"I have a bad feeling about this.." Kara grumbled for the dozenth time. She had been complaining about the details of this meet since they entered Coruscant's atmosphere. Pylon had grown tired of hearing the same, repetitive phrase, but mostly kept his mouth shut. He couldn't really blame her, he supposed. To Kara, being born and raised as a Mando, she had always been taught by Deccan that Jedi were more or less the enemy. To her, entering Coruscant was always like going behind enemy lines, no matter how many times they frequented the busy city planet.
"You know, ner darasuum, you missed your calling. You should have been a Jedi with that level of foresight." He teased dryly, knowing the very idea of her abandoning her Beskar'gam for the drab, boring, conservative robes would be enough to get a scowl out of her.
As they made their way down the dark, seedy sidewalk, helmets donned, full weapon loadouts equipped, the gazing eyes and gawking jaws seemed to be a thing of the past. When normally seeing two Mandalorians in full battle armor and armed to the teeth would cause a silent scream to echo through the streets. Yet, aside from the few petty level bounty-heads who knew better then to cross the path of the Galaxies greatest bounty hunters, no one seemed to pay the duo any mind.
That was one of the beauties of Coruscant that he actually missed-- the anonymity of being just another face in an ocean of unique species. Here, on the planet of city lights, two bounty hunters were just that--two bounty hunters out of thousands. He supposed that down here, in the lower levels of the city, where the scum and filth of the galaxy trickled down like rain water into the gutters, even the hardened, notorious reputation of the Mandalorians were nothing but blip on the radar of dangers.
Which was probably exactly why their target chose this as her base of operations.
While Ahtemis didn't have a blood-soaked reputation that extended to the outer reaches of the Galaxy yet, Pylon was more then a little familiar with the female crime boss; who's unpredictable tendencies and level of clever, conniving business tactics were matched only by the tales of her dangerous beauty. They had heard first hand accounts from other bounty hunters or criminals who had worked for her in the past about both Ahtemis' overwhelming beauty and infinite resources making her the most dangerous woman on Coruscant.
Kara would probably have something to say about that, he mused.
They had been contacted through their usual black-forum channels, the only real way to hire a bounty hunter if you wanted to remain anonymous. The message said little to nothing about the target, leaving the Mandalorian couple to do their own research on the Crime Lord. All it had was promise for a ridiculous amount of credits, a time and a place-- The newest, most infamous nightclub on Coruscant, the Blackstone.
After that, it was just a matter of finding a registry of the employees, slicing into their bank accounts, and selecting one to offer an exuberant amount of credits to let Pylon and Kara in through the front door. The lucky individual they landed on, was a young woman named Quinn Glasow.
"This could be a trap. We haven't exactly made a lot of friends in the Galaxy, and we know that Quinn isn't the most straight forward of waitresses. What if she's only pretending to turn in Ahtemis, and we're really walking face first into an E-Web or something?!" She continued to protest from inside their helmet's comlinks, completely silent on the outside.
Pylon simply pursed his lips to one side of his face, clearly growing tired of his wife's stale protests. He simply waived his hand dismissively, shaking his head softly. "Ahtemis could be a psychopath, but she's a businesswoman first and foremost. If this waitress bothered to get a hold of us and drag us all the way to Coruscant, it's because we can be useful to her. Say what you want about Quinn, but she thinks long term. Besides, if Ahtemis wanted to--or even could-- kill us, she wouldn't have us in her own club. Two ticked off bounty hunters cutting and shooting up her establishment is bad for business. She's supposed to be busy with some meeting, and has no idea we're coming" He explained calmly. Kara opened her mouth as if to argue his point, before catching herself, apparently agreeing with his logic.
As the flashing neon lights of the Blackstone's entrance came into view, Pylon's cybernetic eye began scanning for threats, instantly locking on the large Nagai bouncer standing guard at the door. No sooner did he notice the burly pale humanoid did the Bouncer take note of the approaching bounty hunters, eyeing their respective sword and sniper rifle cautiously.
Pylon tilted his head down, aiming the cross of his T-shaped visor directly at the ground in front of him. He could already feel the Nagai tensing his muscles, puffing his chest out in an ineffective display of masculinity in attempt to make his colossal body dwarf Pylon's small, short frame even more. It wouldn't do him much good, but still, intimidating to the average man.
As Pylon marched towards the threshold of the club, he collided against the doorman's suddenly outstretched arm, ramming into his chest. The second the man's colorless, muscled arm touched the Mandalorian's gleaming,stainless ultrachrome armor, Pylon's head snapped up, his visor meeting the bouncer's eyes with a stare that even through his helmet sent a chill running up his spine. Kara had already started reaching for one of the twin Verpine Scatter pistols on either side of her breasts, ready to unload an entire clip of shrapnel and pellets in the goon's face.
Despite her obvious movements, the Negai never took his eyes off Pylon, doing his best to remain stoic and unthreatened by the young Mandalorian.
"Can't let you take weapons inside. Give 'em over, bounty hunter." He grunted, nodding his head to their back straps. Pylon cocked his head to the side, as if trying to analyze if the man was truly serious. He turned his neck slightly to examine Kara in his peripheral vision, who returned the stare with her own, soft shake of her head. Returning his attention back to the guard, Pylon chuckled a bit before raising his chin at him.
