Aggressive Takeover

[Maris Fero]

[Night Market, Efavan Low City, Vorzyd V (Gambler's World), Outer Rim. Aggressive Takeover]​

​

Becaad market was alive with the hubbub of a countless traders, dealers and customers from a thousand different worlds and cultures. Lifeforms of every shape and size bartered and bid for goods both exotic and mundane. A solitary figure stalked through the milling crowd with uncanny ease, almost as if the masses would part way for her path or she would effortlessly weave a certain route that navigated past knotted groups. As she walked Maris caught fragments of a dozen conversations from the bazaar’s patrons, talk of drugs and illegal imports spoken of as openly as fruit, fuel or fragrances.

The whole place was abuzz, a crucible of cultures. Myriad voices and dialects - many utterly alien to the girl who overheard - melded into the continual rhythm of the space, echoing from the high arched ceilings and cavernous market spaces. The youth kept her gaze low and her head deep in the recess of her hood as she let her gaze examine the goods on display, occasionally she would pause to look toward a stall, though each time it was little more than a cover as her eyes fell upon an unguarded bag or exposed valuable. She smiled to herself as she brushed past another distracted shopper, lifting a bag of credits with ease, before colliding with a burly chevin and nearly toppling.

She scowled at the huge oaf and offered him an unfriendly gesture and a hissed curse beneath her breath before she walked on, grinning to herself at the timepiece she had lifted from the alien in her brush past.

Yet her time was not her own, and the practice in the crowds - though entertaining - had not been Maris’ reason to visit the night market of Efavan, she would need to pick up the pace to make her meet with Tratten’s dealer. She held no affections for the gruff Besalisk, in truth Maris was still trying to come up with a way to succeed the ex-enforcers power and continue her climb up the ladder, but she couldn’t say he was the worst man to work for on Vorzyd V - far from it.

Maris changed tack, heading toward a side passage in the maze of stalls and customers, somewhere in her wake the Chevin’s raised voice rumbled at the discovery of his missing timepiece.

As she left the main thoroughfare Maris was joined by two other youths, each of similar age and sporting similar fashions - the synchronised way they had arrived would have seemed eerily choreographed to any onlookers, but those who shopped in this particular passage had a talent for avoiding each other’s business.

This passageway was much less crowded, the buzz of the main floor a dull echo from behind, here she caught the strong sweet scent of spice moccu kebabs on the open grill and smokey lakii sauce. Despite herself she let her eyes rest on the tasty offerings of the stall for a moment, betraying a growing hunger.

Still she pressed on, heading into another sub passage to a near deserted lot, an odd marking of faded grafitti offering the only sign that a certain business could be found nearby. She approached the closed lot and her delinquent pair of attaches dropped back to let Maris enter alone.

She had met Vion Maant a dozen times, the arms dealer had been in business in this system for a decade or more, Maris tried her best to hide her surprise when the usual array of Vion’s entourage were absent from the space, more so as Vion herself was nowhere to be seen. Instead she was greeted by the gaze of a stranger, and a chill past over the youth as her mind raced over the possibility of a trap.

Though she was confident very little of the emotion would show on her face her voice couldn't help but reveal a degree of her hesitation.

"I'm here to see Vion Maant.."

[member="Darth Vitium"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

It had been nearly half a year since the Sith Lord had returned to the realm of the living, and she anticipated total control to arrive within her possession not much more than half a year later. She had traveled the galaxy in the last six months dueling fellow Sith and forcing them to accept a pact to unite them, never once showing dominance except to demonstrate that opposing her goal would only result in their subjugation, and to fund this ambitious search for power led her to founding an arms manufacturer on Ziost - and that led her to a contract with the criminal underworld of Vorzyd V. Criminals, the most vile and pathetic wrung of society, occupied much of the gambler world that was situated just south of Sith space, east of Mandalorian territory, and to the west of the Silver Jedi, and they needed weapons, armor, and munitions by the boatload to enforce their ever-changing rule of the black market.

It was in the criminal underground of Becaad market that Vitium had found herself, under the persona of Thalia Hart, waiting for the members of some prominent gang to settle on a purchase. Vion Maant had posed himself to be the middle man, not knowing of the Sith Lord's connections or that she was even a Sith to begin with. When her demands to simply sell directly to the people aligned with Tratten were instead met with threats and drawn weapons, however, the arms dealer quickly found himself, and his troupe of ingrates, replaced with the woman who was well on her way to becoming regarded as Dark Lord of the Sith. A bit of digging led her to finding that he'd planned to meet with Tratten's people soon after their own negotiations, so she simply waited for them to arrive. By the time that [member="Maris Fero"] stumbled upon the Sith lord the mess had largely been cleaned up and the only sign of a struggle - a dent in the steel wall - was covered up by a well placed painting.

