Dead to Rights [Ask to join]

[Miss Blonde]

Money. The lifeblood of the galaxy. Whether it was credits or gold, cash ruled everything. It was the be all end all of personal status, because if you had money then you had power. But money was a fickle as the people who hoarded it, because once you had it in droves it owned you. It consumed you in its necessity to maintain control, and once it was gone you were nothing. So all praise be and all hail the mighty credit chip. Hallelujah for we have money, may it never leave us. But that's just what it did for us, it left.

Syndicate was hemorrhaging money, and Blonde had to keep everything under wraps to keep their enemies from finding out. Ever since the Silver Jedi had taken out their main source of income on Kessel, Syndicate had trouble keeping the organization afloat through operations with varying success. Sure some jobs went well, the sacking of Voss for example. But others had gone terribly wrong. Alexandria and Christophsis had bled Syndicate hard along with the fighting with the Remnant, and even pulling money from legitimate businesses had barely kept them from going into the red. So now they faced a desperate situation, and Kessel was the only option to get things back into the black.

There was just one problem. They couldn't afford to launch operations on the planet, and they certainly couldn't pay a mercenary band to do the job for them. They needed to reclaim the spice mines in secret and they needed to do it now for cheap. But who could take on such a task?

One name rang out to Syndicate, a bounty hunter and warrior who seemed to be the perfect candidate for the job. A man who was a freight train of sheer willpower and death.

"Sal Katarn? Never heard of him." A man with bright orange hair slapped a holo-file down on a very expensive looking desk.

A small slender hand took the file and plugged it into a projector to display an image of [member="Sal Katarn"] decked out in full armor. It was a simple bounty hunter profile pulled off the dark net and listed basic information along side the image.

"Well you should have, he's not one to be taken lightly." A feminine robotic laced voice spoke from behind the desk in a tone that was less than amused.

"Why is that? He looks pretty normal to me. Hell, he even looks a little over the hill." The orange haired man commented then casually pulled a cigarette from his coat, lighting it then taking a drag.

"Katarn was once shot three times with a blaster-" The voice spoke and then was swiftly interrupted.

"Whoopty freaking doo, we've all been shot before." The orange haired man chuckled then took another long drag from his coffin nail.

"And then he killed his attackers with a bird. A karking bird." There was a small moment of silence between the two.

"Oh..." A piece of ash fell from the cigarette and onto the expensive carpet whilst he blew smoke into the dimly light air.

"Yeah." The robotic voice responded plainly.

"Who the kark does that?" The cigarette in the man's hand shook a little as he slowly moved his hand over towards the ashtray to stamp out the smoke.

"So he's the one, and he's gonna do what we say free of charge. And do you know why that is?" The voice behind the desk asked the man who seemed to be still putting out the clearly crushed cigarette.

The man simply shook his head quietly in response. As the gangster stepped back a little his gaze fell upon the crime lord Miss Blonde behind her desk with her fingers tented rather menacingly.

"Because we're gonna take his precious little bird." And just like that, it was on.

72 Hours Later

It was any other morning at Sal's dwelling. Well, normal except for one thing. His place had been tossed and blood was coating the walls like a piece of modern art, it looked like a blood soaked hurricane had run through his place. It was all very traumatic, and at the center of that trauma Sal would be able to sense that his Shrike was gone. So when he got home, a message would begin to play for him. One of devious and vile intent.

The holo player would project an image of a small petite woman in a gas mask and black business suit holding a leathery winged bird of prey who had multiple restraints placed on its talons, beak, and wings. And in the woman's hand there was some kind of small black rectangle.

"Hello, Sal." There was a clicking noise and from the rectangle protruded a gleaming metallic blade.

"I hope I have your attention now. Your bird was quite the hassle to capture, killed three of my men. So it's safe to assume I'm a little on edge right now, and my hand might slip a little." Blonde's hand pressed towards the bird, the tip of the knife pressed against its throat as it struggled.

"Now, let's get down to business. My organization is looking to expand back into Kessel since the sudden closure the Silver Jedi brought to the Spice Mines. Unfortunate I know, but thems the breaks right?" Blonde chuckled then pressed the tip of the blade a bit further to indent the bird's skin under its fine point without drawing blood. Her demeanor shifted to one of deadly intent.

"Now if you want to see your little leathery winged friend here again, you'll do exactly what I say to the letter. If you do that then we're not going to have any problems. So here's what you're going to do. You will go to Kessel and in the Southern Hemisphere you check into the Sanctuary Rose Hotel, from there you will be given more instructions on what to do. Fail to follow my orders will result in the gruesome and untimely death of your friend here. I've been calling him Squawkles." Blonde pulled the knife away from the bird's neck and tapped it against the top of the Shrike's head.

"Isn't that right Squawkles." Blonde said as if she were talking to a baby, to which the bird replied with a muffled shriek.

"Anyways. Do as I say and the bird lives. You have twenty four hours to make it to Kessel. I'd wish you luck, but you know. Kind of holding your bird hostage and forcing you to bend to my will. So ciao." The message ended and Sal was now free to get to work. He needed to get to Kessel.

