Dominik Borra
Man In A Suit
Everyone's mother says that looking at bright screens in a dark room was bad for your eyesight. But Kingsley never knew his mother, so he missed that advice.
The golden-haired man sat back in his chair, keyboard interfaces at his fingertips as multiple screens showed bright white light. His glasses had a special filament on them, bending the light into actual images one could interpret as the holonet. Without it, the naked eye only perceived white. Never knew who might be watching or slip in while he was out. Sometimes physical security was better than cybersecurity.
Kingsley was a wirey fellow, aside from the tech surrounding him. He was thin but his muscles were tight and strong like whipcord. His hair hung to his ears, greasy from not being washed for several days. He had been too busy.
"Woohoo!" He shouted, throwing his hands into the air and rocking back more in his chair. "Another ten million credits, in the bag! Common thieves, eat your hearts out. I got all that just sitting in my chair. And I, am, cleaaarrr~" He congratulated himself before taking a long pull from a carbonated beverage nearby, then sat back to take a breather. Stealing credits from Denon's megacorporations wasn't an easy task to get away with. But here he was, ten million credits richer and without anything leading back to him.
"Still running the old game, I see." A voice said behind him. A familiar voice. It terrified him. He pulled his blaster from its holster next to his chair, turned and began to fire, laying on his chair. The blaster bolts illuminated his dark room, revealing his server racks and computer rigs in the soft blue light before they exploded into fire and sparks. But no one was there. He swallowed and licked his lips nervously.
A cold metal barrel pressed against the back of his head. Kingsley whirled with his years of training, catching the gun with one hand with the same motion he pointed his own gun and fired. Except his own gun was taken from him, and slammed into his head hard enough to see stars. He lost his grip on both guns. He blinked his eyes clear to see a woman leaning over him, pointing both his and her own gun at him. Then blood trickled into his right eye and he shut it. She had red hair and green eyes, and her muscle definition was obvious even through her jacket. His eyes widened and he slowly lifted his hands beside his head.
"You're slow, Kingsley. Always have been." She said, voice like warm cinnamon honey butter.
He swallowed. "Fast enough for those soldiers at the Titan base."
She rolled her eyes. "I meant slow in relation to the rest of us."
A heavy silence fell, neither of them speaking, for about a minute as they both gauged eachother. "Well, you haven't killed me yet." His heart still thumped in his ears. She hadn't moved the gun from him. "Which means you want me to hack something, right? What do you want, Ana?"
She smiled and got off the chair, holding his and her own weapon. "Not sure yet. I saw something recently and I want you to confirm it." She produced a small hologram projector. It projected a fuzzy blue image of a man mid-stride, holding a grenade launcher. He wore a nice suit and-...
"Is that...?"
"Dominion. Got some people out of a large Mandalorian genocide, I think he's still alive. Find him for me."
"Don't like how you two parted ways, huh?" He asked. He got the barrel of the blaster pushed against his forehead for that. His face grimaced as it dug into his skin. "How did you even live through that? I surely thought you would have died of potassium poisoning."
"Barely, that's how. And I still have a score to settle with him."
"You know that the scoreboard is long gone, Ana." He replied with only a small hint of pain in his voice. He was a veteran like her, it wasn't the first time he had a gun to his head. "Even if you kill him now, you don't move into first place."
"That's between him and I, Kingsley." She pulled the gun back. "Find him for me."
Dominik wasn't a splicer. Hacking computers and reading all the data wasn't his specialty. But there were some spy tricks he knew and knew how to do research, both on the ground and on the holonet. And after his ten years long hibernation in a bacta tank, he had missed out on a lot of information. So these days, when he had the time between Family jobs, he researched and cleaned his guns. Thing is about knowing spy tricks is that you can spot them when others use them.
It was on a job board, a place people posting 'Help Needed' signs and detailed the jobs. Mostly odd stuff. Painting, mechanic work, moving heavy loads, warehouse positions, the list goes on. But every now and then you got people looking for specific types of people, and one caught Dominik's eye.
