Public Bounty Hunter Application Help Desk: Come One, Come All

[Mammut]

Mammut sat in an enormous chair behind a desk in a mostly empty warehouse. Syndicate enforcers stood around, generously sprinkled about the floor in case the visitors got any bright ideas.

The desk had a little sign on it that said “Hunter Application Help Desk.”

A pile of flimsiplast sheets filled a tray on the desk. Mammut was vigorously seizing them and wielding his gigantic rubber stamp like a hammer.

“Approved, approved, approved,” he muttered under his breath.

The next Hunter hopeful should arrive soon.

OOC: if you require a Black Sun sponsor to approve your bounty hunter license, please approach the Chevin.

 

[Diamond Dog]

Diamond Dog, dressed in a pressed white shirt, suit pants, and leather jacket, approached the desk holding a stack of flimsiplast forms. They had been filled out with pen. The handwriting was barely legible.

His facemask displayed a bright, yellow smiley face, matching the tie he wore. His previous handler had told him to be more "approachable". A quick holonet search had told him that smiling made you more approachable.

"Hello," the voice that played through the facemask's speakers didn't entirely match the Gank's getup. It was friendly, business-like. The voice of a salesman, and vaguely pre-recorded sounding.

"My name is Dog, Diamond," last name, then first. He'd been told that was the proper way.

"I'm currently exploring new opportunities as a fugitive recovery specialist. I have five plus years of experience in the field, as well as adjacent, related fields. I'm really interested in forcible personal transformation management and capture process optimization. I saw your job posting and would love to learn more about your work and any opportunities you may have available."

That was business, baby. He was doing it right.

"I also filled out the paperwork," he held the flimsiplast forms out for the Chevin to take. That face on his mask kept giving a professional, but enthusiastic smile.

Mammut

 

[Mammut]

“Hmm, HMMM,” mused the Chevin, flipping through the offered stack of flimsiplast.

“Oh yes. Oh my.” He snuffled.

“Impressive impressive, but perhaps room for improvement hmm?” A big eye regarded the Gank over the stack of paperwork.

“I have just the thing for you.” He opened a drawer and took out a different rubber stamp. He slammed it down on the Gank’s forms. “Provisional license - after completion of a professional training course. For safety purposes.” He smiled too broadly.

 

[Diamond Dog]

Great joy struck DD as the emotional regulators in his cranium dumped an appropriate dose of dopamine to boost his biochemistry. He nearly did a little excited wiggle. But that would have been unprofessional. Instead he held out his hand for a proper handshake.

"Thank you very much. I am excited about the opportunities created by your company and would like to accept this provisional license."

He picked up the now-stamped forms. Those would be going to the secretaries to be copied in triplicate--one for him, two for filing away in the archive and the supplementary archival archive, no doubt.

Ah! He'd read it was good to ask questions of your future employer. It showed interest and made you stand out from the other applicants.

"What do you see as the biggest challenges currently facing your company?"

Mammut

 

[5-WCH (Switchblade)]

Mammut ​

The droid patiently waited in line carrying a small stack of papers.

It was the first time in a while that he had received an oil bath. Searching for new employment that one needed to look their best while also being capable of showcasing their skills. That is why he was here today. Once it was time, the droid approached the Chevin.

"Greetings. My droid designated title is 5-WCH, but I operate underneath the name 'Switchblade.' I have been in the profession of 'asset acquisition' for over a decade now. My services have been used by numerous other organizations, and I believe that the syndicate will be the best place for me to utilize my skillset."

The droid handed over his paperwork to the Chevin, giving him a few moments to read it over. Becoming a Black Sun sponsored hunter is not easy work, but he was determined to achieve that status.

 

[Mammut]

"What do you see as the biggest challenges currently facing your company?"

Mammut thought for a moment, rubbing the back of the stamp with a thumb.

At last he said, “Rival investors.”

Lips split again to reveal teeth like tombstones.

“Good luck in the training course, Diamond Dog . Unless you had other business…?”

* * *

Another figure approached the desk, this one appeared at first glance to be a protocol droid. Intriguing. The initial impression evaporated as Mammut read through the offered flimsiplast, flipping through page after page of exploits.

“Remarkable,” he grunted, “Truly remarkable.”

The Chevin seized the standard license stamp and slammed it down on the pile of paperwork.