Spoiler

[member="HK-36"] (would love you as our antagonist) [member="James Justice"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] @Drough (I'll pm you about finding a role) [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] (Thanks for being cool with this, you're more than welcome to join. If you want to stop us or anything of the sort feel free to PM me and we'll work everything out)

 

[Sal Katarn]

Pain at the knife tickling his neck.

No, that was Ka.

Anger. Yeah. That was his. A sort of black, acidic vitriol bubbling up to through the cracks. Spent so long not caring, he had forgotten what it meant to hate.

He stared at the masked figure, watching the recording without a word. They didn't have words to describe this sort of rage. The sort you get when a fella takes your bird. Not just any bird, one that'd been through life and death with him. Some might say his only friend. Only one that stuck around leastways. And now this gal looked like she was fixin' to turn Ka into supper. Jogged his memory a bit on the virtues of hate.

The terror and aimless fury made it hard to think. That was Ka.

Sal glared at the recording as it drew to a close. He leaned back and looked around the blood spattered room.

Least you took a few with you... should've gotten out of the game when I could.

The nightmare of other people controlling his actions was one he hoped to never relive again. Turns out, nobody listened upstairs.

Katarn grimaced and got to his feet. It took him less than two minutes to grab everything he needed from the apartment. Sal shrugged on a worn, black poncho, then picked up a gun case and left without a backward glance. They had a job for him, and he could pretty much already guess the sort of work they had in mind.

The only kind I'm any good at.

* * *

The Outremer touched down on Kessel without issue. The ship was registered with the Guild. Most governments recognized licensed hunters. Couldn't bother to hunt down every criminal themselves. Besides, hunters made a nice third party to heap blame on if and when things went sideways.

Katarn waltzed from the docking bay right up to the hotel. The receptionist eyed him skeptically. Sal caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of some glass. Wiry man in tattered clothes with long greasy locks of hair and a flat, green stare? Guy probably wondered why some vagrant was trackin' mud through the foyer.

"Need a room," he rasped in a voice that sounded like someone had taken sandpaper to his vocal chords.

"Do you have a reservation?"

"No."

"Is this business or pleasure?"

"Business."

"Oh, are you with the mining guild conference?"

Sal stared.

"Uhm. Right. Let's see, I'm afraid we are all booked up at the moment, but if you return tomorrow I am sure we can ar-"

The stack of credits made a surprisingly loud click as Sal slapped them on the desk.

"I need one today."

Some people when they see things they think ain't real tended to get bug eyes. The receptionist got bug eyes, then pretended to be engrossed in his screen for a moment. Probably wondering who would kill him first if he turned the stranger away, his boss or the stranger. "Ah. Yes. We have one room available. Here you are. Apologies."

"Mm."

Today, of all days, Katarn did not have time for chit chat.

Someone stole his bird. Someone he knew only one thing about.

She's a dead woman walkin'.

[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="James Justice"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | @Drough | [member="HK-36"]

 

[Miss Blonde]

The Sanctuary Rose Hotel, on the surface it was your standard five star hotel. They held conferences and had plenty of guests here on legitimate business, but there was a shadier side to it as well. It was Syndicate's Kessel based chapter house, and since the Spice Mines weren't operational at the moment they didn't have much criminal clientele. Which was why the receptionist had mistaken Kal as some vagabond drifter who had no business being in a establishment like this. So when he was checked into the system, a small red flag came up informing the receptionist to inform management that someone of importance was here.

"I'm sorry, sir. Please wait right here, you've been flagged as a VIP." The young receptionist said as she went off to grab a person with rank.

A few moments passed by, and soon an Atrisian man with a bushy mustache and fine suit came out to greet Katarn. If the man paid close attention he'd be able to pick out a few details. His eyes were calm and almost dead, the eyes of a killer. His fists showed signs of scaring and there was a slight bulge in his jacket. This man wasn't ordinary hotel staff, he was one of Syndicate. But despite his cold eyes serious demeanor, the man smiled brightly and approached Sal.

"Mister Katarn, we are so glad to have your business. Please if you'll just follow me you'll be briefed on the situation. Come, we're on a tight schedule after all." The Atrisian nodded his head and began to escort Sal down a long hallway.

As they walked through the lavishly decorated hall, they would eventually come across a rather quiet room that seemed devoid of people. Everything from the furniture to the art on the wall was expensive and had a very regal look to it. There was even a wood burning fireplace den area that smelled of a mixture of wood and old sweet tobacco smoke leftover from a pipe that had been used not too long ago. But what was the most troubling about the area was that above in the upper balconies were men and women holding assault rifles and other weapons in the lowered position. You could never be too careful in the end, especially when dealing with people like Katarn.

"She'll be right with you. Please, have a seat and get comfortable. Help yourself to the bar and if you require anything simply ask one of our attendants up above." the man gave a short bow and then left Sal to his own devices.

This would be an honor for most people, or at least people on friendlier terms. The leader of the Kessel chapter was going to give the mission to Kal herself, this was of course under Miss Blonde's orders but for most criminals this wasn't something that happened very often. Chapter leaders were often tied down with the business of running a criminal enterprise, but since things were relatively slow on Kessel. It was time to start changing all of that. [member="Dyxra'a"] would soon be out to inform Sal of what came next.

