Decade Old Doghouse [Gabe]

[Sarge Potteiger]

Panther Class Shuttle
Nar Shaddaa

Sarge was not a man prone to making mistakes; or, rather, more aptly, he was not a man prone to making mistakes he could not immediately fix. In his own way, he was a rather calculated individual. There was, however, one individual in his life which often aroused a truer version of himself than most, and that version did not have quite the control that he would otherwise be known for.

That was why, in the heat of an argument, he'd fractured an antique desk with a fist. A fissure had broken its back, the inherent force of his reinforced skeletal structure impacting its aged frame a bit more than it could stand to bear. Sarge had often had a fondness for dark wood, and the knowledge he'd ruined the desk had oft-haunted him when Cira had become... someone else.

It wasn't that he'd broken the desk, rather, it was a reminder that he had a long line of mistakes that had lead up to her kidnapping and death. Often, those mistakes revolved around the two of them being together. Yet, as though caught in her gravity well, he kept circling, unable to truly escape. But he'd caught word that Gabriel was rather handy with carpentry, and Sarge knew enough of it himself that the pair of them might actually be able to find a suitable replacement for the broken piece of furniture.

In fairness, it would never truly be replaced - substitute was likely a better word. You couldn't fix the old one, so he would make a new one. Same wood. Body-wood. Which was why he'd brought Gabriel with him to Nar Shaddaa. Most would think it crazy, bringing a prisoner to a world that was easy to escape into. But Sarge knew a few things.

First, he knew Gabriel was a good man at heart. His gut told him so. Second, he knew he wanted to stick around for Chevu; they seemed quite attached. Third, not coming back with him meant more trouble for Chevu, which funneled straight back into his second rationale. Nothing about this struck him as dangerous. Easing the shuttle down onto a landing platform outside one of the high brow trade districts.

Anything went on here, and when looking for wood that had only ever been harvested under the Galactic Empire, it was better to start with the lawless than the lawful. Cycling the engines down, a pair of droids activated from their housings and made to watch the ramp. The HBD series had been a Cater brainchild, and these were armed with telescopic vibroblades and flechette launchers. Perfect for defending a ship.

As ever, Sarge came harnessed in enough armor to make a Mandalorian blush, and he came to a stop next to [member="The Revenant"]. "So, Gabriel. Tell me what you know of body wood." Not waiting any longer, he made to step down the ramp and get their hunt for wood moving.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He rubbed the wrists with an idleness as he stepped down the ramp with Sarge. Like wearing a wedding ring for too long and removing it do work, he felt the phantom lingerings of the alchemic shackles. It seemed odd to walk about without some form of security device attached to him. Perhaps, one day, a majority of the Galactic Alliance would come to trust him. As a select few had done, the sort of expression he appreciated with a thoughtful silence and smirk.

Despite what little Gabriel had done, in his former life, in regards to plants, he knew a particular drug dealer who was the subject matter expert on anything pertaining to it. He had even developed ways of manipulating plants to improve his production of drugs, amidst a high. He recalled a particular and seemingly long discussion about rare plants, the likes of which brought about the topic of body-wood. "Very little I'm afraid..." He stated plainly, walking down the ramp with the man-made-tank. His armorweave robe rode along his shoulders, hovering above the ground gently. "A man I once knew spoke to me at length about desiring it for a massive table. He reiterated, numerous times, that the wood was extremely rare and expensive and bled." Gabriel shook his head. "Wood that bleeds?" He lifted the tone of the phrase at the end, questioning the concept of it. Didn't make much sense but he understood it to be beautiful material to work with.

Leaving the Panther Class Shuttle in their wake, Gabriel strode alongside Sarge and found himself curious. "Why do you ask?" In earnest, he hoped that it would tie back to why they were on Nar Shaddaa. The place was a haven for deceit and briggands and the like. And it smelled of corruption, through and through, a planet constantly vomiting up pitch and duracrete to express the very notion.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Becuase, Gabriel. Believe it or not, I have made mistakes." He says, rather enigmatically, before a rather ornery Toydarian comes fluttering around the corner, belting out insults in Basic. It paused in front of Sarge, jabbing a finger repeatedly into his chestplate, gesticulating emphatically about payment and reservations. Looking to [member="The Revenant"], Sarge seemed almost to smile behind his helmet.

