Business as Usual

[Darth Abyss]

Nar Shaddaa, Bar - Above the Slums

Power on Nar Shaddaa was not a constant but a fragile, ever shifting series that rose and fell as certainly as the tides. In his absence Abyss organisation had lost some turf, but also gained new influence elsewhere. Money vanished only to be doubled days later. All in all his followers had done well without him, but his interference with day to day business had already been marginal before his leave. The only strong disadvantage that had come up due to his absence was the lack of highly capable individuals for the more complex, dangerous operations of his Chorus, as most of the freelancers in his service had moved on during the time of silence.

Now it was time to fill up these holes in his endless network of slicers, bounty hunters, mercenaries and everything above and in between. Today his men had arranged a meeting with a certain [member="Lancer Damar"], known by reputation to be a deadly hitman and talented inflator. Rumors also suggested that he was a son of the One Sith empire, alike Abyss and his Tainted Chorus.

The strange sith lord rested in the backroom of a more than shady bar, the large window offering a view down onto a slum currently under Abyss control. His body was entirely composed out of metal, a hollow armor forged by eldritch alchemy, kept together by dark magic and a hungering spirit locked inside. The twisted, deformed shape of the husk was shrouded below a ragged black robe as well as various dirty grey and black rags wrapped around the exposed ends of his limps. His hand and feet mirrored claws, wretched talons made for the sole purpose of ripping apart flesh and bones.

His version of a face was a tribal, wooden mask paired with a fixed grin, a terrible visage of eternal mockery. Locked between the sharp metal teeth sat a pipe shaped like a dragon's head. From it, and his empty eyes, thin smoke danced through the room while he awaited the arrival of his potential new employee, filling the air with a heavy scent and a touch of uncanny, arcane energy. On the table in front of him rested a ridiculously expensive bottle of whisky and a single glass, a litte opening gift to start of the meeting. Both his twisted appearance and the show of wealth made one thing clear: Darth Abyss, known among the underworld as the Prophet, knew that reputation and appearance were the real key to the game of crime.

 

[Lancer Damar]

The slums. He would never understand how criminals continued to operate in these environments without improving them. He knew how much money was going through these places. It wouldn't hurt to hire someone to sweep up the street with all that money- but he figured they were more interested in flashy jewelry and expensive clothes than something as simple as cleanliness. Lancer rolled his shoulders as he was approached by two men. One motioned for his arms to go out. He was patted down rather hastily, before he made his way into the bar. They took his handgun from him, but Lancer had the air of an assassin, just by the way he walked- it was obvious that the handgun wouldn't do much good if he really wanted someone dead.

Lancer was gestured to the seat, where [member="Darth Abyss"] was seated in his creepy way. Lancer never really liked the Sith, the One Sith just offered him good employment and trained him well. Not that anyone would ever know that- or could prove it, at least. All the records, wiped clean when the One Sith went away. Unless someone found a datahub of his unit, or a record of the spook-types from the OS, his identity was iron-clad safe from anyone who wanted to know more.

He took a seat, and poured himself a drink, as was custom with parties in which a bottle of whiskey was involved. He set his glass down before speaking. He spoke in a gravelly voice, a fault of his cigarette addiction.

"So, here we are. I assume I'm about to hear an offer."

 

[Darth Abyss]

"You assume right."

The distorted voice of the creature was clearly not that of a man. His metal jaw remained locked in place, while the words simply formed out of the air around him, framed by an otherworldly whisper that seemed to have no point of origin. While he allowed the strange noise to fade, his sharp teeth opened up and his right claw removed the pipe from between them. With a wave of his left he called one of his servants, who in response began to fill the small object with tabacco. Once it was done the servant offered it to [member="Lancer Damar"], the head of the pipe lighting up by itself with nothing more than a slight twist of Abyss right hand.

"The ranks within my organisation have grown a little too thin for my taste. My contacts informed me that you have reputation for getting the job done, and in my current situation I have much use for someone like that."

Again he raised his left to call his servant, this time to bring them a datapad. On it was a list composed of an assortment of various positions within Abyss organisation that were currently left open. The range was wide, spanning from hitman and infiltrator to a personal security expert to oversee numerous operations all across the galaxy. Each job description was almost ridiculously sparse on details, as it was commonplace among the dealings of the underworld.

"I like to have my employees chose their own contracts, to make sure their abilities are put to optimal use. Tell me, Mr. Damar in what line of work would like to see yourself in ten years?"

 

[Lancer Damar]

Lancer didn't do pipe tobacco. He politely waved his hand and pulled out his own cigarette. Cigarettes and whiskey. Not a bad employer so far. He leaned back in the chair, taking a drag and narrowing his eyes in response to the man's statement, and then to his question. Ten years was a long time in his line of work. A long, long time. He was brought over an ashtray and tapped it his cigarette into it before speaking again.

"Retired and well-off, and left alone."

[member="Darth Abyss"] didn't deserve any lies or subterfuge. Lancer was going to be uniquely honest with him.