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Dyxra'a]

The suddenness that came with her return to consciousness, cresting from the deep sea and ever tugging grasp of unconsciousness, was one that Dyxra'a was sure that she would never learn to deal with. Sharp grey eyes flickered within their sockets, her pupils wide in the sudden panic and gaze bouncing from the barely there indentations and scratches and markings that littered the ceiling above her that would fade in and out of sight. Beneath her breast, her heart hammered away in a rapid tattoo, matching her ragged pants, the blood it fought to push through her body in the wake of onslaught of adrenaline pounding beneath her scales and causing a numbness in her hands as fingers clenched and relaxed, bunching up the sheets that she rested upon as they did so.

Soon, as the seconds passed, her breathing slowed, becoming calm and steady, as the thud of blood faded from her hearing and her panic faded into the back of her mind, slipping away from her focus. Inhaling deeply, her eyes drifting shut, Dyxra'a took in the scent of smoke and ash along with a hint of something floral, before releasing the held breath with a heavy sigh, just as a voice spoke up from her side.

"I'm impressed." The tone, female, was light yet held a very obvious current of dry sarcasm. "Ten hours. Is that a new record for you?" What followed was a harsh chuckle, however, Dyxra'a's eyes did not open. "What, not goin' to look at me? Least you could do since I had to haul your ass onto the bed."

That last prod was all Dyxra'a needed, finally opening her eyes as her head rolled to one side to stared at the form of the blue-skinned, red-eyed and black-haired woman that sat primly on a lounger clad in a pressed grey suit and gripping a datapad in one hand while a lit cigarette hung from the limp fingers of the other. Huffing through the smirk that pulled at her lips, the Chiss simply stared at the Falleen in silence before, with a groan, the green-scaled woman began to cast her right hand around in search of something. "Other side." Stilling her movement as the two words drifted over from the Chiss as she returned to scrolling through her datapad, Dyxra'a's left hand then began to cast around before wrapping itself around a leather grip.

Pushing herself up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, accompanied by the sound of the rough cloth of her shirt running over her scales, the short woman rest her forehead against the top of the metal cane, one that had the word "Janus" engraved along the handle, that she had only just grabbed. Using the cane as leverage, the Falleen pushed herself to her feet before limping over towards the open door of the bathroom, calling over her shoulder as she did so. "What's important today, Sul?"

A few minuets later a clean, refreshed and a lot more alert Dyxra'a stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her tie and the cuffs of her own suit. "So let me see if I understand. I'm to meet this Sal, brief him personally before sending him out on his way, hoping that the threat to his pet will be enough that he'll sort out the mines while I sit here twiddling my damn thumbs. Is that right luv?" The reflection of the Chiss nodded sharply in response. "Well, no wonder I tried to blank my mind last night. Buggering hell."

Spinning around, Dyxra'a stole the cigarette that now hung between the Chiss' lips and, ignoring the glare sent her way as the blue-skinned woman set about pulling out and lighting a new one, walked over to where Janus rested after holstering her weapons and pulling on her leather duster. Sighing out a cloud of smoke, Dyxra'a grabbed the cane before turning and making her way to the door of her room. Behind her, the Chiss trailed dutifully. "Let's get this done, then."

- - - - -

Entering the room that Sal would have been sat within for only a couple of minuets, a small, warm smirk pulling at her lips, the pair strode over to where he would be sat. Stepping forwards first, the Chiss would offer a small bow from the shoulders, her face blank of all emotion. "Greetings Sal Katarn. I am Kana'sosu'ligue and this is my lady Dyxra'a. We are honoured to have you among us." As she had been speaking, Dyxra'a had lowered herself into the seat opposite Sal, a member of staff setting down a small tumbler as she did so before retreating back to the bar, now though Kana'sosu'ligue - or as Dyxra'a called her when not shortening her name to single syllables, Asosul - retreated to stand behind and slightly to the right of Dyxra'a.

Dyxra'a would hold her silence for but a few moments, the smirk on her face shifting into a large smile. "Welcome to the Rose. It is a shame that you're visiting us under such circumstances, but, I do so hope that you'll find any of our services that you chose to make use of satisfactory anyway. After all, right now, we make you happy and, in return, we are happy also. But, I assume that meaningless chatter is not something that you are much in the mood for right now, yes?"

With a gesture of Dyxra'a's head, Asosul would step forward to set a datapad in front of Sal. "Your target: Nathaniel Snellen. Now, dear ol' Nate works as the administrator for the spice mine located at sector 3-A of the town you shall be dropped off at. As I'm sure you'll know, spice can serve as a rather large source of income and Nate currently stands between us and that spice. You are to ensure that he makes his way here, though I am sure that he will not come with you willingly. Now, don't worry, you won't have to try hard to hunt him down. Nate has a bit of an addiction to gambling it seems. Bad habit to get into, I'm sure you'll agree. As such, you'll find him under guard from local security forces in the VIP section of the local casino. Names and specific details can be found there." A lace glove covered hand would wave at the datapad sat upon the table between them.