"Talent search, Inner Rim: Lightweight bold wanted. No preference on size. Limited time offer. Standard compensation. Contact for delivery dates" And there was a holomail address. G38fK1nG67g980@####
A 'bold talent' meant a Force User, and 'Lightweight' indicated Lightside, or Jedi. And they weren't caring about age or species. 'Limited time offers' only lasted a couple of days. This was posted two days ago. He hadn't seen it appear, but he chalked that up to the holonet being what it was. And this wasn't asking for sneaky spy Jedi to do a job. The job was kidnapping, and Jedi were the cargo, hence the 'deliver date'. 'Standard compensation for this kind of job was somewhere in the million credit range but was up for negotiation.
It was a good way to subcontract the work of hunting down targets, as those on the streets would know where to find local targets, and incentivizes those who have a grudge with one to get rid of them and get a payday doing it. But everything, the words and the way it was set up. He knew it because he'd made one exactly like this, years ago when he was still with The Project. And the holonet address? It had the signature of The Project's splicer: K1nG. Agent King.
They weren't dead.
After helping one Sith he had gotten close to leave the Sith Assassins, Dominik was captured and interrogated. That ex-Sith coming back to save him was the reason Dominik only lost his eye and arm, and not his life. Dominik was officially out of The Project after that, and he had a few run-ins with them but, as he was the top-ranked agent in regards to proficiency in the field, he was able to get away from them. Then The One Sith, the ultimate government that ran the Sith Assassins and The Project, had been demolished. He hadn't heard from or seen the other agents since. Years passed and after his long nap, he didn't expect them to be around anymore. The kind of knowledge and training that could be turned against the Sith, in an organization that actively promoted violent competition going defunct? He figured they'd all be killed or hunted down. But they weren't, This job posting was a clear sign that they hadn't, or at least Agent King hadn't been. Or somehow The Project got resurrected with him in it. The Imperials were going to war with the Galactic Alliance, and The Maw was always antagonistic. Either one could be sponsoring this.
And he couldn't let it stand. Jedi weren't perfect, but they were the best bet this galaxy had for a brighter future. And he wasn't about to let something like The Project come back. Agent King knew more about the inner workings and programs better than anyone, having spliced into the Sith network multiple times. Someone like him to advise the new Project wouldn't be good.
Dominik finished cleaning his weapon before he began writing a message to the holonet address, saying that he had found some talent and would like to deliver. He soon received a reply with the location of a pay-to-use communication booth on Denon.
Dominik was kind of part of The Family now. He wasn't Made or anything, the part of him that was still a paranoid spy didn't want to get too entangled in another group that would leave him for dead or kill him themselves if it benefitted them. But it allowed him allies, allies with skills and abilities. Dedata was an expert splicer, rivaling what he knew of Agent King and what he could do, and she was one of those allies. But having her track down that holonet address would include her in this mess, and she wasn't much of a fighter. King probably had something that could trace her right back, and they would be ruthless to anybody who found King. There were a number of skilled fighters he could take with him but this wasn't their fight. They wouldn't know how to deal with these people, not like he did. He'd probably just get them killed. And maybe if he couldn't deal with his own baggage himself, Ivory wouldn't want him in her Family anyway.
So when he went to the hangar with every gun he could reasonably hold, he didn't tell anybody about it. There was one female who eyed him as he loaded up the ship, and he didn't eye her back. Unfortunately Ivory hires good people to watch her ships because the woman just stood there, watching him. He looked back to her and said, "Personal Business. You can tell Ivory that I'll be back soon if you want." The woman didn't say anything more, and walked off. Ivory probably wouldn't want him taking one of her ships on something so vague, so he hurried to lift off.
Some time later he was waiting infront of the paycomm booth. He had parked the ship in one of those smuggling pads that didn't have you register just around the corner. His hair wasn't combed neatly but spikey and dyed black. He wore his Armored Business Wear with the collars all popped and the buttons done up, letting the tails flare out at the end. At a local store he had picked up some makeup, people on Denon don't judge, and put on black eyeliner along with black lipstick. He had applied some shading and shadow to change where it looked his cheekbones were and smoothed out his chin. It wasn't his style at all, but the look worked well in one aspect. He looked nothing like himself. Dominik wasn't the best at applying makeup, but for these purposes, it would work just fine. He would have changed the clothes but these were the most protective ones he had, and the way he wore them gave credit to his edgy punk look.
