to offer anything else for payment, such as items to sell on the Black Market, intel on high value targets, rumors of unlooted caches, anything that could be of value to the Zeltron.

Henriwatta Wabbo | Koda Fett | Makar Clyne ​

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

"Here take the spare access card, but you better return it before you depart or I'll have Karkosuchus on your little pink behind before you can say Nal Hutta." Henriwatta let out a low, gravelly whistle that cut through the lingering aroma of burned spice and cheap tobacco as her hand tossed the spare access card from her belt to Keys .

Her wings beat in a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm as she listened to Keys layout his logistics. A Rono-class freighter, a personal U-wing escort, a crew on standby, the boy certainly had ambition. But when he brought up the subject of compensation, the Toydarian's snout wrinkled in a slow, knowing smirk.

She paused for a moment, her prominent eyes rolling slightly toward the ceiling as she did some rapid math in her head. Keys was late, yes, but he was also taking on a shipment of Polstine Spice that could get an entire crew sent to the spice mines of Kessel if the High Republic patrols got lucky.

It required a delicate touch. With a lazy flick of her webbed wrist, she didn't answer right away. Instead, she gestured toward a dark corner of the storehouse where a quiet, green-skinned Rodian enforcer had been standing guard in the shadows.

"Meeko, bring the lockbox," she rasped. The Rodian nodded, his suction-cup fingers lifting a small, scuffed metal container from a shelf and marching it over to the examination table, setting it down with a heavy, hollow thud right beside Koda Fett's chosen weapons.

Henriwatta floated down until she was hovering just above the container, her gold rings clicking sharply against the metal latches as she popped the lid open. Inside rested two distinct choices. On one side, neat, glowing stacks of clean, untraceable credit chips. On the other, two sleek, shimmering metallic chits stamped with an elegant, glowing crest.

"You want to talk compensation, darling? I can give you the standard ten thousand credits upfront to cover your fuel and your boys' silence," Henriwatta murmured, her voice thick with amusement as she looked between Keys and the box. She reached in with two fingers, delicately tapping the edge of the two metallic chits.

"Or... I can give you these. Two signed, lifetime invitations to Club Luvurine." She leaned forward in the air, a wicked, knowing grin spreading across her face.

"It's a private paradise that sees the most influential traffic in the galaxy, from Core-world crime lords to the highest megacorporation CEOs looking to misbehave. The kind of place where a smooth-talking boy like you can secure a dozen new smuggling contracts or blackmail a Kuat executive before the second drink is poured." She winked, blowing a thin ring of smoke his way.

 

[Keys]

An uneasy gulp was swallowed at the mention of Karkosuchus . The rumors alone were enough to keep grown men sleep with their lights on.

"The last thing I want to do is get on the business end of that snout."

Looking towards Henriwatta's worker, he tracked the medium sized container as it made its way over. There was some weight to the sound as it was set down. Good, this better be a high paying job. Even the Toydarian knew the risk that he was taking by doing this. If either of them wanted to expand their operations, the dirty work needed to be done.

However, as the crate opened, his attention was instantly grabbed.

Keys' eyes shot down to the two silver chits. Those metallic plates were recognizable to the Zeltron. His late Captain Pyrrah owned one and often visited the infamous club. Most heists and missions that the crew carried out were suspected to be formulated here. A fair amount of The Exchange's inventory was purchased by deals made within those walls. The status of the individuals who frequented was galaxy wide.

Now, the man was smart, and he knew not to play his hand too early. But it was very hard not to reach into that bin, accept the invitations to the club, and never look back. Putting on his best poker face, he tried to wheel and deal.

"Hmm...those invitations are intriguing. I need to pay my men though, and two passes doesn't put credits in their pockets. You know as well as I do that the spice has to be delivered, and there are very few people who could get this job done."

His pink reached up to stroke his roughly shaven stubble, considered what counter-offer should be made.

"Five thousand credits and the two pass. Then we leave for Rasterous within the hour."

Reaching out to Henriwatta, Keys offered his right hand to shake on the deal. His rebuttal was high, but justifiable. He only hoped that the crime lord would accept.

Henriwatta Wabbo ​

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

Henriwatta's wings dropped a beat, and she sank a foot in the air before recovering her hover with an irritated buzz. Her snout twisted into a scowl as she stared down at the extended pink hand. "Five thousand and the passes?" she hissed, her voice dropping to a low rumble.

"You've got a lot of nerve for a guy who couldn't even manage to show up on time, Keys. That's not a counter-offer; that's highway robbery, and I'm the one who's supposed to be running the racket here." She folded her arms over her chest, the heavy gold rings on her fingers clicking together as she looked from his face down to the open box.

Five thousand credits out of her immediate stash, plus two highly exclusive chits she could have used to grease a governor's palm next month. It was an awful deal. For a second, she considered calling Meeko and the rest of the heavy enforcers to throw Keys right out of the airlock.

But then her eyes drifted toward the far corner of the warehouse, where the shipping logs for the Kuat Shipyard client were blinking on a wall terminal. The buyer was powerful, impatient, and already expecting the Polstine Spice.

If the shipment failed to arrive over Rasterous, it wouldn't just be a loss of credits, it would ruin her reliability. In her line of work, a reputation for delivering on time was the only thing keeping rivals from moving in on her territory.

Letting out a rough growl in annoyance, she reached into the box. She snatched the two silver passes and the stack of credit chips, dropping them into Keys' open palm with a loud metal clink. "Fine. Take it," Henriwatta spat, turning her back to him in the air to take a long drag of her cigarra.

"But you hear me, sweetheart: that spice better land exactly where it's supposed to, without a single gram missing. If a Republic patrol so much as looks at those crates sideways because your boys got sloppy, I'm going to post a death mark on you so large the only occupation you'll be able to get is a corpse" She floated upward a few inches, looking down her snout at him through the rising smoke.