Leaning forwards, Dyxra'a's voice would lose the jolliness it held, become stoic and entirely serious. "I don't care how you decide to do this. Couldn't give two karks, really. All I care is that you follow three guidelines. One, Snellen is to make his back here alive. Two, no witnesses. Three, and now this one ties in with two, make sure that what happens cannot be traced back to us."

As quickly as the her jovialness had left, it returned as Dyxra'a relaxed back in her seat once more, taking a sip of her drink. "Of course, you cannot entire the VIP section of a casino looking like that, so, our tailor will be made available for your use. Just as our armoury will be. We at the Rose do try to look after those that work for us. After all, it benefits us to do so, no? Any questions, Mr Katarn?"


[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Miss Blonde"], [member="Sal Katarn"],


Meanwhile in the Mines Administrative Compound,


The real protagonist of the story, HK, was busying himself in the abandoned offices attached the the extensive tunnels of spice and stone, now mostly sealed and collapsed, cutting the dangerous spice-spiders that weaved Kessel's riches- I know I thought it was dug too, apparently it's a form of weird silk you can huff spun by vampire-spiders- from anyone who would be foolish enough to try and risk harvesting their webs by themselves. The laboratories that refined the raw spice-threads into glitterstim were most likely completely dismantled if not destroyed, what remained of Kessel's vast narcotic fortune was a salt-shaker filled with golden powder.

This salt-shaker of spice, or a spice-shaker rather, could be found on the desk of the compound's foreman and administrator, along with a holo-plaque that read "Nathaniel Snellen", it was also the very same desk behind which HK currently sat, busying himself.

The droid spread bacta on his organic Vong-biot armor, covering cut marks, singed areas, and burnt blaster-holes on the symbiot, the light-blue substance slowly closing the wounds on the organic armor as it purred,

Mrmrmrmmrrrrrmrrm,

Resealing itself over the droid in the areas that were not protected by its tough composite duraplasat and shark-skin armor plates.


HK pushed himself to stand, walking around the desk as he hummed to himself he would come to stand upon a blank canvas hanged by one of the walls. Still humming he reached down to some object, unseen for your cinematic pleasure. HK would dip his fingers into the liquid and reach to the canvas, spreading red liquid as he begun to form shapes and objects, faces, painting.

He made red silhouettes, outlines, before he moved back, walking away from the canvas and the corpse of a Weequay, his rib cage torn open and blood still fresh, to reach for a container of some black paint with his blood-stained fingers.


You see Nathaniel had a boss, that was HK, but then HK had a boss of his own, whoever hired him to supplement security of the shut down spice mines, and while Blonde struck her deal with Sal and Sal made his way to the hotel something happened at the mines, something that caused for Nathaniel's boss's boss to summon his boss to the spice mines to intervene.

Whatever took place there it seemed to have eluded the Syndicate so far, in fact Nathaniel would not know about it either, but if Syndicate would check upon the facility again they would see that there were no more guards stationed outside.


Hopefully this would all be revealed and explained later on in the story after Sal would deal with Nathaniel and make his way to the mines, for now, mysterious dramatic tension!

 

[Sal Katarn]

Lotta guns.

Thought Sal as he eyed the balconies. Crowded full of folk who looked used to easy violence.

Reminds me of that time on Malastare...

Sal decided to sit. Sure, some Rep commando would probably give him what-for on the tactical advantages of remaining standing, but if a fight broke out in here it wouldn't much matter. 'Sides, if he was going to take forty rounds to the chest, he'd rather do it sittin' down.

A waiter appeared almost immediately.

"What can I get for you?"

"Whiskey."

"Corellian?"

"Sulon."

"Right away."

Katarn rubbed his chin. He had that feelin', the sort you get when you show up to a party 'cept nobody really wanted you there. He could feel eyes on him. Made his skin itch.

The waiter reappeared a moment later with the whiskey.

"On the house."

"Mhm."

He sipped the liquor. Not half bad. He'd just started to enjoy it when they showed up.

Two of 'em, but the Chiss did the introductions.

That's a mouthful.

Chiss had a problem with bein' helpful when it came to names. They liked to make other folk fumble for 'em on account of generally hating anyone who wasn't blue.

Still, Sal sat through the whole thing without a word. Dyx was a Falleen. He didn't much trust Falleens. Had a habit of using pheromones to get their way. Of course, when she commented on his state of dress he couldn't help but glance down. Hm. He happened to like his poncho.

Guess it doesn't much matter.

The objectives were pretty clear. Any questions?

Katarn tossed back the last of the whiskey, then slammed the glass on the table.

"No."

[member="Dyxra'ra"] | [member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="HK-36"] | [member="James Justice"]

 

[Miss Blonde]

Everything that needed to be said was said, and Sal didn't seem like the type of person to talk about his day. So when the conversation between the two ended, there was a knock at the doorway and standing there was the Atrisian man from earlier. He still wore his upbeat smile and stepped into the room holding a datapad. His job was of course to get Mister Katarn to the tailor and weapon's master they had contracted out here for the week. Since everything was so slow on Kessel it just made more sense to hire temporary help than pay a full time weapon master that would eat through their tight budget. But he had another little task he was performing as well. Syndicate had eyes staked out on their Spice Mine, and when something like all the guards disappearing happened, it raised a few flags. They weren't necessarily red ones, but it was best to proceed with a bit of caution.