It was not unlike watching someone with sunglasses; there were instances you just knew they were looking at you or away from you. A cred chit was hefted from Sarge's waist as he turned back to the Toydarian, and Sarge roughly shoved it into the alien's chest before moving on. There was some hollering about payback but there was enough money there to shut the bugger up.

Hopefully. "I don't know exactly what you know of me, but you of anyone would know the lengths I went to for Cira. What I did to get her back. I'd like to think I sheltered her until she healed, but... we were circling each other long before that." And Sarge realized that Gabriel was the only individual that had ever heard him utter these words aloud. "Her place is across from mine on Naboo - she's got an island retreat, ancient place." That drew a rather amused snort.

"She always appreciated the classics. Comes with being an archaeologist, really. But she had a desk, in her office, and I... I don't even remember what we were arguing about. But she got angry. And I got angry. It was probably something to do with me being too close, or trying to take care of her and she never much enjoyed that feeling. Or, at least if she did, she never admitted to it openly.

And I slammed my fist onto the desk. Cracked it right in half. Antique job, likely older than dirt. Probably why it broke so easy." But a desk was a desk, and that was still a good deal of wood to hit through. Stepping out onto the main thoroughfare, neon signs reflecting off the sharp corners of his armor, Sarge made his way through the crowd almost without notice. Quite a feat given his size. "And so there we were, Gabriel. Cira and I, a broken body wood desk, and we started fighting. She always had such a rage inside her.

I remember her atop me, staring down at my chest - she'd spilled water on me earlier, I remember. Whole bucket. No idea why. But regardless, she was atop me, all beautiful, heavenly fury and she was staring down at my chest. I could see her eyes work over the scars. It wasn't appreciation. Rather, it was a realization. A realization that she didn't want to add to my pain.

She was gone not long after. I got her a replacement but... I'd never gotten around to the actual substitution, being the Lord Protector and all. So we're here to get body wood. Or find someone who knows where to get body wood. May as well start with the people who shouldn't have it but do."

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

That was a story in and of itself. Maybe a bit more plying at a later date would discern truly the argument that occurred. But as it stood, it sounded like Gabriel trying to explain his own memories to Jacen. He smiled and made that laughing noise, without actually laughing, where one just blows air out of his nose. "Back when the One Sith were on speaking terms with the illustrious Red Ravens, I broke a table. I dropped a whiskey glass on it, broke it right in half. Well, it wasn't me, but I recall it." He shook his head, chuckling. "Everyone got so mad about it, guards were about to shoot, Twi'lek got pretty upset, and a certain Chiss just looked on in horror. I have few memories from my life imprisoned in my own body that I recall fondly but that one, that was funny." He looked to Sarge. "And yeah, must have been really shoddy workmanship. I could have done infinitely better, I imagine."

He kept on. "I understand your predicament, Sarge. I do. As much as there are more important things in this universe, a gesture such as this can go to immeasurable lengths. You could buy her anything...well almost anything I assume. But not everything can come from the heart." He understood because his own feelings for a particular Mirialan were what drew him to the Galactic Alliance. He came to that place knowing full well that he would be imprisoned, treated as a pariah, and even potentially executed. If Coren had his way, Gabriel would be long gone and sent to ashes. But it was the gesture, the display of certain intentions, that meant more than the sum of the parts. Maybe, one day, Gabriel might make a body-wood desk for Chevu. "And for those with that fire inside, it's always about what comes from the heart."