“Approved! There will of course be… a minor processing fee. Please wire it to these details.” He handed the droid a card with the information for First Bank of Nar Shaddaa .

Mammut was pleased with his rigorous interviewing process.

5-WCH (Switchblade)

 

[5-WCH (Switchblade)]

Mammut ​

A digitalized smirk crept onto the droid's face.

The hunter took the processing information in his hand, connecting his processor to the nearest Darknet connection. From there he manually transferred the credits from his account to the syndicate bank.

"The credits have been transferred. I cannot wait to begin business with the Black Sun."

 

[Diamond Dog]

Rival investors and the competition they represented were something Diamond Dog understood quite well. In his time as a fugitive recovery specialist he'd had many run-ins with colleagues from other firms who pursued the same fugitive as he did. They usually posed a adverse risks to the capacity to deliver on key productivity indicators, like bringing in fugitives on time or with only a blast mark or two on them.

"No further questions. Thank you again for this great opportunity. I look forward to a productive future with you and your company, and will hapilly help in addressing the challenges that rival investors pose to the profit margins."

He turned around, happy to have been given the opportunity to prove himself, and ready to go find some rival investors to forcibly retire from the market. Proactivity was an important trait in an employee, and he intended to become known as a go-getter.

Mammut

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

Spoiler: Whottoomuzz Chantin Combat Loadout

Shyran Dol: Chantin Heirloom Armor

Melee Weapons

• MagnaGuard Electrostaff – Charged melee weapon effective against Force-users
• ZX Wrist Flamethrower – Cone of high-heat fire for crowd control
• Double-Bladed Vibrosword – Heavy melee weapon for cleaving and sweeping
• Lirka's Electrowhip

Ranged Weapons
• DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifle – Suppressive long-range firepower
• A280 Blaster Rifle – Armor-piercing rifle for general infantry use
• Ion Rifle – Disables electronics, droids, and shields

Heavy Weapons
• E-Web Heavy Repeating Blaster – Tripod-mounted anti-infantry cannon
• RPS-6 Rocket Launcher – Homing, high-yield warheads
• Personal Energy Shield – Wearable generator for temporary defense

Gadgets & Tools
• Life-Form Scanner – Detects biological entities through walls
• Scomp Link – Terminal hacking tool
• Jetpack – Short-range vertical mobility
• Stealth Field Generator – Temporary active camouflage
• Electro-Grappling Line – Tether that stuns and restrains

️ Deployables
• Probe Droid – Recon and support drone
• “Gonk Bomb” (Modified GNK Droid) – Walking explosive payload
• Portable Energy Shield Projector – Ground-deployed stationary defense field

Consumables
• Stimpack – Emergency healing injection
• Power Cells – Refuels weapons and gadgets
• Smoke Grenade – Obscures line of sight
• Ion Grenade – Disables droids and shields
• Thermal Detonator – Devastating high-yield explosive
• Fragmentation Grenade – Anti-personnel shrapnel blast

The double doors slammed open like a freight hauler had been tossed through them sideways.

Something massive squelched its way into the warehouse, shadow blotting out half the ceiling lights. A scent of ozone, unguents, and smoked nerf ribs followed in its wake.

WHOTTOOMUZZ THE HUTT had arrived.

He wore the Shyran Dol, his impossibly ornate baroque armor shimmering with engraved horror-vistas of battlefield excess. A shoulder-mounted blaster tracked lazily around the room like it was bored.
Whottoomuzz leaned forward, hydraulic repulsors whining beneath his weight.

"This is the Bounty Help Desk, yes?" he rumbled, his voice like a rancor gargling gravel in syrup. "I am here to dispute an error in the listings. There is a bounty. On me. I would like to speak to a manager."

He slapped down a stack of flimsiplasts at least four inches thick, bound in carbonite laminate and stamped repeatedly with COMPLAINT – URGENT in various fonts and languages. Each sheet bore one name in bold:

Jerec Asyr .

"I have never heard of this man," Whottoomuzz lied – he just hadn't heard from him in a long time. He continued, waving one bloated arm with injured dignity. "This must be a clerical mishap. Please resolve it immediately before more… freelancers get the wrong idea."

He peered at the desk sign.

His single remaining eye squinted. Slowly.