The Atrisian man approached the Faleen and gave a very deep bow to her out of respect. She was indeed the boss here, and respect needed to be shown.

"My Lady, we have news." The man stepped forward and leaned into her ear hole to whisper the information about the spice mine.

It wasn't going to drastically change anything, and Syndicate were still woefully unaware of HK's presence. But the information of what they could observe was passed on to the Chapter leader in case she wanted to make adjustments. After all, Kessel was her planet from a criminal standpoint, and she had jurisdiction over operations. Blonde as the Prime Executor could reach her hand down and override things, but she had faith in Dyxra'a's abilities.

"Excuse me Mister Katarn, our tailor and and weapon master will see you now." The Atrisian smiled once more and would begin to escort Sal once more.

The short walk over was again a quiet one, there wasn't much to say. Syndicate was forcing him into a bad situation and they knew it, there was no reason why they needed to add insult to injury while they were at it. No, Blonde made sure that Sal was to be treated with respect. It didn't change the situation any, nor would it stop Sal from going on a rampage once he got his bird back. It was simply a professional curtesy from one to another. No matter how this ended, Syndicate was going to be sure that Sal at least got that much.

"We are here." The Atrisian man said with a very stern professional voice.

Stopped outside a very large wooden door with ornate carvings decorating it. The Atrisian faced Kal and spoke once more.

"When you are inside, please treat the tailor with respect. He is the best on Kessel and will take any requests you might have." The Atrisian backed up slightly, took a bow, then opened the door into the room.

The area inside was interesting to say the least. On the right side there was a man dressed in a fine suit sitting behind a desk writing on a few forms, and behind the desk was what could be called a classier sweatshop. Seamstresses worked tirelessly as they stitched together suits and ties from the finest materials around, the right side of the room had a smell of fine leather and silk.

A light would then emit from a small probe droid as it flew around Sal and scanned him taking his measurements almost instantly. Once it was done it flew back towards the man at the desk who caught the little machine in mid air without once taking his eyes off the paperwork.

"Color, how many buttons, style and lining." The man said to Sal, his eyes focused intently on his forms.

Now on the left side of the room things were a bit different. On the left there were glass display cases showing off everything from slug throwers and blasters, to knives and explosives. Everything was a cornucopia of instruments used for death and destruction, and standing behind the service counter for that section was of course non other than the poor man's Atton Rand [member="Myles Vylumnar"] as this week's hired help for the local armory.

[member="Sal Katarn"] [member="Dyxra'a"] [member="HK-36"]

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

It'd been a while since his last good haul. Matter of fact, last time Myles tried to sell some boom-booms and pew-pews to some trigger-happy maniac, he took a blaster bolt to the spine and spent the rest of the week in custody. That wouldn't stop him from trying to make another quick buck, however. He took a job from the Syndicate to arm one of their associates. Figured they wanted to get some business going on Kessel ever since the Jedi's occupation of the mining planet. He was looking to smuggle out another load of spice anyway.

He was provided with some of the Reclaimer Arms & Industrial stock to arm whoever it was they contracted. Myles happened to find most of their products, well, pretty cool. He himself owned a 'Good Samaritan' which he kept loaded with Sith-killer rounds in case of dire situations. Besides that, he brought some of his own stock, which consisted of various weapons collected from various sources. Though he often packed light, Myles happened to be a connoisseur of fine weaponry. Or, at least he thought so. Such interests came along with his experience in mechanics and ships.

Besides all that, he was given little information on the job itself. A name, location, and a pretty little paycheck. That was all he ever needed to get a job done. Myles was still curious as to why the Syndicate was trying to launch another op on Kessel. Most in the criminal underworld would assume that they were kicked out, though he knew that Miss Blonde was not one to give up so easily. Kessel posed as a major income source for many organizations in the spice trade, Myles included. Thus, he was all for the "liberation" of the spice mines.

That led him to where he was now. Sitting in the Sanctuary Rose Hotel surrounded by a plethora of arms. Every weapon-fanatic's dream. He was even given his own desk (which was really just another display case), which he kicked his feet up upon when he wasn't spinning around in the swivel-chair. Across the room was completely different. Numerous cloths and fabrics lay hung around. The tailor the Syndicate hired sat across from him tending to a stack of papers. Myles figured he'd try to make conversation until this 'Sal Katarn' person arrived.

"So... You do this for a living?" he asked. The answer was pretty obvious, but he had to think of something.

No answer.

"Those are some nice fabrics. Must be pretty expensive, but I hear you make a killing off this stuff."

Still no answer.

"Well... You keep doing what you do, I guess..."

"Mm-hm." the tailor finally replied.

Myles sighed, kicking back in the swivel-chair as he took another spin. Once he fully revolved around, he kicked his feet up onto the desk/display case and hummed himself a tune. After a while, he began to zone out staring at the ceiling. Checking his wristcomms, the guy would be here soon.

Six... Seven... Eight...