Perking up, taking in the neon lights of the world around them, Gabriel grew attentive towards the signage. "So we are looking for an auction then? Black market might be a suitable location as well..." He thought, wondering how difficult it would be to find a lumber vendor in such circumstances. "The one I knew, part of the Coruscant Rotary Club, had a contact on Nar Shaddaa...or at least in the black market, that dealt in rare, threatened, and endanger biological goods. That might be a place to start." He looked to Sarge. "Vendor went by the alias, 'Hibiscus Hideaway.'" He nodded through the crowd. "Catchy name...I'll give 'em that."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Black market. An auction of something like this would be in small enough quantities as to make it seem rarer than it is in an effort to hike the price up. I've a few contacts, though not in the biological areas." Sarge had spent centuries as a wetwork specialist, and his contacts dealt in information, weapons, and sometimes poisons. Though those had been Ayden's contacts. The former Lord Protector had always favored a more violent, direct approach.

Coming to a stop - and getting a few people bumping into him in the process - Sarge looked around. "What do you know of Hibiscus Hideaway?" He asks Gabe, needing information before he could start his hunt.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"Hibiscus Hideaway..." He closed his eyes, imploring the developed eidetic memory. Time spent in a prison of his own making, sent to a form of utility. His mind drifted to the discussion with Roger Kranos, a man of a particular high but of the sort that leads to productivity. And for every major businessman, there was a dossier for them. And in his mind, Gabriel held the datapad with information pertaining to the dealer. But only information he had actually looked at.

"Neimoidian...prominent scar running across the chin." He inhaled. "Started his business with the export of Manax Trees and Neimodian fungi off world, from the purse planets. Labeled as..." He paused and shifted his head. "Money laundering. Ten years ago, the man known as Hibiscus Hideaway shifted to the export of rare plants and endangered mammals, particularly for the consumption of said animals or the use of bones for eating utensils." He breathed out and opened his eyes. "He's got a registered meeting spot on Nar Shaddaa, a prominent cantina..." He looked towards a flashing building map and looked back towards Sarge. "The Meltdown Cafe." He chewed on his cheek. "Maybe we should pay him a visit?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="The Revenant"]

Sarge turned his head towards the map, blinking a little until he found what he was looking for. Not far. "Let's do it." He remarks, pushing through the crowd with ease once more. Cantina's on Nar Shaddaa often fell into one of two categories - human friendly, and non human friendly. These were important distinctions because in one, humans survived. In the other, they died. Not because of being shot or the like, but simply because the non-human friendly ones changed their internal atmospheres to something more friendly to their preferred clientele.

Thankfully, this one was human friendly, and he stepped his way into the cantina before moving straight towards an empty table. Stopping in the door to scan the crowd was not something he liked to do in a place like this. It drew more attention than necessary. As he settled in, Gabe presumably joining him, he looked about slowly, attempting to discern where a Neimoidian may be over the music and dim lighting.

He may not be here, and then they could ask around. But he was hoping to avoid that. His gaze settled on an Ithorian blocking the view of someone, and he sighed, knowing he'd need to wait for him to move. Probable find, there. His head turned again, and he found a Duro - not quite what he was looking for. "Neimoidian, scar." He reminds.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Sarge was a man on a mission, in armor, with the inclination to make mountains move for his purpose. Crowds of people would hardly stand in his way. Gabriel merely followed behind, trying to keep up, as they made their way to the Meltdown Cafe, the sort of cantina that was evidently human friendly based on those within the establishment. That was fortunate, at least for the one of the two that wasn't wearing full body armor.

He settled in at the table across from Sarge, sweeping out his armorweave robe as it shrouded the back of the chair. The room was thumping with a heavy bass, probably a bit excessive for the current lackadaisical clientele, but it seemed the DJ wasn't too interested in what the people there cared about. It was evident by the random stringing together of instruments that somehow passed for music. Gabriel rubbed his ear, either trying to alleviate the throb or push in the tragus, he winced to each thump.

His hands found a bowl of shelled nuts. Cracking one open, Gabriel bit down and scanned the room behind Sarge. "Yeah. Neimoidan, scar. Besides that, relatively non imposing." He moved his head to the side, thinking he spotted the man, but realized it was actually a female Neimodian. He could tell by the specific walk and movement because, for the life of him, he couldn't based on much more. But perhaps she might know Hibiscus. Gabriel tapped the table.

