If Our Lives Have A Price, You Can't Afford It

[AvRe]

[SIZE=9pt]The galaxy was changing… no one could deny it. Empires rose and fell, people died, and somehow The Corporate Protectorate had survived longer than most would have expected. I won’t lie, The Protectorate has dug themselves into hole that they would have to crawl out of. They were crippled after taking Selvaris and Recee, but they’ll survive. At least, that’s what they think. The thing about the galaxy is you’ll always have enemies to deal with. At first there barely noticeable but after a while they’ll become a real threat. And after taking Recee and killing all those pirates, they have a threat that they will see every time they open their eyes. Let me put it into more understandable words. Some of those pirates escaped that battle, some of the pirates that escaped told the rest of their crew what happened. Oh, they were furious after hearing what had happened to their coozy little planet. So they put a bounty on our dear heroes. And now my friends, let the story begin.[/SIZE]

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[SIZE=9pt]Blood was spilled all over the floor. Avery didn’t made, he was used to it. Avery had been making his way to the coruscant lower levels on one of his black market trips, as he usually did. When a man, who had been in a crowd, pulled a blaster out and pointed it at Avery. Avery was quick to react, using the Force to pull the man’s blaster from his hand, then slicing it off with one of his blades. The man died quickly, either of shock or blood loss. But that wasn’t what was interesting about the encounter. What was interesting about all this was what the man had on him. It was a bounty, one that said the following:[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Any and all people looking for money, this bounty is for y0u. We will pay for 10,000 credits, for each of the Corporate Protectorate officials.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=9pt]There was then a list of notable people in the Protectorate. Avery folded the piece of paper and put into his coat. He then walked off, back to where his ship had landed. Avery needed to inform the others of what he had discovered, this was important and they needed to kn0w.[/SIZE]

[member="Ari Zanareth"] - [member="Cypher Rage"] - [member="Nexus Krae"] - [member="Fireson V'Trechen"] - [member="Chris Walker"] - [member="Credius Nargath"]

 

[Fireson V'Trechen]

Fireson had appeared as a hologram in the ships's conference room. He felt like something was nagging at him, so he decided to call [member="Avery Regailis"] . Fireson has a knack when he feels like something big was gonna happen.

"Avery," said Fireson. "Are you there? I think that we need to talk about something. What is happening right now? Are you there?" Fireson stood waiting for a reply.

[member="Avery Regailis"]

 

[Ari Zanareth]

[member="Avery Regailis"]

OFFICE
GOVERNMENT HALL; XA FEL

After their expansion at Selvaris and Recee the Corporate Protectorate had needed a moment to rest.

Ari had returned to Xa fel and supervised the construction of two Bases on both of their original worlds. She was reading over intelligence reports and diplomatic cables when the call came in. She set down her whiskey and checked her wrist pad for caller ID.

It was Avery.

Odd.​

She thumbed the button, casting the call to her desk terminal and grabbed the glass again. The amber liquid swirled around and she kicked back a shot or two.

"Magistrate Regailis? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

 

[Credius]

It had been rough, reorganizing the entire corporate structure of what he determined to be the beginning of his financial empire, the foundation for the vision he had for both himself and all those that would kneel before him. Meetings with the various executives of the Eriadu Manufacturing shipyards, several conference calls with his brother and the other stakeholders in his company and assets, effectively terminating most of their roles and their say in the matter. The marquis remembered how Lady Zanareth mentioned the staunch belief of the Corporate Portectorate in ruthless pragmatism, smiling at the idea that that very same thing had driven him to design a more streamlined and efficient way of controlling his wealth and the expansion of his assets through the newly christened Nargath Holdings.

It was when he was standing in the Nargath Palace's courtyard, enjoying the calmness of the weather and the tranquility of the gardens, that his attuned senses through the force could hear the ragged, nervous breathing of an individual in his vicinity. Slowly closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, Credius further enhanced his mental state, to pinpoint the location of where the breathing came from. Then it came, a shot was fired and coursed through the air at lightning speed from quite some distance, yet when the plasmabolt reached the marquis, it stopped right behind him, stuck frozen in the air, but a few inches away from the marquis' head. With a grin upon his visage, the man turned around and looked at the bolt in front of him, taking a step to the side before allowing the plasmabolt to continue its path.

His senses told him that this little show of force was enough to momentarily halt the breathing of the one responsible for firing the plasmabolt, followed by a panicked, sharp inhale, signifying that the one who took the shot was most likely preparing to run in an attempt to escape. Without showing as much as a drop of sweat or fear, the marquis simply grinned viciously, showing that even the visage of the most humane human, could hide the most inhumane monster. "North Tower, seventh floor, western corridor, room twelve," It was spoken in an unnaturally calm tone, a directive plain and simple to send the guards at the place where he sensed his assailant.

It didn't take him long to reach the particular room in which the bounty hunter had managed to hide. Though Credius did somewhat wonder how this man was able to bypass security, the fact that it was a Thrandosian hunter did make the answer easier, he didn't sneak his way in, he killed his way in, which was quite a feat in the marquis' eyes. Credius looked at the man, three guards around him holding the blades of their vibropikes at his throat and neck, forcing the thrandosian to stay standing up straight while his rifle lay on the bed in the room. "Leave us," The words came like spitting venom out of his mouth, the guards nodding, removing their pikes from the thrandosian's neck and throat and leaving the room and their master behind. "Speak...who, what, why and how much?"

The thrandosian hardly reacted, looking at his rifle and than at Credius, letting out a hurtled chuckle. After all, as long as Credius maintained his mask and cloaked his power, he'd be no more than a somewhat tall and athletic looking human to another man's eyes. However, the bounty hunter was a Thrandosian, born hunters, bred warriors, superior in almost every aspect in comparison to the average human...one thing which the marquis was NOT.