"Not on your life....And if you put a hand on me again, you're not gonna get it back. Ne shab'rud'ni...." He hissed softly. The Negai growled in response, straightening himself up to tower over Pylon. The brute motioned for two other guards to back him up, both bigger than the last.
Just as the conflict was rising to a head, all five combatants stood down at the sound of a voice screeching over the music. "The boss has sent me to retrieve them. Let them through," said a woman, muscling her way past the three guards. She wore a tight, black cocktail dress, constricting her body past the point of comfort to accentuate her figure. Pylon wondered how she was even able to breathe in such a restricting outfit.
The guards grunted in apparent disappointment, letting the woman through to the bounty hunters. Kara gave her a quick glance up and down before shrugging slightly and walking up to stand next to her husband's side. The woman gave them both a small nod of acknowledgment before introducing herself,
"My name's Quinn and if you don't mind I'll be the one taking you to The Donna. Follow me and please try not to get into anymore trouble between now and the lift."
Pylon and Kara exchanged another silent look from inside their helmets, both of them grinning ear to ear. Kara was the first to speak up, walking forward past the guards before turning around to Quinn. "We'll try. No promises though. We have a bad habit of killing over sized, overconfident doormen." She smirked, allowing their hostess to lead the way.
As she walked towards the lift to the upper floors, both Pylon and Kara stared hypnotically at the woman's rear, clearly equally interested in the effects of tight leather.
"I should get a dress like that. Show off my shebs." She mused as they walked into the elevator, both of them leaning their backs against the transprasteel box. Their conversation was kept private inside their helmets, allowing them to speak freely while Quinn was kept none the wiser.
Pylon simply shrugged in response before quipping in with "You would rather buy a new, overpriced exotic weapon. When would you ever use a dress like that?"
"Every night, if you're lucky. Every girl should have at least one sexy dress. What, you wouldn't like me in it?"
"I didn't say that. I just don't understand the practicality of a dress like that. It looks too restricting--too uncomfortable." He dismissed quickly, paying little attention to Quinn now.
"It's not supposed to be comfortable, it's supposed to look good. It's not for fighting, it's for fun, di'kut!" she sneered, walking over to him now, hooking a finger on the inside of his belt, tugging at his kama. He smiled, leaning his helmet down to touch hers, making an audible click as their armors crashed together. A traditional, Mandalorian kiss. It was the easiest way to show affection in armor, even if it did resemble a headbutt to outsiders.
"Who says you can't have fun while fighting? We usually do.." he grinned, their conversation interrupted by the soft pinging of the elevator's doors cracking open. As Quinn lead them out, Kara followed with Pylon trailing behind. As she walked in front of him, he stared down at her, watching her walk with the same interest as he had with Quinn. "Besides," he purred, letting Kara know exactly where he was looking, "I like your shebs in armor."
As they walked towards the private upper balcony of the club, Pylon quickly activated its macro-binocular system in his visor with two quick blinks. His vision zoomed in across the space that separated them from a black clad, dark haired woman and a mysterious dark cloaked man sitting at a table. Even from here, Pylon could feel the taint of the Dark Side on the man...Likely a Sith, he reckoned.
The woman was almost assuredly their target, judging by the seclusion, and the growing fear on their escort's face. Pylon and Kara exchanged silent looks in their helmets, before finally speaking aloud to Quinn. "You should go ahead and get out of here, honey. We're about to go introduce ourselves, in a very unfriendly way." Kara told her, placing a gentle, armored hand on the woman's shoulder before guiding her back to the elevator.
Once removed, Pylon leaned against a wall, hidden in shadow looking around his environment to formulate a plan. The upper balcony created a semi circle overlooking the dance floor, some 10 to 15 meters across. However the pair of bounty hunters planned on getting close enough to the Donna, they would have to walk right up to her and hope she, or her Dark Side companion, didn't notice. Not their best option.
Kara nudged her husband in his rib to break his concentration. "What are you thinking? Go up to her and ask her to dance?" She teased, trying to see what he was thinking.
Pylon grinned widely in his helmet before taking a small, cylindrical canister off of his belt, rolling it back and forth in his palm. Kara looked up quickly at him, before tilting her head inquisitively. "In here? At close range?" She protested, clearly realizing what he intended to do.
He simply shrugged before pulling the small ringed pin at the top of the canister, holding down the spoon along the side. "It's one hell of a way to break the ice, don't you think?" He mused curtly as he pushed past her, holding his hands behind his back as he calmly and slowly towards the back table.
While he certainly stood out with his silver, mirrored plates reflecting multicolored lights, and large, hard metal sheath strapped to his back by a long strip of leather across his chest, and lined with half a dozen knives, he hoped his ability to suppress his Force signature and general presence would give him the element of surprise.
Once close enough to surely be seen by Ahtemis, Pylon brought his free hand across his body, giving her a cordial, proper bow. "Lady Ahtemis, I presume? May I have this dance?" He spoke audibly, the voice modulator in his helmet amplifying his words loud enough to be heard over the pumping club music. Before either her or her companion could reply though, Pylon brought his other hand forward, revealing what he held clutched in his hand -- a flashbang grenade.
With a gentle toss onto the table between the pair, Pylon quickly blinked four times, shutting off his helmet's Heads Up Display, dropping the blast shield over the T-shaped visor in preparation for the blinding flash of light and deafening 'pop' of the explosion.
Pylon was right.
Being able to stand unphased by a point blank flashbang explosion did have the ability to make quite a lasting impression.