The door opened, revealing a rather scruffy-looking man who seemed rough around the edges. Like his tailor friend, this person didn't look like they were in the mood for much conversation either.

"My man, uh... Sal!" he greeted. For a brief moment, he forgot the guy's name. "My friend over here will see you first."

He directed him to the tailor who asked him a question, presumably about clothing. Myles found himself spacing out once again while they finished up.

[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="Sal Katarn"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="HK-36"]

 

[Drogh]

(this never existed)

 

[Sal Katarn]

Tailor? Great.

As they walked, Sal wondered about the job. You didn't just kidnap a man's bird then go and force him to kidnap someone else. Nah. Somethin' else was at play. He just didn't know what.

They stopped outside a door. The Atrisian told him to play nice with the tailor.

"Hm."

Best tailor on Kessel. Kinda like bein' the best gardener on Tatooine.

The door opened and Katarn got a full view of what looked like a mini-factory on one side and a weapon museum on the other. He grunted and approached the bug-eyed man. A droid buzzed around Sal annoyingly. Some kid called out, greeting him by his first name. Katarn's flat gaze swiveled toward him, then back to Bug-Eyes.

Buttons?

"Uh. Gray. No buttons. Alderaanian. . . . Tactical."

Katarn had worked for an Alderaanian once. Nice style. They liked sashes. And if Sal couldn't have a poncho, then he liked sashes too. Good for hidin' a carbine.

The tailor got right to work, professional that he was, which left only the kid. Sal looked him up and down.

"Who are you."

[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="Drogh"] | [member="HK-36"] | [member="Myles Vylumnar"]

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

"What my name is, doesn't matter. What does matter, however, is getting you whatever it is you may need to shoot some holes in people."

Myles put up his usual act of friendliness when he dealt with people. He tried to be upbeat even when it seemed that [member="Sal Katarn"] wouldn't be so talkative. He stood from his seat and placed both hands on the display case.

"Anyway- I've got whatever you may need; slugthrowers, blaster rifles, all sorts of things that go boom... Hell, you want an ion cannon? I think I've got one of those stashed around here somewhere..."

As he spoke, he reached up to the gun rack and retrieved what appeared to be a standard issue E-15 blaster rifle. Shaking his head, Myles tossed it aside and pulled out a more impressive pulse rifle and laid it out on the display case for his client to examine. Meanwhile, he took in a deep breath to think about what else what his client would need. Then it clicked: the bare essentials.

Reaching out to a small drawer beneath him, Myles opened it and retrieved a ring of keys. After flipping through it, he finally came up with the key that opened a nearby gun locker. Its contents revealed to be several rifles lined up together and a few other things. A sash was hung which carried about a dozen standard thermal detonators. Yeah, boom-booms.

After handing that over to Katarn, Myles figured that this guy was the type to get up close and personal. Of course, a vibroknife would suit that need just perfectly. No, a vibrosword. He walked over to a sword rack on the other wall, seeming a bit eccentric and in thought as he did so. Carefully, his hands came up to lift a black vibrosword with a neon-blue edge off its stand, and picked up the vibroknife of similar design beneath it.

Now, what was next... Of course! While Myles wasn't an armorer, he could proved a sort of substitute. Ray Shield Grenades would do just the trick, so he picked out a small satchel which could be fitted onto a belt containing around five of them. Then, there was the wrist-mounted rocket launcher. Wasn't really necessary, but hot damn was it such a cool little thing. That much were bare necessities, including a few guns and ammo of course. Everything was laid out on the table before Sal.

"That should be all you really need, but I get the feeling you're gonna want a little more, eh? Go ahead, take your pick at anything you see here. Ammunition is provided, of course. No limitations."

He took a step back and extended his arms out, offering the entire collection to Sal's needs. He had just about everything you could carry in two hands, so Sal would have no worries about not having something. Meanwhile, the tailor continued on working silently at the other end of the room...

[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="Drogh"] | [member="HK-36"]

 

[Miss Blonde]

The bug eyed man let out a small scoff at Sal's request. Alderaanian? Might as well of been wearing a suit that said "Hey, I'm a huge queen. Please shoot me." It was pretty clear the tailor did not hail from Alderaan, but he was still a professional. And as a professional he'd get the man's request started. So with a pencil in hand he didn't bother to respond to Sal as he started drawing on a blank piece of paper. As he sketched away it would give Sal a bit of time to decide what weapons he wanted from the armory, there was a plethora of death to decide from.

A few minutes would pass and there would be a ding of a small bell. The tailor had attached the sketch to a small probe droid that hovered it's way over to the workers in the back who greedily snatched the paper away from the machine. After giving it the once over, the seamstresses quickly got to work. The sounds of multiple machines running and stitching fabric together filled the right side of the room, and as per usual the tailor simply sat there going over his forms and mumbling to himself over his artistic vision being dampened by delicate sensibilities of Alderaanian fashion.

It didn't take long at all for the suit to wrap up. There were over a dozen people working on getting this order out in a very quick amount of time. A solid fifteen minutes and the job was done, and since they didn't have to worry about buttons or a custom fit vest, they simply needed to flush out the coat and pants. They already had dress shirts and ties to boot.