Leaning up to a wall next to the paycomm, Dominik eyed anybody that walked by. He was there maybe five minutes before the phone rang. He walked up to it and jerked it off the handle as if he was impatient. He looked around, eyes squinted as he looked for their spotter. That's why he wore this disguise, for anybody watching for who arrived at the paycomm.
"About time, choom." He answered.
"The merchandise?" Asked a deeply modulated voice. He could be talking to Agent King himself, but the person on the other end of the line didn't seem to recognize his voice.
"Yeah I got 'em, two kids. Siblings."
"Good. Quarter million then."
"Quarter mill? More like three-quarter mill."
"Three hundred fifty thousand."
"I'm not selling you the girl for less than three hundred."
"Half a mill then. Children aren't worth as much as the adults."
"Done. Where do we make the exchange?"
"There's a warehouse we will use. Bring the cargo there."
Now Dominik knew enough about the business to know agreeing to that was the dumbest thing a person could do. They'd just shoot you and take what you have. But he wasn't planning on showing any merchandise at all. If there was someone specific he wanted to save or an asset he wanted to plant, sure. But this was an extermination.
"Fine with me, choom. Where?" Dominik asked.
There were a number of figures out front, and his scopes told him that they were droids. Old relics from bygone era's, primarily from the Clone Wars. The only reason he had to suspect that this warehouse was the location they were keeping the 'merchandise' was the fact that they didn't have a speeder or someway to carry the cargo. Really bad way to do business, he was going to wait out these guys and follow them back to their true quarters.
Dominik was at a disadvantage. He didn't know the internal layout of the building, and he had no idea how many innocent force users could be imprisoned inside or the amount of personnel guarding them. Trying to view the place from above with thermal scopes proved useless. They must be underground, a basement level of the warehouse. Which meant that bombarding the place was both a useless and stupid idea. And he didn't know where the entrance to that basement would be.
Explosives were out of the question. He laid down his DC-17m and it's components, leaving it behind. This would be a close-quarters fight, he didn't need a battlefield weapon. He took his FDS-15S Scattergun MagRifle, his DX-2 Disruptor, and a holdout blaster under his left sleeve.
He left the droids out front, maneuvering around the side to seek a side entrance. There was a cargo bay with its door off the ground just a few feet. He made sure his shadow wouldn't give his position away in case someone was watching and lowered himself down to peer inside. Nothing. He quietly scooted inside on his stomach, blaster in hand.
He could see more droids among the abandoned warehouse equipment, blasters in hand as they stood guard. They didn't chat or make noise, standing still as they walked or patrolled. Dominik kept to the shadows and crept.
No stairs. No trapdoors. No elevators. Where was the way below? He couldn't find anything around the perimeter, he'd have to check the middle. And that was where the majority of the patrols were. Made sense. He moved.
Something nudged him and red splattered on the machine infront of him. Immediately proceeding that was a clanging sound, like the metal workings of a simple machine echoed off the walls around him. Or a slug-thrower. He spun and fired his scattergun, metal projectiles magnetically propelled faster than sound to tear into anything they came into contact with. Metal from machines and walls and pipes sparked, illuminating empty air. Dominik continued his spin and began running, weaving between piles of materials and dead machinery. Sparks exploded from where slugs slammed home, barely missing Dominik.
He hadn't seen the shooter, but from when the bullets came at him and how the holes they left afterward looked, he had a pretty good idea of where they were. He spun from behind a pile of metal beams and fired his scattergun once, twice, thrice, filling the warehouse with the sounds of gunfire. He watched a figure, too shrouded by shadows to see clearly, up on a walkway wielding a rifle fall back with a cry. And when they did he got shot again, this time from behind. It hit him somewhere low and to his side. His left side was already becoming coated with blood, and now he had two holes in him.