"I'm afraid that Mister Maant is indisposed for the foreseeable future." She replied without missing a beat, speaking as naturally as though she'd been rehearsing the line for hours. "I am Miss Hart, and am certain I can provide help where Mister Maant could have in the past." Vitium added, giving the name of the woman whose life had been sacrificed to bring her back to life. "I don't suppose you're with that Besalisk?" She asked, adding a slight smile to the mix. Dealing with business was not a foreign concept to her, though she was a bit new to the whole "underground" and black market side of things. And though she could feel the apprehension in the teenager's voice, there was also a bit of something else buried beneath the street smarts and caution. She was on the world to secure some credits, certainly, but she'd since parted ways with her previous apprentice and couldn't help but keep an eye out for a potential replacement - and force sensitive street urchins without any real presence in the larger expanse of the galaxy were always more welcome to the fold than former Jedi-turned-Dark siders.

She'd have to keep an eye on this one, test her if need be.

 

[Maris Fero]

If her recent cut throat exploits with those she counted amongst her peers had taught Maris anything, it was that any new or unexpected opportunity presented deserved to be approached with a healthy dose of scepticism and a sense of caution.

It was clear that whatever had occurred at Maant’s had happened recently and it had happened quickly, news travelled fast in the Efavan underground, and the death of Vion Maant would not go unnoticed for long. In a place as corrupt as this, who truly knew who had been pulling Maant’s strings. The newcomer, Miss Hart, was an unknown quantity, but Maris sensed no hesitance or even apprehension in her tone or poise. To Maris that meant one of two things, either this woman was very very stupid - or exceptionally dangerous. With only their short exchange and the trace of a confident grin on the woman's scarred features to inform her opinion, Maris favoured the latter.

Making an effort to be relaxed she came further into the space. Nevertheless, Maris made sure to maintain her distance from Miss Hart whilst keeping a clear route between herself and the exit. She moved to lean against the edge of a table, perching lightly against the edge, keeping her hand they she could be seen but no too far from the concealed blaster tucked into her waistband and lost in the draping folds of her hood.
She returned the dangerous newcomers slight smile, though a keen observer would not the nervousness to her, barely contained excitement at the tension of their situation.
“I know a big guy with four arms and a breath problem.” she answered noncommittally as the youth let her gaze take in the rest of the space - doing a fairly good job of looking bored whilst actually assessing the space and looking for signs of what might have occurred. There were precious little evidence to suggest the change of hands. Very recent indeed.

“Listen Miss Hart, My friend had a deal with Mister Maant,” she started the lie with confidence, usually a successful tactic in the past, “...and so far he hasn’t seen the last batch of merchandise.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know when I can take that delivery, because Mr Tratten more has credits to spend.”

She studied the newcomers face for signs of a reaction, all the while trying to maintain a sense of restraint and imagine anything but the heavy beat of her heart thumping behind her ribs. Something about Miss Hart's stillness gave Maris chills.

[member="Darth Vitium"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

She'd expected the girl to feign ignorance, perhaps to suspect that the Sith - calling herself 'Miss Hart' - was a bit more dangerous than her slightly scarred face led her to appear. Really, she thought that the absence of Maant and her presence would make the teen a bit skittish, Instead she tried to remain collected, maybe even calm, and played her part well in this game of words. Had she not taken the time to rid herself of the middle-man, this Maant, and known to expect little miss [member="Maris Fero"] to come on the Besalisk's behalf - though, to be quite fair, she had expected someone a little more tall, and possibly with a couple more arms, then a small teenage girl - then perhaps his small fib about this supposed deal would have sounded a bit more real to her.

"Mister Maant is no longer in business, and left without any pending shipments to be spoken of." She replied with a grin. She was like a wolf eyeing a small rabbit that was none-the-wiser, only she had no plans to kill the young girl. "But I would be more than glad to fill an order for your dear friend, perhaps if you brought me to him." The woman explained, gesturing to the desk that had formerly sat Maant, now simply adorned with a few dozen papers and a datapad. "I supply weapons and armor out of Ziost, the kind of stuff that people use to kill Jedi and fight against military with - stuff that even the Sith wish they could get their hands on. Normal I'd charge a hefty charge, but for Mister Tratten I'd be willing to make a deal." She said. Without much else to say, she strode across the room to the desk and lifted up the datapad, presumably intent on signing any contracts on it rather than on paper or any other means.