"Whenever you're ready Mister Katarn." The tailor let out a soft sigh and then cringed a bit at the suit.

With it all set and ready to go the suit was almost flawless compared to the standards of most people. But for the tailor the damn thing was a monstrosity, a suit without buttons was just gross. There was no style or sanity to it. But it was still a piece of functioning clothing. It was weaved out of energy resistant spider silk, Fleximetal, and of course had small flexible SAPI plates weaved into the lining to stop kinetic strikes. While it didn't offer as much protection as real armor, it would allow Sal to move freely and blend into the crowd of the casino.


[member="Sal Katarn"] [member="Myles Vylumnar"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

Sal frowned as the kid started goin' on about the selection he could choose from. Of course, as soon as the 30mm compact cannon got laid down Sal's opinions started to change. Looked like the sort of weapon that could do some damage.

That plus his own pair of pistols would work fine.

He'd seen some greenhorns try to pack it all in, go for the sword and the knife and the grenade belt and about three rifles. Practically fall over from the weight of their equipment.

Katarn's frown transferred to the vibrosword. "Mm."

He did not pick it up. Instead, he grabbed the pulse cannon and checked the action before setting it back down. "This."

A weathered finger pointed to the vibroknife. "That."

The finger passed over the rocket launcher and settled on the ray shield grenades. "Those."

* * *

Katarn stepped out of the dressing room in the new suit. Some might say it was stylish. Sal didn't particularly care. It was functional, could stop a round or five, and nobody would raise an eyebrow at the casino if he showed up in it. That was all that mattered.

Holstered at his hip, hidden by the long suit jacket, sat Vanir pistol. The knife sat in a belt sheath on the other hip. In a second holster under his armpit sat the Houk & Herglic revolver. He wore a strange glove on his left hand. The five ray shield 'nades also sat at his belt. Extra rounds lay in various pockets and whatnot.

As for the pulse cannon, well, he just let that hang from a sling beneath the jacket. People might notice. Might not. Didn't much matter. Should take care of anything weird happening to stroll his way. The image of blowing that gas mask woman's face off with it also seemed appealing.

He looked at the tailor. "It fits."

Then Sal left.

No use stallin'.

* * *

Katarn's path led to the casino. If the gas mask lady had any more little trinkets lined up, she'd let him know. If not, whatever. He'd already got a plan in mind for Mr. Nathaniel Snellen.

Gonna shoot the bastard.

[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="Myles Vylumnar"] | [member="James Justice"] | [member="HK-36"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Sal Katarn"], [member="Miss Blonde"],

Meanwhile, at the mines,


With closer examination the stake-out agents Blonde sent would be able to finally spot the guards stationed at the entrance to the main compound building, two armored figures sitting on the ground and slumped limply against the thick durasteel wall. From the looks of it someone took them down already, a scar-like opening was also cut in the durasteel chain-link fence around the outer perimeter of the mines, big enough for an armored soldier to move through, that should have been enough of a clue that someone already attacked, or tried to attack, the mines.

Outside of that everything was dead-still within the building, at least from the outside, they would not be able to see anybody come in or go out of the building.

 

[Miss Blonde]

Sal needed to get to the casino, which wasn't really an easy task. You see, Kessel much like any planet was divided into a northern hemisphere and a Southern Hemisphere. But in this case this was more significant from a cultural standpoint than a geographic one. Far in the north were the spice mines and mining towns that tended to them, and in the south there were the planet's Sanctuaries. Large sprawling metropolises where the Sanctuary Rose Hotel was located, and the spice mine and casino was exactly where you thought it was. The northern hemisphere of the planet. Now the Silver Jedi were serious about keeping these mines closed, and in order to make sure they stayed close, everyone going between sectors were scanned and screened before being allowed access between locations. Luckily Blonde had a plan to circumvent that little situation.

Outside the Sanctuary Rose when Katarn was leaving, the Atrisian man with the bushy mustache stood holding a small device. With a nod to Sal he pressed a small button and an image of Miss Blonde came onto the screen. She had the same switchblade in her hand and Ka was near her still in his restraints. Before speaking she let out a pleased robotic hmmm and then looked to Sal.

"You clean up nice." She said as the blade danced between her finger tips, casually twirling the weapon near the bird.

"Listen, you'll be getting a ride over to the northern hemisphere. Little place called The Ends, you'll find your casino there. Now you've already been briefed so I'm just telling you how you're going to get there. Obviously you can't go there decked out in all those weapons, so we're going to fly you in under the radar. My associate Runner will be taking you, so be nice, have fun, give a hoot don't pollute, only you can prevent forest fires, all that good $&#%. He'll be picking you up and dropping you off. By the way Squawkles is fine so, ciao." The call ended before she could let Sal get off a word and the Atrisian man simply stepped aside to point towards a landing pad.

Waiting over yonder on one of the pads was one [member="James Justice"] who had one of his stealth ships waiting to take Sal across the boarder into the Northern Territory. It was going to be a breeze slipping past the fuzz and getting back with James involved. Blonde certainly trusted Sal to get there on his own, but she didn't leave anything to chance. While she certainly had other agents who might be able to get this job done, she needed Sal to do it. He was a free agent and didn't have any strings to Syndicate. If things went wrong he was the perfect fall guy, it was business after all.