The golden-haired man sat back in his chair, keyboard interfaces at his fingertips as multiple screens showed bright white light. His glasses had a special filament on them, bending the light into actual images one could interpret as the holonet. Without it, the naked eye only perceived white. Never knew who might be watching or slip in while he was out. Sometimes physical security was better than cybersecurity.
Kingsley was a wirey fellow, aside from the tech surrounding him. He was thin but his muscles were tight and strong like whipcord. His hair hung to his ears, greasy from not being washed for several days. He had been too busy.
"Woohoo!" He shouted, throwing his hands into the air and rocking back more in his chair. "Another ten million credits, in the bag! Common thieves, eat your hearts out. I got all that just sitting in my chair. And I, am, cleaaarrr~" He congratulated himself before taking a long pull from a carbonated beverage nearby, then sat back to take a breather. Stealing credits from Denon's megacorporations wasn't an easy task to get away with. But here he was, ten million credits richer and without anything leading back to him.
"Still running the old game, I see." A voice said behind him. A familiar voice. It terrified him. He pulled his blaster from its holster next to his chair, turned and began to fire, laying on his chair. The blaster bolts illuminated his dark room, revealing his server racks and computer rigs in the soft blue light before they exploded into fire and sparks. But no one was there. He swallowed and licked his lips nervously.
A cold metal barrel pressed against the back of his head. Kingsley whirled with his years of training, catching the gun with one hand with the same motion he pointed his own gun and fired. Except his own gun was taken from him, and slammed into his head hard enough to see stars. He lost his grip on both guns. He blinked his eyes clear to see a woman leaning over him, pointing both his and her own gun at him. Then blood trickled into his right eye and he shut it. She had red hair and green eyes, and her muscle definition was obvious even through her jacket. His eyes widened and he slowly lifted his hands beside his head.
"You're slow, Kingsley. Always have been." She said, voice like warm cinnamon honey butter.
He swallowed. "Fast enough for those soldiers at the Titan base."
She rolled her eyes. "I meant slow in relation to the rest of us."
A heavy silence fell, neither of them speaking, for about a minute as they both gauged eachother. "Well, you haven't killed me yet." His heart still thumped in his ears. She hadn't moved the gun from him. "Which means you want me to hack something, right? What do you want, Ana?"
She smiled and got off the chair, holding his and her own weapon. "Not sure yet. I saw something recently and I want you to confirm it." She produced a small hologram projector. It projected a fuzzy blue image of a man mid-stride, holding a grenade launcher. He wore a nice suit and-...
"Is that...?"
"Dominion. Got some people out of a large Mandalorian genocide, I think he's still alive. Find him for me."
"Don't like how you two parted ways, huh?" He asked. He got the barrel of the blaster pushed against his forehead for that. His face grimaced as it dug into his skin. "How did you even live through that? I surely thought you would have died of potassium poisoning."
"Barely, that's how. And I still have a score to settle with him."
"You know that the scoreboard is long gone, Ana." He replied with only a small hint of pain in his voice. He was a veteran like her, it wasn't the first time he had a gun to his head. "Even if you kill him now, you don't move into first place."
"That's between him and I, Kingsley." She pulled the gun back. "Find him for me."
Dominik wasn't a splicer. Hacking computers and reading all the data wasn't his specialty. But there were some spy tricks he knew and knew how to do research, both on the ground and on the holonet. And after his ten years long hibernation in a bacta tank, he had missed out on a lot of information. So these days, when he had the time between Family jobs, he researched and cleaned his guns. Thing is about knowing spy tricks is that you can spot them when others use them.
It was on a job board, a place people posting 'Help Needed' signs and detailed the jobs. Mostly odd stuff. Painting, mechanic work, moving heavy loads, warehouse positions, the list goes on. But every now and then you got people looking for specific types of people, and one caught Dominik's eye.
