Private A Vigo and His Assassins

[Khuro Fierfek]

Pale vermilion tendrils of tabac smoke slithered from the tip of Khuro Fierfek’s long-handled kiseru pipe. Passing through the shimmering azure of beamed holoprojections from the single bulbous eye of a BB-9E astromech, the smoke bled from vermillion to a myriad of purples. Withering into thin wisps, the smoke framed a rotating gallery of holoportraits. Each holoportrait was a candid and clandestinely acquired surveillance shot; the culmination of weeks of cashing in the implicitly bartered services of a particular broker-node in Khuro’s underworld network.

There were six total. Five bounty hunters of mixed alien and near-human species, and their master, a particularly garish Toydarian. A stream of aurebesh captioned the Toydarian’s revolving image with a torrent of laboriously purchased intelligence. Khuro pulled the tip of the kiseru pipe back to her lips, pinched its end and sucked another slim breath of Naboo cultivated luxury tabac.

The repugnant flying sack of flesh and gaudy adorned fabrics had a name: Banduuk Bulge. Bulge, because the Toydarian had grown so fat his small membrane wings could no longer carry his weight and had to rely on a set of repulsorlifts mounted to a chrome plated belt. On Nar Shaddaa he had made a name for himself as a purveyor of many services; smuggling, assassination, information brokering, and black market fencing to name a few. Although he would dare call himself a Crime Lord, to Khuro he was nothing but a peddler. He did nothing, owned nothing, and merely moved everything other people worked hard to gather for a hefty fee. A self-absorbed middle man. Such delusions of enterprise had convinced him that he had the means, and foolishly once more, the security, to play the most dangerous game among thieves and cutthroats…politics.

The gallery revolved to the end of its ring of holoportraits and onto a dapper man in a well tailored suit, trimmed moustache, and goatee. He was Banduuk’s target, none other than a Vigo, an advisor to the Black Sun Syndicate's own Underlord, Velzari Tharn. The Toydarain had marked for death a one Razmir Tezhyn . Khuro took another puff and passed her corrupted golden eyes from one ream of aurebesh data to the next. Line by line she studied, analyzed and calculated. Banduuk was an arrogant idiot with too many credits and too much imagination. But his stupidity was her gain. Slaughtering his bounty hunters would slate two of her growing hungers - boredom and ambition. No greater chip to play than the saved life of a Vigo.

“M’Lady we will be arriving at the Accretion Disco Station soon,” chimed a KX-Series Enforcer that had been modified with the cyborg-human relations diplomatic modules of a 3P0 Protocol Droid. “Time before exit from Hyperspace should approximately be three-minutes.”

Khuro pulled the kiresu pipe from her lips and turned it over to pat its long handle against a black obsidian ashtray. Bright embers from its small smoking bowl rained brimstone and ash in miniature and with a deft turn she placed the kiresu on top of the ashtray. She waved the BB-9E away and it blinked shut the gallery before nodding its small head unit and rolling away. Khuro stood from the round lavishly cushioned semi-circle bench that took up the main commons space behind the cockpit entrance. She walked into the cockpit and sat beside the KX droid sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“Do you wager there will be much violence at your rendezvous this evening M’Lady?” asked the KX Droid, its modulated protocol droid voice clashing with its hulking enforcer security droid build.

“Oh yes, Tetsuboh. Oh yes,” replied the Atrisian assassin. “I expect plenty of it.”

The flickering lines of hyperspace died, shrinking back into dim dots as the Baudo Class Yacht, the Oirhan, burst from hyperspace. It was met by the hot glow of an event horizon burning space and time around the edge of a black hole; and hovering salaciously, just above it, was the Accretion Disco Space Station.

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

The VIP booth Razmir currently occupied had been turned into a temporary office. Several datapads lay scattered across it, with holo-projectors displaying up-to-date charts and news headlines keyed into specific phrases and terms. Two of his analysts had their portable holo-computers opened up and typed away crunching numbers or preparing briefs.

The latest reports from the Core spoke of major economic shifts throughout the galaxy. The Alliance's trade relations and economic policies would likely not survive the Empire. Not only were those policies a symbol of the very enemy they tried to destroy, they also permitted a lot of freedom to corporate entities. An arrangement that Razmir still thanked Tithe and the now-historical Corporate Bloc for.

The Empire, however, had a tendency to prefer influencing the market with a more direct hand. Reputation and connections with the government mattered far more than they used to. If Raz wasn't able to secure the proper connections, it might cut into the profits of his legitimate businesses, which in turn would jeopardize his less-legitimate operations that relied on the shade provided by the clean fronts.

"Razmir," a gruff voice--belonging to the Duro, Je'ames--pulled Raz from his thoughts.

Raz put down the datapad he'd been reading--a dry report speculating about the new cast of major players on Coruscant--and turned to the enforcer.

"Did the Dae-Sin representative arrive early again? I'll go get my coat," Razmir asked.