In but a flash, the Thrandosian had managed to jump towards the rifle, switched off the safety and reloaded the energy pack in but an instant. Yet, in that very same instant, the Marquis had taken two steps aside, swirling around the bedposts to avoid the aim of the rifle before suddenly forcing his hand against the thrandosian's face. "Pity..." Without warning and without any indication of what would happen, tendrils of black lightning swirled through the room, cutting through everything in their path and instantly, completely incinerating the Thrandosian bounty hunter. "You might have been a fine employee."

Turning his eye to a bag near the room's window, Credius could find a somewhat singed datapad, containing a missive which simply read:

Any and all people looking for money, this bounty is for y0u. We will pay for 10,000 credits, for each of the Corporate Protectorate officials.​

​

Letting out a chuckle, the marquis looked at the missive and rubbed his chin with the index finger and thumb of his right hand, feeling that he had dropped his mask, as his eyes were burning crimson, his skin had turned into a tapestry of blue veins and cracks upon a porcelain-white skin. Letting out a sigh, Credius raised his hand in front of his face, molding back his features to how he wished to be perceived by those around him, unaware of his true self. Walking out of the room, the marquis eventually found himself all the way on the other side of the palace, sitting in a large leather chair behind his worryck wooden desk, holding the datapad in his hand, when a call came through, a call from almost half a galaxy away, within the deep core. It was not a designated code he recognized, but too curious to dismiss the call, he allowed security to patch it through to his study. "Commander Regailis, I reckon we have similar issues...."​

​

[member="Avery Regailis"] [member="Fireson V'Trechen"] [member="Ari Zanareth"]​

 

[BobertEZ]

The Heretic, Silver Scar, often shortened to just Scar, inwardly sighed as he listened to the Imperial officer that spoke to him from across the table in the cantina. It wasn't the first story he's told, nor does it look like it would be the last. Unless he could find a way to leave without angering him, that is. Unfortunately, when an officer prattled on, anything to dismiss them could be taken as an insult. He was just happy that he had his helmet on so he could scowl in peace.

Several tables away, his current mark - some 'important' noble's brother - rose from his table and began to make his way towards the exit. Really, he could have been doing much more luxurious jobs at that point in time, but this helped build up the whole 'Public Relations' thing that Hunters needed to maintain. Plus, it never hurt to grab a drink every now and again.

Consequences be damned, I've gotta go, he thought, tensing to move. Something in his posture must have alerted the officer speaking to him, however, as he watched his brow furrow and his tone take on an irritated quality.

"You're not even paying attention to me, are you worm?" he asked arrogantly.

Scar merely cocked his head as he stood. "Not particularly, might want to work on your posturing though. People like myself enjoy hearing more about themselves, you know," he replied as he walked past, patting the officer's cheek as he left. The pat must have done something to shock the man, as he blinked instead of getting up to follow him.

The Heretic moved through the throng of people, hand on his blaster, and eventually found himself leaving the cantina, only to run directly into a large Pureblood that looked to hold some lower position or another, if her robes were anything to go off of.

"Watch it, hunter. I've killed for less," she growled before turning back around.

Removing his hand from one of his blasters, Silver Scar mentally shrugged as he returned his attention to his mark. Or rather, where he last saw him.

"I'm not getting paid enough for this," the Heretic sighed. "Time to start searching. Again."

​Nearly an hour passed with lackadaisical searching, ending with an unceremonious cornering of the mark in an alleyway while he was soliciting a local lady of the night. A few blaster rounds into the chest and skull of the noble, along with a generous tip to the lady of the night, marked the finalization of a most boring hunt.

"Should head back to Empire territory proper," Scar muttered to himself as he began the process of cutting off the man's head to turn in for payment. "This fringe...activity...is...entirely...wasted on...me."

The noble's head eventually parted from his body and was stuffed into a cloth bag that the hunter hooked onto their belt. It was a unnecessary hunt, entirely worthless as it only paid a few thousand credits, and the chances of it actually building the "Public Relations" were next to none. Silver Scar was an assassin, and a damned good one at that, but not one many openly associate with. Perhaps that was his one fault.

It was likely his own fault.

As the hunter made his speedy return to the hangar where his ship rested, he thought about all the jobs he had done in his life, trying to rank which ones were best and which ones were worst. This one was one of the worst he had taken on, but at least it paid a smidgen of his normal asking price.

Getting through hangar security with the bag proved troublesome and resulted in the hunter having to quickly incapacitate the trio of guards that attempted to search his bag. The subsequent take off and leaving of the backwater planet gave Silver Scar something he could call joy. The hunter expected the day's events to end then and there and was pleasantly surprised when his job board began chirping as he placed the head into storage for eventual deposit.

A few button presses and key swiped brought the missive to display: Any and all people looking for money, this bounty is for you. We will pay for 10,000 credits, for each of the Corporate Protectorate officials.

The hunter chuckled somewhat at the words. 10,00 credits per head. While it wasn't a lot of money, it was still more reasonable than the two to three thousand he would get from the previous mark. Plus, the Corporate Protectorate being the targets peaked his interest as it was a recent power, daring to rise against the prestigious Jedi Order and the bloody Sith Empire. How lovely would it be to send them down to obscurity once more?

The list of names went on and on, each one more interesting than the last. Perhaps, after months of stagnation, The Heretic had found a job worthy of his skills. He would have to investigate the names, locate contacts, family members, associates, previous locations, homes, bank accounts. All of which he could do. All of which he would do. He was The Silent Killer, Grey Skull, The Heretic. He was Silver Scar.

And they would fear his name.

[member="Credius Nargath"] | [member="Ari Zanareth"] | [member="Fireson V'Trechen"] | [member="Avery Regailis"]​