"Talent search, Inner Rim: Lightweight bold wanted. No preference on size. Limited time offer. Standard compensation. Contact for delivery dates" And there was a holomail address. G38fK1nG67g980@####
A 'bold talent' meant a Force User, and 'Lightweight' indicated Lightside, or Jedi. And they weren't caring about age or species. 'Limited time offers' only lasted a couple of days. This was posted two days ago. He hadn't seen it appear, but he chalked that up to the holonet being what it was. And this wasn't asking for sneaky spy Jedi to do a job. The job was kidnapping, and Jedi were the cargo, hence the 'deliver date'. 'Standard compensation for this kind of job was somewhere in the million credit range but was up for negotiation.
It was a good way to subcontract the work of hunting down targets, as those on the streets would know where to find local targets, and incentivizes those who have a grudge with one to get rid of them and get a payday doing it. But everything, the words and the way it was set up. He knew it because he'd made one exactly like this, years ago when he was still with The Project. And the holonet address? It had the signature of The Project's splicer: K1nG. Agent King.
They weren't dead.
After helping one Sith he had gotten close to leave the Sith Assassins, Dominik was captured and interrogated. That ex-Sith coming back to save him was the reason Dominik only lost his eye and arm, and not his life. Dominik was officially out of The Project after that, and he had a few run-ins with them but, as he was the top-ranked agent in regards to proficiency in the field, he was able to get away from them. Then The One Sith, the ultimate government that ran the Sith Assassins and The Project, had been demolished. He hadn't heard from or seen the other agents since. Years passed and after his long nap, he didn't expect them to be around anymore. The kind of knowledge and training that could be turned against the Sith, in an organization that actively promoted violent competition going defunct? He figured they'd all be killed or hunted down. But they weren't, This job posting was a clear sign that they hadn't, or at least Agent King hadn't been. Or somehow The Project got resurrected with him in it. The Imperials were going to war with the Galactic Alliance, and The Maw was always antagonistic. Either one could be sponsoring this.
And he couldn't let it stand. Jedi weren't perfect, but they were the best bet this galaxy had for a brighter future. And he wasn't about to let something like The Project come back. Agent King knew more about the inner workings and programs better than anyone, having spliced into the Sith network multiple times. Someone like him to advise the new Project wouldn't be good.
Dominik finished cleaning his weapon before he began writing a message to the holonet address, saying that he had found some talent and would like to deliver. He soon received a reply with the location of a pay-to-use communication booth on Denon.
Dominik was kind of part of The Family now. He wasn't Made or anything, the part of him that was still a paranoid spy didn't want to get too entangled in another group that would leave him for dead or kill him themselves if it benefitted them. But it allowed him allies, allies with skills and abilities. Dedata was an expert splicer, rivaling what he knew of Agent King and what he could do, and she was one of those allies. But having her track down that holonet address would include her in this mess, and she wasn't much of a fighter. King probably had something that could trace her right back, and they would be ruthless to anybody who found King. There were a number of skilled fighters he could take with him but this wasn't their fight. They wouldn't know how to deal with these people, not like he did. He'd probably just get them killed. And maybe if he couldn't deal with his own baggage himself, Ivory wouldn't want him in her Family anyway.
So when he went to the hangar with every gun he could reasonably hold, he didn't tell anybody about it. There was one female who eyed him as he loaded up the ship, and he didn't eye her back. Unfortunately Ivory hires good people to watch her ships because the woman just stood there, watching him. He looked back to her and said, "Personal Business. You can tell Ivory that I'll be back soon if you want." The woman didn't say anything more, and walked off. Ivory probably wouldn't want him taking one of her ships on something so vague, so he hurried to lift off.
Some time later he was waiting infront of the paycomm booth. He had parked the ship in one of those smuggling pads that didn't have you register just around the corner. His hair wasn't combed neatly but spikey and dyed black. He wore his Armored Business Wear with the collars all popped and the buttons done up, letting the tails flare out at the end. At a local store he had picked up some makeup, people on Denon don't judge, and put on black eyeliner along with black lipstick. He had applied some shading and shadow to change where it looked his cheekbones were and smoothed out his chin. It wasn't his style at all, but the look worked well in one aspect. He looked nothing like himself. Dominik wasn't the best at applying makeup, but for these purposes, it would work just fine. He would have changed the clothes but these were the most protective ones he had, and the way he wore them gave credit to his edgy punk look.