"No, sir. It's not them. We have a heightened presence of bounty hunters this evening, sir."

"Bounty hunters?" Razmir looked past his enforcer.

His gaze swept the dancefloor, a story below the VIP floor where he sat in a private, sound-isolated booth. The clientele looked the same as it always did to him. A crowd of affluent thrill-seekers, their sycophants, and those who chased their wealth.

Razmir sighed.

"Stay alert, then. I'll keep my comms-link open. You know the channel," Raz waved Je'ames away, and returned his focus to the article on Aspiring-Moff Blimsby.

Khuro Fierfek

 

[Khuro Fierfek]

Docked into the Accretion Disco’s outer ring of private hangars, Khuro and her KX Enforcer Tetsuboh proceeded through the space station towards the main entertainment hub, the Black Halo Club. The entrance to the hub was a wide circle gate flanked by a pair of surly looking Gamorreans, bedecked in trim and tailored gilt auropyle fineweaved suits. When Khuro approached the entrance gate with Tetsuboh, they were stopped by the twin bouncers. The one with gold grills and bejewelled decals inlaid into his two protruding tusks stepped forward and blocked Khuro with his meaty green palm and stubby fingers.

“No droids,” the Gamorrean grunted, snarling the words out of his wide and flabby lips.

Khuro looked over her shoulder and nudged her head at Tetsuboh. The KX droid bowed his head. Khuro turned back to the golden tusked Gamorrean but her first step forward was interrupted by another obstruction. The Gamorrean abruptly lowered his hand and shoved it into Khuro’s waist. The Atrisian assassin froze and made her venomous contempt for being touched known by a narrowed glare that passed from the Gamorrean’s hand and up to his bulging swiney eyes.

“No weapons,” said the Gamorrean, twisting his fat lips into a smile as he ran his hand down her thighs to brush against the long sheaths that housed her two sabers.

Khuro slit her glare across his face and beyond his broad shoulders into the dancefloor. She glanced at the clientele carousing, dancing and cavorting. Among them were less appropriately dressed patrons of the Accretion Disco - Bounty Hunters. Khuro drew her mean look back to the Gamorrean.

“And them?” she said, tipping the end of her kiseru pipe at the Bounty Hunters.

The other Gamorrean stepped up this time. His eyes had been replaced by a solid band of chrome, a cybernetic implant that replaced flesh with circuitry and a lattice of micro camera lenses. He unbuttoned his suit’s blazer as he walked closer to Khuro, flashing the heavy blaster pistol hung off his chest in a holster. The second bouncer leaned closer and breathed the answer to her face.

“Extra security,” he said, punctuating his words with a guttural snort. “There are a lot of important people here on this Horizon-Cycle. The Don Proprietor has hired new guards for the VIP booths up top.”

“But guests bring nothing in,” growled the first Gamorrean. “Got it?”

“I see,” said Khuro.

She raised her hand and smacked away the fat lecherous grip on her thigh, before diving her hand in the same flicking strike to slide out the two sheathed sabers from her obi sash’s tying obijime cord belt. Khuro turned and handed the sabers to Tetsuboh.

“Take these and yourself back to the Oihran, Tetsuboh,” said Khuro.

“At once M’Lady,” answered the droid. “Have a very pleasant cycle.” The KX Enforcer turned around and marched off. Khuro returned back to the Gamorrean Bouncers.

The second one passed a scanner rod over her body and as it slid up her left forearm it let out a groaning alarm. The first Gamorrean snatched her wrist and the lengthy red leather gloves that sleeved her arm up to her elbows.

“I said no weapons!” snapped the first Gamorrean.

“A Mechano Arm,” Khuro hissed back. “Would you like me to shed my synthskin and hold up the line even more with your asinine prodding?”

The Gamorrean scoffed and let go. “Fine, go inside,” he spat.

Khuro entered the Black Halo Club finally and was immediately met with an onrush of pounding music, heat of crowds, and the thrum of flickering lights. She cut through the crowd, moving towards the staircases that led up to the private booths that ringed around the dancefloor. Above, dancer girls flashed their sensual movements and alluring gestures from inside repulsorlift suspended cages. Among the dancers hologram projections of nebulae drifted illusory constellations. As she moved, Khuro kept an eye out for the five bounty hunters: two trandoshans, an ugly looking and scarred Aqualish, and a pair of Twi’leks. But first she would make her deal with the target of this motley crew of cutthroats and blaster-happy killers.

She rose up the steps and spied the Duros exiting out from a private booth. In the crack between the door and the Duros she could see him, Vigo Tezhyn. Khuro approached the door and gave the Duros an acknowledging look.

“I am Fierfek. Khuro Fierfek. And I have traced five bounty hunters here who want your Master’s head,” said Khuro to the Duros. “However…if you wish those threats exorcised, you will allow me audience with the Vigo Razmir Tezhyn .”