"I can assure you I charge a reasonable price, far less than Mister Maant was asking for." She added.

 

[Maris Fero]

[SIZE=13.3333px]The girl held the smile rigidly as she cursed the dangerous Miss Hart silently for calling her bluff, dismissing her crude scam seemingly without a pause for thought. It was a dangerous game to play with such an unknown quantity, but if truth be told Maris found herself quite unable to resist such urges - especially those that came with such an inherent risk attached. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]“My friend will be disappointed, he and Mister Maant had a long partnership. If he’s no longer in business then we need to make new arrangements.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]Maant had been a simple enough business partner, but the relative scarcity of the arms business on Vorzyd V had allowed the dealer to gouge the local gangs to his own benefit, or that of his masters. Then again the needs of the urban criminals of Vorzyd had never been so upmarket as to need advanced weapons. The blaster she so awkwardly carried was an old well worn model that was prized more for its concealability and untraceability than any special features or stopping power. She had only fired the thing in anger a handful of times and was confident that she had never fatally wounded anyone with the brutal little weapon. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]In fact Maris had no idea what Tratten needed the new armaments for, or who he was buying on behalf of. What had become clear to her was that the Besalisk had wanted to keep his hands clean from this shipment and as such had left the exchange and payments to his ‘trusted’ underlings. Was it even a coincidence that she was stood in front of Hart rather than Tratten?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]She listened to Hart expound on the quality of her products in silence; a number of questions coming to mind which she didn’t dare voice yet - unwilling to share her relative ignorance with the dangerous new contact.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]Did you need special weapons to kill a Jedi or a Soldier? Did Tratten need weapons to fight the Jedi? Was he buying for a Sith? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]She had heard of the Sith and the Jedi, who hadn’t. If Tratten was involved in that stuff, if this woman was, then maybe it was best she stay out of it and kept to her own little war. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]“.. That’s very generous of you Miss Hart, I’m sure my friend would appreciate your offer.” she rose from where she was perched, moving closer - if only to keep an eye on what Hart was up to. She hovered for a moment awkwardly before making a decision, “Listen.. Miss Hart, I dunno about Sith weapons or fighting the military, I can take you to him and you two can sort it out.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]She paused a moment to let the newcomer react, before swallowing her nerves and taking a slightly bolder step. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]“And maybe after you and I can talk about another deal? Without him. For helping set this all up?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]It was a risk, Tratten would be mad that she got him involved at all, this new contact could give her away. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=13.3333px]Or perhaps Hart might deal with Tratten and solve one of Maris’ problems.[/SIZE]

[member="Darth Vitium"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

The woman, masquerading as Thalia Hart, remained silent as the girl stepped closer and spoke. Her expression, a pleasant grin, still etched on her face as she described the problem with Maant's.. disappearance. It hardly mattered to her, though, as she planned to provide weapons, armor, and other such things as a cost that she was certain the crimelords of Vorzyd V would greatly appreciate - and if all else failed, she'd take those matters into her own hands. All she was after was a buyer who could afford the packages she was offering, after all, so if this Maant fellow didn't work out she would simply go to one of his rivals. But it seemed like the little messenger girl was up to par and realized a steal when she found one - the Sith knew how much that Maant was gouging them for, being a rather exclusive arms dealer on the planet, so it came as no surprise that offering much less would be far more appealing.

Turning away from the desk, datapad in hand, she put on a smile at the mention of a secondary deal. If it was even remotely similar to what she thought that the girl was going to ask for, it was going to be even easier to secure an arms deal on this planet and possibly get rid of some stubborn Besalisk at the same time. It was almost always better, after all, to plant a loyal supporter in debt as the leader of a group in need than to keep someone who might try to bite off more than they could chew. "Of course. We can talk as soon as we've met your friend, unless you'd prefer to make this deal preemptively?" She said, her words trailing off quizzically with the expectation for the girl to answer before they'd leave. If the deal in question was what she thought it was, it was probably going to be easier to secure that deal first than it would to sell arms to a group and then have to re-negotiate.

[member="Maris Fero"]