"...This says Application Help Desk."

"Chut Chut...Then I am early. Very well. I will wait here until the other desk is prepared."

The colossal Hutt clearly mistranslated something from basic as be swiveled in place slithered to the waiting area, and sat – crushing a folding chair into modern art beside the other applicants.

Realization was slow to dawn. Bounty Hunter Application help desk.

Application...

These were prospective bounty hunters. Or fresh–faced bounty hunters.

And Whottoomuzz currently had the largest bounty on an individual sentient in the galaxy. Surely in error...

The Hutt cleared his throat and began 'reading' off his own bounty listing aloud in feigned aggrieved disbelief.

"Hrrrm. 'Extremely dangerous. Do not engage directly. Reward doubled if proven dead.' This is flattery disguised as libel."

"Hrrrmmmm. 'Known to wear prototype armor of near-impenetrable design.' A compliment and a lie."

"Hmmmm. 'Do not approach without fire support or suicidal tendencies.' Who wrote this? My, er, his enemies or his biographers?"

He glanced at the nearest applicant.

"You. You look professional. If you see this 'Whottoomuzz' on your travels, tell him this nonsense has caused a great inconvenience."

Whottomuzz was a poor liar covered in Phrik.

Mammut @open​

 

[Mammut]

"You. You look professional. If you see this 'Whottoomuzz' on your travels, tell him this nonsense has caused a great inconvenience."

And Mammut happened to be somewhat more than a Chevin banker in nice clothes. Nobody's fool. He scratched at his shock of blonde hair, cut fashionably in the much praised "bowl" cut.

"Well well, is not this a surprise, the famoooous Whottoomuzz, Bane of Ruusan." Mammut grinned broadly at the disruption, enormous teeth on full display.

"Kill him."

Whottoomuzz Chantin | Diamond Dog | 5-WCH (Switchblade)

 

[Koda Fett]

"This one's mine," said the Mandalorian in the doorframe, a sudden gust of wind ensuring the side-cloak flowed.

He stalked the Hutt across the stars, which had not proved too difficult. There was no Hutt in existence that knew much of subtlety.

"Come, Whottoomuzz." His helmet flicked towards the outside, "Let's keep things professional."

Mammut Whottoomuzz Chantin Diamond Dog 5-WCH (Switchblade)

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

​

"Ah. So the old legends do still walk among us."

The Hutt did not turn immediately.
The atmosphere changed as history entered the building. Violence with a name.

Whottoomuzz exhaled slowly, as though releasing the weight of an age-long prophecy fulfilled.

He turned.

And beheld Koda Fett

"Koda Fett."

His voice dropped a register, dropping the act just moments prior. His massive armored form shifted as if to bow, then thought better of it.

"Your reputation precedes you."

He glanced down at his thick sheaf of complaint forms. Then let them slide to the floor like shedding skin.

"And here you are. Not for… customer service."

He laughed. Loud and slow, through his droid-piece jaw graft, under his helmet. His Shoulder-mounted blaster tracking toward the ceiling in a lazy arc.

With a hiss, Whottoomuzz tapped a rune on his armor. A shimmering personal shield bloomed into existence. Behind him, a modified GNK droid waddled out of a carrier and into position behind him, quietly beeping.

A probe droid rose behind him. Watching. Recording. Holostreams were going to love this.

**"Very well."
"Let us keep things professional."**

He moved, slowly motioning for Fett to lead the way. He Slithered toward the door. But his shoulder cannon never left Koda Fett’s silhouette.

Just before exiting the warehouse…

He turned back—toward the others waiting in line.

"The rest of you. Consider your careers carefully."

And then to Mammut—

"I think I found your Manager, I'll put in a good word for you."

Mammut Koda Fett
​

 

[5-WCH (Switchblade)]

Mammut | Diamond Dog | Koda Fett | Whottoomuzz Chantin ​

"Kill him."

"With pleasure."

The droid was not as professional as the Mandalorian. And he preferred it that way.

In a flash, Switchblade made a mad dash towards the Hutt. He did not care what the Holonet thought of him. The droid was a bounty hunter after all. This was his business. If he could get inside of that personal shield, then he would have a better shot of taking the crime lord down.

Electrostaff in hand, but not turned on, the droid got within meters of the Hutt, looking for an opportunity to strike.