"Your six. Female Neimodian, heading towards the other side of the bar. Not our guy...but maybe she might know him?" He raised his eyebrows to Sarge, pursing out the side of his lips. "Worth a try."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge gave a nod, palms set down onto the table to stabilize the pushing of a mountain upward. Gabriel was, the warrior ruminated, what he'd always wanted to be; assured without arrogance, intelligent without presumption, and wise in a way only the pain of experience could be. And while a number of people could easily apply these descriptors to Sarge, he realized as he made towards the female that Gabriel had, in many ways, what Sarge did not.

He had confidence. Confidence in the goodness of the world around him. There lay no true darkness in Gabriel anymore, and while Sarge was entirely certain the half-Wrath could still rip a head from it's shoulders given the opportunity, he knew the man would sooner see peace take the day than let things get to such a point.

This was, after all, a man who'd allowed himself to be imprisoned for the sake of the sense of security that others felt. She slotted into a place at the bar for a drink, looking as though she wanted to get it and find a table or booth, and Sarge slipped into position next to her.

Setting a few credits down, he paid for whatever it was the reptiles drank. She raised her brows, knowing this particular game. There was no 'buying drinks' on Nar Shaddaa without a business deal in the works. "Lumber." Sarge says, turning his head towards her. "Exotic, antique lumber."

"I may have a friend..." she returns, giving the soldier a once over that asked 'what do you need wood for?'

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Gabriel gave a subtle nod to the armored man, lifting his hands as Sarge pushed himself up. To be honest, he wasn't sure if the table would take the weight of the suit. He had seen bar room tables break under much less stress. Grabbing a handful of shelled nuts, he placed them in his pocket and cracked his thumb in between his fingers, following Sarge with a similar intent and purpose. The fact of the matter, he understood this mission. It was the sort that came from the heart. So precious few things did these days.

As they approached the woman, Sarge got straight to the point. The man was military and cut from a certain cloth and while Gabriel appreciated what the man brought to the table, at the end of the day, a gentle hand would deliver the intel he needed. Besides, Gabriel merely needed to get close enough to this woman to recall that she was in fact part of the messenger systems for the Hideaway. As she asked for the purpose for the lumber, Gabriel stepped forward and deshelled another nut. He carried a level of nonchalance, the sort that indicated that in a former life, he may have taken part in this process more than a few times.

​"Biodegradable planters."
"Oh?" The Neimodian woman smiled and approached. "For what sort of plants?"
Gabriel smiled. "Sunblossoms, Hydra Flowers and Sharps Hawthorne."
"Ahh, Sharps Hawthorne...very rare." She steepled her hands together. "What's your favorite plant, if I may ask?"
"Mandalorian orange tree." In another life, when Reverance was tethered to [member="Matsu Xiangu"], that was her favorite tree. Because within the cobble substrate came cactus poppers of concentrated glitterstim.

She smiled and nodded, turning and waving them over towards a large circular booth. As she turned, Gabriel turned towards Sarge and scratched his beard, speaking quietly. "I'll explain after."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge raised a brow under his helmet at Gabriel; though it was finished with a hint of a smirk. Gabriel would have an easier time making friends around here than Sarge would. Folk knew a thug when they say one, and Sarge did nothing to dissuade the notion. Play to your strengths and whatnot, that's what he'd always been told. Shrugging mentally, he followed after the female as she made towards a circular booth.

One far too small for Sarge's bulk.

Coming to a stop in front of the table, Sarge motioned for Gabriel to take a seat as the woman slid to the back. She pulled out a datapad, setting it into the table as she gave them both a polite smile - but she was decidedly more enamored with Gabriel. Between the two men, one was armored, gruff, direct and screamed either 'high paid bodyguard' or 'fed too far from home.'

