First Reply Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

[Salvor King]

Coruscant
​

He'd been following his target for over a dozen blocks. WeatherNet called for rain, and King didn't have an umbrella. Soaked, his hair draped over and stuck to his face in agitating fashion. Keeping several meters between them and himself, King stalked mostly unprotected through the artificial precipitation. Avoiding puddles, he weaved and pranced deftly on occasion to keep himself from drawing any attention.

A kilometer and a half later, a left turn led to a highrise apartment building. Tracking in water, King waited a few moments before shadowing behind through the revolving door. When they took the turbolift, King took the stairs. Over a decade of cardio training made for sustaining ten rounds of shockboxing paid off here. He was a little late to the proper floor, discerned only through Force-assisted intuition, but he had hardly broken a sweat.

King followed as casually as possible. He slid behind a 'person of interest' began tapping at a door control panel. When the distinct sound of a door hissing open echoed through the otherwise vacant hallway, King slowly counted to two. As soon as the count was over, he bolted down the hallway, slipping his left TURBODUSTER in front of the threshold and catching the door at the very last second.

He squeezed. The crushgaunt tech allowing him to crumple the edge of the door with very little effort. With a fluid pull, he forced the door open, causing the hydraulics to make a curious groan. King slipped through the gap he'd created before releasing the door and allowing it to close. Fist's clenched, his forearms and wrists flicked out in a sudden motion, activating the electric charge on either TURBODUSTER.

"Knock knock!"

Time to get down to business.

 

[Lao Pak]

Lao Pak turned, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

"It appears sir, that we have been followed." Lao Pak looked up at L9 like he was some sort of fool then back to the sopping wet man, his mouth twisting in disgust as his greasy-looking curls dripped water onto the expensive, though 10000% illegal Wookie-Skin rug of the rather large apartment. The room screamed of opulence and illegality. Sith and Jedi artifacts were displayed as trophies, a massive Kyberite statue of "The Daughter" demanding the most attention in the far right of the curved penthouse. There was even a set of Mandalorian armor standing at attention beside an ancient Mandalorian Vault.

"Boss is gonna be very mad," he managed. As if on cue a door on the far side of the room hissed open. A tall man with a distinguished air about him entered, his long silver hair reaching down almost to his knees. He had pale skin and milky white eyes with no discernable pupils. His black suit contrasted vividly with his appearance. The man stared at the three of them, the Droid, the interloper, and Lao Pak, a hint of anger behind those white eyes. A four-fingered hand reached into his breast pocket to pull out a chromium-plated case of cigarras and plucked one from the case and putting it between his perfect teeth. He looked down his long nose at the smugglers and then to the presumed bounty hunter and offered the curly-headed man one with a gesture.

"Do you mind?" He asked, his voice melodic and condescending. "That rug is vintage, circa 60 ABY on the old calendar." He gestured again to see if the man wanted a smoke as he lit his own and puffed once.

"W-What about Lao Pak? I haven't had a spice cigarra in a while and-" A sharp glance from the man shut the Artisian up, making him shrink a little bit beside his massive warbot.

Salvor King

 

[Salvor King]

"Do you mind?"
"That rug is vintage, circa 60 ABY on the old calendar." ​

King turned his nose up, squinting from behind his shades. Kicking them backward against the floor in slow motions, two booted feet wiped against the rug one after the other. The scraping sound of durarubber on fabric filled the otherwise silent penthouse. His face remained a harsh deadpan, eyes presumably pointed at the pale individual behind the obscurity of his lenses.

King stepped off the rug, kicking the corner of it over. Turning his back on the three he began to pace slowly, nodding as he idly observed the lavish menagerie of artifacts. Fist in hand, one after the over he popped his knuckles. The TURBODUSTERS sparked on contact with one another, sending flashes of blue-white electricity through the air that fizzled after a few inches.

"No one told me there'd be three of you here," he explained in a blasé intonation. "I'm only getting paid to rough a single someone up." King pivoted an about-face on his heels, returning to face the group. "I'm gonna need a volunteer."

Lao Pak ​

 

[Lao Pak]

The Arkanian visibly flinched when the ruffian scraped his boots on his rug, eye twitching in annoyance. Lao Pak inched closer to his massive warbot, his gaze flitting between the two. Who was this long-haired maniac here for? Lao Pak surely had more than a few bounties on his head. It was a mark of pride for the Atrisian smuggler. But his boss...Or at least his boss for THIS job, the Arkanian know as Wax was notorious in the underground as a collector of illegal artifacts and treasures. Had he pissed off a buyer or a seller? Lao Pak swallowed hard.

"Well what your puck say? You have a puck right? Nooo Bounty Hunters on Corusacnt that don't got no puck. I hope its not Lao Pak. Lao Pak is verrrry busy right now s-so I don't have time for you. Go away!" Wax galred in Lao Pak's direction before snapping his fingers.

From two of the pillars in the room emerged battle droids, four each. Their single strip of a photoreceptor glowed with an antagonistic red that seemed to glare down at the three beings that stood before their master. Wait, three? Why did they have their blasters trained on him?

"A volunteer doesn't sound prudent. I'm sure your contract is with that star gutter trash over there," he gestured lazily towards Lao Pak, "So please take it outside. I have guests to entertain soon." Lao Pak's jaw dropped open. Wax started to walk away, tapping away on a small hand-sized datapad he'd taken from his pocket.

"W-w-w-what about the job! You already paid Lao Pak's fee! Well, part of it. Y-y-you do dis and I ain't giving that back! No refunds!"

"I've already canceled the credit transfer. Have a nice day." Lao Pak glared at the curly-headed pretty boy and snarled.

"You do dis!" he shouted and pointed. "No one cheat Lao Pak! Only Lao Pak cheat!" He whipped out his blaster so fast the droids didn't have a chance to respond. He blasted two in the chest.

"Oh dear," said the large warbot beside him, his voice shifting from protocol to blood-chilling killer over the span of two syllables. Its photoreceptors flashed red and its arm shot out, a blaster revealing itself tucked away beneath the armor plating. He moved between Lao Pak and the other droids and began firing, its blaster bolts sending chunks of ceramic into the air. Lao Pak turned his focus back on Curly Locks and fired his blaster.

Salvor King