Leaning up to a wall next to the paycomm, Dominik eyed anybody that walked by. He was there maybe five minutes before the phone rang. He walked up to it and jerked it off the handle as if he was impatient. He looked around, eyes squinted as he looked for their spotter. That's why he wore this disguise, for anybody watching for who arrived at the paycomm.
"About time, choom." He answered.
"The merchandise?" Asked a deeply modulated voice. He could be talking to Agent King himself, but the person on the other end of the line didn't seem to recognize his voice.
"Yeah I got 'em, two kids. Siblings."
"Good. Quarter million then."
"Quarter mill? More like three-quarter mill."
"Three hundred fifty thousand."
"I'm not selling you the girl for less than three hundred."
"Half a mill then. Children aren't worth as much as the adults."
"Done. Where do we make the exchange?"
"There's a warehouse we will use. Bring the cargo there."
Now Dominik knew enough about the business to know agreeing to that was the dumbest thing a person could do. They'd just shoot you and take what you have. But he wasn't planning on showing any merchandise at all. If there was someone specific he wanted to save or an asset he wanted to plant, sure. But this was an extermination.
"Fine with me, choom. Where?" Dominik asked.
There were a number of figures out front, and his scopes told him that they were droids. Old relics from bygone era's, primarily from the Clone Wars. The only reason he had to suspect that this warehouse was the location they were keeping the 'merchandise' was the fact that they didn't have a speeder or someway to carry the cargo. Really bad way to do business, he was going to wait out these guys and follow them back to their true quarters.
Dominik was at a disadvantage. He didn't know the internal layout of the building, and he had no idea how many innocent force users could be imprisoned inside or the amount of personnel guarding them. Trying to view the place from above with thermal scopes proved useless. They must be underground, a basement level of the warehouse. Which meant that bombarding the place was both a useless and stupid idea. And he didn't know where the entrance to that basement would be.
Explosives were out of the question. He laid down his DC-17m and it's components, leaving it behind. This would be a close-quarters fight, he didn't need a battlefield weapon. He took his FDS-15S Scattergun MagRifle, his DX-2 Disruptor, and a holdout blaster under his left sleeve.
He left the droids out front, maneuvering around the side to seek a side entrance. There was a cargo bay with its door off the ground just a few feet. He made sure his shadow wouldn't give his position away in case someone was watching and lowered himself down to peer inside. Nothing. He quietly scooted inside on his stomach, blaster in hand.
He could see more droids among the abandoned warehouse equipment, blasters in hand as they stood guard. They didn't chat or make noise, standing still as they walked or patrolled. Dominik kept to the shadows and crept.
No stairs. No trapdoors. No elevators. Where was the way below? He couldn't find anything around the perimeter, he'd have to check the middle. And that was where the majority of the patrols were. Made sense. He moved.
Something nudged him and red splattered on the machine infront of him. Immediately proceeding that was a clanging sound, like the metal workings of a simple machine echoed off the walls around him. Or a slug-thrower. He spun and fired his scattergun, metal projectiles magnetically propelled faster than sound to tear into anything they came into contact with. Metal from machines and walls and pipes sparked, illuminating empty air. Dominik continued his spin and began running, weaving between piles of materials and dead machinery. Sparks exploded from where slugs slammed home, barely missing Dominik.
He hadn't seen the shooter, but from when the bullets came at him and how the holes they left afterward looked, he had a pretty good idea of where they were. He spun from behind a pile of metal beams and fired his scattergun once, twice, thrice, filling the warehouse with the sounds of gunfire. He watched a figure, too shrouded by shadows to see clearly, up on a walkway wielding a rifle fall back with a cry. And when they did he got shot again, this time from behind. It hit him somewhere low and to his side. His left side was already becoming coated with blood, and now he had two holes in him.
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