Gabriel more fit the bill, so she'd play to him. "I've contacted my friend. He's interested in meeting - here, initially." Sarge turned his back to the table, arms folding over his chest. It wasn't a moment or two more that the Neimoidian came in; slowly, eyeing the room, the crowd. He must wait nearby before accepting the summons. Perhaps a childish ploy at seeming overly important?

Still, it took a moment for Sarge to process that he'd just turned his back to a criminal and to Gabriel. He apparently already trusted the prisoner.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"I'm glad to hear that..." He said simply, keeping his focus on the female Neimodian and Sarge. As the contact moved closer, Gabriel leaned against the booth and withdrew one of the shelled nuts from his pocket. Cracking it, he sprinkled the shell on the floor and popped the edible piece into his mouth. Nodding to the Neimodian male, he motioned to him and smiled.

"So, I hear you are interested in a rare wood type...for potting plants."
"Yes." Gabriel stated plainly, looking towards Sarge to see if he would partake in the conversation.
"Well, what are we talking about here?"
"Body-wood..."Gabriel stated plainly and leaned forward. "As much as you can offer." He was quick about the answer. But if Sarge was gonna flip the bill for a table for Cira, maybe he'd do the same for Chevu. There were numerous gestures to be made it seemed. And unlike his counterpart, Gabriel was essentially broke.

"As much as I can offer?" The Neimodian laughed and rubbed his hands together. "My good man, by the looks of things, you can't afford that."

Gabriel smiled and leaned back from the table. Picking at his teeth, he facially shrugged with a forward sort of frown, before looking towards the armored figure. Sarge could assuredly afford whatever was required.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge listened with one ear to the conversation behind him, lips quirking upward into what could only be termed a smile. "That's because he's not the one paying for it."

The Neimoidian turned his head, clearly putting the pieces together. "Perhaps you could afford it."
"I can." Four hundred years of interest added up. Especially when you knew who had the best interest rates in the galaxy, though there'd been some financial shuffling along the way. The Plague was not a calm time by any means.
"Well, we could talk pri-"
"Show it to us first. I want to inspect the quality."

There was a slow nod, and the female looked towards her boss. "And the quantity too." The trader pursed his lips and then hurried away. Greedy little aliens they were, and considering what the man was wearing... who could blame Hibiscus? Anyone in that sort of armor clearly had no small amount of wealth. Clearly. Sarge motioned for Gabe to get off his lazy ass. If he'd noticed what Gabriel was trying to do, he didn't show.

But who knows, maybe he was just too concerned about his own desk to pick up the nuance of things.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Ugh. This booth was actually a good deal more comfortable than the last table they were at. Cushions gave in just the right ways, far more comfortable then the bed in his cell. And the table was alright, nothing special but solid foundation and bolted down. No wobbling. Gabriel exhaled and sprinkled pieces of shell on the table, scooting out of the booth as he straightened out his robe.

Watching the Neimodian scamper off, leading them along, Gabriel pawed at his grey and black beard. Letting just enough space between the two and the vendors for him to say something to Sarge. "Hey..." He spoke quietly, brown eyes darting forward as they moved from seating area to the vending location. Or perhaps there was a docking port and hidden entrance, hidden somewhere in the folds of this particular cantina. "If he has enough, could I ask you a favor? I would be interested in building a desk for someone as well..." He looked towards the armored man. He wasn't sure how much this would cost or whether there would be enough. But he had to try. "I'll owe you."

If he gave the impression that Gabriel owing someone was significant, that's because it was. He was never one to fall into another's pocket but he had precious few things in this world that couldn't be taken away. His word was one of those things and he clung to it and his integrity as a starving man would, clinging to his last bits of bread.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="The Revenant"]

Sarge booked it after the Trader with the plodding, hunched gait of a man on a mission, and he didn't stop despite his vocalizer speaking loud enough for Gabe to hear. "Consider it done." The paired aliens led them to a nearby alleyway and down through a sub-'ground level' door that fed into a tunnel. Sarge visibly hunkered over as he stepped into the tube, the grating that formed the walkway a solid foot about the bottom. It meant Sarge almost knocked his helmet off the ceiling more than once.

