Private Dead, Buried, and Gone

[Argos of the East]

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Nar Shaadaa​

869ABY​

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The Club pounded and boomed with excitement - exotic aliens dancing on the stages as others sang and the band played. Center stage was Carlotta Nebula, a bad stage name for an amazing singer; and were it any other day, Argos would've loved to sit and listen to her droll out those synthetic voicebox blues. Today, however, wasn't one for enterntainment and merry making; the man had one of his contacts inform him of someone looking for high priority intel; and not just any, but the kind that would get you killed just for knowing about it.​

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Lucky for him, he supposed, he wasn't an easy man to be found if he didn't want to be; so the chances the Frumentarii or rumored assassins found him was slim. For him and his business, slim was the best chance you had at making a fat stack of credits - so he obliged the contact, let them know where to meet him, and sent them on their way. Either this was a honey pot, and they'd try and kill him, or it was real, and they'd pay out more than a bit for what he knew.​

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The location served for both - public enough that they wouldn't have a chance to do much with their special swords, and private enough so nobody could hear them. For all the joy he had from Carlotta's singing, the noise kept others from listening in - especially without a bug placed damn near in their throats. As he entered the private room, one of his underlings glanced back to him - a small device in his hand.​

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"Find anything?", Argos asked.​

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"Nothing, its clean."​

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"Good. Find her when she gets here, make sure she knows the password - and by the Chancellor's Drawers take her karking lightsaber."​

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Darth Mori​

 

[Vesta]

without a trace​

She could have been anyone, worn any face, any clothes, anything to fit in with the crowd that danced, drank, and smoked almost with the music that boomed from wall to wall. Avoid the cautionary glances, the whispers of amber and red eyes with every passing face, and met with the info broker without much trouble at all - but that would have been easy, simple, and it was the singular lesson she had drilled into her apprentice's head that the easiest way was oftentimes the worst to choose. So she didn't, her hair was worn up as she had taken to in recent weeks, a diadem set into her hairline to hold back the stray strands that loved to wander into her eyes and over her nose, and she strode up to meet the liaison between the info broker and she with every ounce of pompous air she could give - even if she was much more willing to get her own hands as dirty as the dregs to society that wandered the streets surrounding this trash chute.

"Lightsaber."

She peered down towards the man with a questioning look, as if daring him to ask a - "I said, lightsaber," he repeated, this time with a hand held out expectantly. 'Brave, if nothing else.' She thought, relinquishing her weapon with a roll of her eyes and impulsive shrug of her shoulders. "Password is ..." The man added as she dropped the weapon into some sort of box, which interestingly slipped it from her senses at nearly the same time. Clever. She nodded in response, unwilling to waste her breath with pleasantries when the reason she was even here was likely lounging somewhere far inside.

-

The moving throngs of people, the hedonism, all of it reminded her of a past she had wanted for herself - even the words sang out over the sound system running through the establishment touched at the frozen thing they called a heart in such a way only nostalgia could - but reality soon caught up with her when she reached Argos of the East and the momentary sensation dissipated nearly as quickly as it had snaked its way into her veins. The room was not spared from the draw of music that bled in from outside, but it was still considerably more removed from the scene than anywhere else she had noticed beyond it. "Horrible music." She said, lying as easily as she breathed. "You have reliable information, then?" She asked, flashing a ring that was snug against her ring finger, where one ought to have placed a wedding band that instead a part of her payment was waiting for his end of the bargain.

 

[Argos of the East]

"I have a bit of everything.", he replied as he poured two drinks and passed one to her. He didn't actually expect her to drink it - most Sith weren't the type, too hoity toity or professional for such things. In truth, he hoped she wouldn't - it'd give him an excuse to have another drink.​

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"If its reliable, is up to how much you're willing to pay.", he followed, sipping from his own. A type of Coruscanti Brandy; a relatively newer vintage. He didn't break out the good stuff for new buyers, afterall - especially ones yet unproven.​

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"Did you bring reliable creds?"​

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Darth Mori​

 

[Vesta]

She nodded, having expected the man to be quite a bit more interested in the credits rather than the trinket she'd offered up as an additional reward, and lifted a hand like she was pulling up on the handle of a bag or briefcase or something similar - smoke swirling out and down from her wrists while the bag she'd kept the credit chips in manifested from within it as it began to clear. "Enough to buy you a few freighters, more if I'm terribly impressed with your information." She said.

With a flick of her wrist she tossed the bag onto the table between them, beside the drinks, as she leaned forwards to take the one offered to her in hand. "Check them if you want, each chip is filled to capacity." Vesta said with a smug grin, taking a sip from the drink without a hint of reaction to the burn of alcohol as it made its way down her throat. "So, what do you have for me? Names, any locations?" She asked.

"Anything big?"

Argos of the East

 

[Argos of the East]

Argos couldn't help but hold a slight look of contempt as she drank from what he had already silently claimed as his own drink. It faded, however, as he raised his prosethtic metal arm motioning with two fingers towards the bag she had put on the table. A protocal droid waddled over amidst their conversation, and quietly began to whir as it not only counted the creds, but insured each chip was authentic and non traceable. With each confirmation, it would beep something low - then continue on its work.​

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Leaning back, the information broker offered her a smile as he brought a cigarette to his mouth - lighting it with a classic butane torch not often seen in use anymore. He had a thing for classics, but what he had a thing for even more was creds; something she had paid her fair share of already. Argos wasn't much attracted to the force user type - but he was attracted to deep pockets, so she suddenly seemed to become all the more interesting to him.​

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"As good as information is ever going to get on those types.", he offered back to her, resting the lighter back on the table before bringing both hands to support his head from the back.​

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"Word is one of the old associates of that big robe wearing freak is on Barbatos. Keeps making regular trips there, about one a month for a few days - though why isn't known. Has dealings with major crime syndicates there, some of the local corporations, any honey pot he could put his finger in he seems to have it there. Goes by Darth Empyrean - big name to some of those types, maybe you've heard of him, maybe you haven't; but considering how often they were spotted around big names like Carnifex can only mean they are your lead on what those spooky nerf herders are up to."​

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He reached into his pocket, pulled out a datapad, and tossed it to her.​

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"On that is his usual hangouts. 33rd floor of the Exbo Technologies building - has regular meetings with a certain Vos Ko. Vice President of the mining company. Spends some time on the private club on the 10th level Second Breach - known as 'Second Breach'. Creative name, I know, but its run by the Trihegelian Syndicate, one of the leading shock boxing racketeers - likely has a hand speaking to Jimmy Fo; I've met him a few times. Extra squirrly, so be wary of him. Last, he has a residence in the Nuelon Heights area on the edge of the city; deep in the hills. If you're looking for a good place to speak to them - might be there, but I don't know what he's got for security or backup. Your creds didn't pay for a recon mission."​

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"I'd normally say for a few extra creds I'd give you the lowdown on this guy, but I'll be frank - Dude's a fucking ghost. Besides his 'Darth' name, can't find even so much as his real name; let alone where he comes from, where he's been, or who he's talking to. Most I have is he's been known to frequent the pants of one Srina Talon - and past that, nothing at all. Don't think I need to tell you this, but be careful around his type - someone who doesn't have much information on them usually means they tend to kill anyone who finds out too much. Dangerous folk and all that."​

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"Anything else, honey?"​

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Darth Mori​