"Good luck, Mister Katarn. Safe passage and happy hunting." The Atrisian gave a bow then stepped away from Sal due to him being pretty sure that Sal was more than a little upset right now.

And yet Syndicate was still blissfully unaware of the dastardly plans of [member="HK-36"] and his very strange and my mysterious plot that had everyone on confused. Though with this new information it would surely shake things up a bit.

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

Once again, Sal had to watch the woman toy with him - threatening his bird all casual like - while he stood there, useless. Enough to drive a man to murder, some might say.

Katarn's empty stare would've made a Mandallian Giant flinch.

The fingers of his right hand hung near the butt of his pistol and twitched once or twice, almost as if he had an itch he needed to scratch.

The Atrisian said thank you, but no thanks and got the hell out of Nar Shaddaa. Probably saw the twitching.

Fair. Thought Katarn. Mighta killed him.

It'd been a while since he'd had his buttons pushed like this. Not a lot of people could do it. Didn't have a lot to care about these days... 'cept that bird.

Letting out a long sigh through the nose, Sal moseyed over to the landing pad to find this Runner fella.

[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="HK-36"] | [member="James Justice"]

 

[James Justice]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVBAeS5t5nc[/media]​

A pile of used cigarette butts piled in a thick mound at the Runner's feet. Around him hung a haze of smoke so thick no single man could have made all of it in a month--let alone in a day. The Runner's dead wife had said once she could always tell what he was feeling with one quick glance at his expressive face. Today his passionful eyes glared at the galaxy with a sense of ever present rage and furry. The spacer was one of the best there were at his craft, but the galaxy had given him hell ten times over.

When his passenger came closer, the spacer flicked his cigarette across the way, letting it bounce off another ship, smudging its paint with a plink. Ordinarily he would have been instantly recognizable, but the Runner had learned a long time ago how to be invisible no matter what.

He gave his passenger one of his winsome signature smiles, "Good to see ye mate, ye down for the Ends Express?"

He jerked his thumb towards the Nestis Cora behind him ((in the sig)), "Right on in, make yeself comfortable but dun't scratch the wood work or ruin the leather, mate." He followed Sal up the loading ramp. On his way to the cockpit he grabbed a pair of half full bottles of ale, "Ye thirsty?"

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Miss Blonde"], [member="Sal Katarn"],


Meanwhile at the mines,


There was still nothing going on, the dead or unconscious guards remained by the doorway, limp, lifeless, wind softly tugged the cut open durasteel chain link fence back and forth, nothing moved inside of the compounds.

A question would come to mind then, did the Syndicate would keep their stakeout team still there to watch over the facility or would they have them get out of the area while they could and move on to divert what little resources they had towards Sal and his mission in the casino?

 

[Sal Katarn]

Sal's eyes narrowed slightly as he entered the haze of smoke that lingered around the Runner. So much smoke ringed the fella he might as well have been his own personal Sullustan caldera.

The man spoke. Sal couldn't place the accent.

Thirsty?

"No."

Katarn sat down in the co-pilot's seat and waited for the man to take off. Impression of the Runner?

Affable. Very affable.

[member="HK-36"] | [member="James Justice"] | [member="Miss Blonde"]

 

[Miss Blonde]

Things were going wrong before they even started, which was definitely not the plan. The stakeout team monitoring the mines from afar would be able to see that the area was compromised, something was going on in there and it wasn't good at all. But that didn't matter, they would make it work. They did have loose ends to tie up and when one door closes another one opened, so little known to Sal once he was done securing Nathaniel. He'd be sent into the den of wolves to make sure he remained quiet about this whole ordeal. It wasn't what Blonde particularly wanted, but it would have to make due. They couldn't afford anymore losses at this juncture, and an angry Sal Katarn on a warpath aimed at them was certainly alarm for plenty of potential loss. Best to just nip it in the bud early on.

But back to current events, the two men inside the Cora would need to make their way down to The Ends. It would be a pretty quick trip considering they were just going from one hemisphere to another. With a ship like the Cora, sneaking past those pesky boarder patrols would be a synch and the action could begin.

So whenever it was they got there, Sal would need to hit the casino. The place wasn't terribly packed considering that the spice mines were closed, and there was less money going around. Gambling just wasn't all that great when you were sober. But for some, gambling was their drug. That unescapable hole that just kept pulling them in deeper and deeper, Nathaniel just happened to be in said hole. A primarily decent person until his station here, where he got to know the love of gambling and maybe only a tiny taste of spice thanks to forces that may or may not of had to do with Blonde playing the long game.

Either way, the casino had a decent amount of people within it. The hardcore gamblers who lived and thrived off of games such as these, and posted at each entry to the place was casino security who were of course armed and ready to kill. Though there were deadly opponents among the guards, a more elite security team tasked with taking care of Administrator Snellen while he was at the Sabac tables of the VIP area on the second floor. Maybe there was even a wolf or two hidden among the dogs [member="Drogh"]

[member="James Justice"] [member="HK-36"] [member="Sal Katarn"]