"Our clients are not usually so... conspicuous." Hibiscus says, almost sounding like he didn't believe they were here for what they were here for. Sarge's response was a grunt, even as they came to a set of stairs that seemed to lead them deeper into wherever they were going, a lone blastdoor at the bottom.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"Thank you..." He said quietly, scratching his beard with a single downward stroke. Efficient technique, tending and mending all in one. Following behind the large armored figure, he felt the plunge of diving deep into this tunnel. Like finding a cavern under the water, against a cliff face, he wondered what exactly they were getting into. A narrow walkway, a set of stairs, a blast door. Commentary from Hibiscus, he knew the way the creature thought. It wasn't necessarily true. After all, you couldn't be much more conspicuous then the hip thrusting Roger Kranos. Well, the armored size of Sarge definitely came close.

But he lacked a particular scent of drugs with an abundance of glitter.

The blast doors opened to a port, hidden within the station with a bottom side entrance. Odd, Gabriel thought, as he looked at a repulsor lift covered in slabs of naturally grained wood, pink in tone with veins of scarlet red. He blinked slowly, squinting as he approached closer.

"Not any further." Hibiscus spoke sternly with a hand out.

Gabriel looked towards the dealer. Were they asking for money or was this the part where they tried to gun down two masters in the belly of this station.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="The Revenant"]

Sarge approached anyway, but only after the trader explained himself. "He may check, as he is paying." The warrior hadn't anticipated a port, but he hadn't anticipated this much wood, either. A gauntlet came up, brushing reverently over the top of the slabs in a lover's caress, as though he didn't need flesh on wood contact to know it was real. His lips quirked faintly, and he reached up to twist off his helmet, unkempt hair coming into view as void black eyes shifted to the trader.

"How much?" He asks, flatly.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"45,000 credits per linear foot." The dealer was abrupt.

Gabriel coughed, covering his mouth, surprised by the number. Reverance had dealt in large sums of money before but that seemed excessively high for what was essentially wood. Gabriel cracked his neck, spying view of the wood but unable to inspect it. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited to see if the man in the armor would go the route of bartering or the route of ease. He wasn't sure what he expected, but that seemed ridiculous. From the perspective of a man that had never truly known wealth. At least, not in credits.

He made note of the Sarge's appearance, beneath the armor, and smirked at the display. Seems it wasn't an entirely common practice, given this was the first for Gabriel.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]​

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge gave a slow nod, weighing that. He'd never bought black market wood before, but that was half a krayt dragon pearl per foot. Still, of what he knew of bodywood it was likely a common enough price. History told him that the Galactic Empire had allowed only one person to harvest the wood, and no one else had truly bothered since, so to find any that wasn't already processed into something like a table or the like was an immensely difficult task.

There came a shifting of his armor as he resettled the helmet beneath his arm, "30, and I buy all of it." Because he was going to need all of it. Probably more credits than the trader made in the last two years anyway.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Gabe could almost hear the sound of marbles, brain pieces rolling around behind the eyes. The lift of smoke from a head overloaded, contemplation between the burdened cost of acquiring that wood and the margin they desired. But to move so much product, contemplation was had. After all, that could very well approach 1 million credits. Not so much in the grand scheme of things, but for a dealer, it could be enough to move other products through customs that might fetch a better price. The Old master simply lifted his hand to his mouth, entertained by the conundrum.

"It's a good offer.. And we'll take it with us, no need for you to worry about smugglers..." They had the Alliance and the former ties of the old factions on their side, not to mention the righteous path. Besides, if they were caught by a blockade, their capture would provide far more than these slabs of wood. But for Hibiscus, that risk was one better not taken. And he turned his head from Gabriel to the black eyes of the armored man.

"Deal. Wire the money to this account..." He handed him the information and crossed his arms. "Then I'll forward the codes for entry into this specific port. You can haul it from here. Fair?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]​