"Right now, though- I am currently the leading expert on anything on Nar Shaddaa, and to a lesser extent, Hutt Space as a whole. Information, assassination, infiltration- I can do it all. But assassination has been my main MO for quite some time now."

Lancer took a moment to stare out the window, before settling back on the Sith before him.

"I don't know much about you. But I assume this isn't a sinking ship I'm boarding, correct?"

 

[Darth Abyss]

When [member="Lancer Damar"] spoke of his retirement, a odd sound emerged from between the sith lords metal teeth. This twisted chuckle, created when metal scrapped over metal, was barely comprehensible as a sign of amusement, if it weren't for the slight movement of his head that was almost reminiscent of a human laughing.

"I am not going to lie that my current situation is not a temporary setback born from a series of misfortunes. Yet it is not the first, and most likely not the last time, that my organization has to retreat and regroup in such a fashion, and as before it will rise again. Even in its current state my Chorus is still influential and lucrative enough to meet your desires, Mr. Lamar."

The husk reached for the datapad, calling up another list he had prepared before handing it to his guest. Retirement plans were something few in this line of work had, but rather because most people had little hope to make it so far, not because they had no need for them. Inside the Chorus things were handled differently, and a handful of his most skilled agents had left his service to settle down, with both his philosophical and finical blessing. Besides credits many had asked for save refugee for them and their loved ones, and Abyss had granted them their wish, but that was a luxury that only came with years of dedicated service.

"There is always use for a skilled assassin within my ranks. I myself began my career as one, so I know that a dagger in the shadows can be worth more than an entire army."

Abyss reached for the pipe once more, removing the tobacco and replacing it with an odd looking plant material. The Korriban incense wasn't meant to be smoked, at least not by men. For a being that mostly consisted of force energy on the other hand it was one of the few things to calm his nerves.

"I assume you have some questions about me and my organization. Feel free to ask them, and I will see how much I can reveal to you at this point. Another thing you should consider is your payment. I do not only like my employees picking their own assignments, but their price as well. Credits are from all that I can offer. My hand can open doors into many places, ranging from the high society down to the realm of the dead."

 

[Lancer Damar]

Cost about the same, too.

Lancer's eyes went over the datapad and the information it presented, skimming over it. He'd go over it in depth later, but the first meeting wasn't the time to fine-tooth comb the details. Lancer flicked his eyes up, intently listening to [member="Darth Abyss"] as he spoke, and...as he smoked. Whatever it was that he was smoking. He knew it wasn't tobacco, but he couldn't place what it was. Probably had more of a kick than most of what was on the market.

"I don't want to know, and I don't ask questions. You don't ask about me, I don't ask about you and your goals. I am a tool in your toolbox."

He set the datapad down and leaned forward.

"Other than that... I'll take payment in equal credit value goods. Metals, fuels, something I can sell off-hand. Keeps my profile low. I don't have much, if any of a digital footprint, and physical currency helps me stay anonymous in an increasingly....connected galaxy. I'm sure you can understand."

Lancer tapped his hand on the table.

"Other than that, I have nothing else. I'm in, sir."

 

[Darth Abyss]

"No questions asked, and none answered. You will fit in quite well Mr. Lamar."

Again an unholy chuckle emerged from between Abyss metal teeth, as the sith lord watched the man before him up and down. Most people couldn't resist to ask what by the force name he even was, and some more bold individuals even inquired to know why a creature like him spend his time playing the game of the underworld instead of commanding crude monstrosities to fight for the sith.

"Very well, welcome to the Tainted Chorus. Besides the options for your coming assignments there are also ways to contact in your hands now. Reach out to me once you worked out your desired details, if I do not reach to you beforehand."

The husk extended a deformed claw, offering a handshake to [member="Lancer Damar"] to make their arrangement official. He could already see that the man had the potential to become one of his most effective weapons.

 

[Lancer Damar]

Currently, there were only a few people in the galaxy that knew Lancer's real name. [member="Darth Abyss"] was one of them- just for the simple fact that Lancer let him. After all, they both had secrets, and despite what everyone thought and everyone believed, a mutual degree of trust was required by the parties involved. The Sith Lord and the assassin, had to have that trust. Lancer let his name slip for that simple fact. Not that it would turn up anything, because Lancer Damar- didn't exist anymore. The One Sith held the only documents to his name, and the outer rim was not too good with birth records, not too good with anything really. An extremely inquisitive, and perhaps well-educated, and well-focused, and well-tipped person could perhaps find a sideshow act in a circus featuring a one Lancer Damar.

But other than that, it was just a name. No access to One Sith records, no name, no identity. No prints on record. No DNA on record. Lancer was a ghost. Perfect for what the Sith Lord wanted and needed.

He shook the man's....claw. Hand. What passed for a hand.

"I look forward to working with you, sir. Contact me when you need me."

And with that, Lancer stood up to leave- and was quite happy with how it all turned out.