Just Askin' an Assassin

[thegreatbeyonder]

Once more the pilot found himself on Coruscant, this time in the heart of one of its countless entertainment districts. The exact location happened to be a nameless club located near the corner entrance of a back alley in the sector's lower levels; inside Arian found a quiet booth, and so the contact would know who he was, he placed a small cube on the table.

The cube itself was practically worthless, nothing more than plastic, really. Yet in a place where everyone else had drinks, food, or other pleasures it stood out of place. Which is exactly what you wanted when trying to meet someone you've never seen in your life.

That said, it didn't stand out too much where it caught the attention of anyone not looking for a lone cube, only the occasional glance of a passing waiter asking Arian if he desired to purchase any food or drink.

Awful lighting, bizarre smells, and blaring music with foreign lyrics is all the courier heard, and the longer he waited the sooner he wished to leave. Alas, the man would wait... Lest he invoke the wrath of his rather mysterious employers who happen to deal in the most dangerous commodity of all: Secrets.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

The world where Laguz operated was one of shadows and half-truths, and given xir… sizeable reputation, unusual contracts weren't anything out of the ordinary. The Galaxy was a big place, and there would always be people who wanted odd things for large sums of money and technology. Information, objects, lives; these were all xir trade, and xe had no qualm dealing with any of them.

When the message had arrived, then, the mercenary was none too fazed. Instead, xe simply jotted the name and the date down on xir encrypted datapad and went on about xir business until the time came to meet up with the mysterious contact.

Coruscant, where all hyperspace routes eventually lead. Xe'd been here on many an occasion during xir lifetime, and though governments came and went, the world rarely changed much. Sometimes it was a bit more smoldering than usual, with increased security patrolling the streets, but the planet was huge. A shapeshifter slipped through well-known cracks as easily as a rat into a sewer, and just like that, xe was gone.

The destination was a club like any other, a run of the mill establishment erected to provide the masses with bland entertainment. The mercenary had visited more of these than xe cared to recount, and this time would likely prove to be no different. The only upside of the blinking lights and the loud music was that it made eavesdropping increasingly difficult.

Running a casual hand over his weaponry, Laguz would enter the place in the shape of an unassuming Devaronian, blending in with the clientele like a shadow in the night. Following the instructions contained within the message he'd received, the mercenary navigated his way amongst undulating bodies and rushing waiters, keen eyes scanning the tables against the walls for one particular item.

A sigh, a small smile, and Laguz slipped past a snogging pair of aliens without batting an eyelash, taking his seat opposite the man with the cube.

"Speak."


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"You know, it's poor manners to speak with a perfect stranger before introducing yourself."

Arian kicked his feet up on the table, revealing the blaster beneath his overcoat, and a hand reached forward and pulled back the cube which then disappeared in his pants pocket. Giving the Devaronian a quick look for anything out of the ordinary, the pilot proceeded to continue with their conversation. A small snicker crossed his lips, "The name's Arian, and I assume you're the new guy, yeah?" The casual nature of his tongue was not intended to provoke, more so than to blend in with their surroundings.

Besides, who didn't have fun messing with the new guy anyway? Doesn't matter if he's dangerous--which Arian has no knowledge of--if the guy wants a job, he's not about to look a gift Bantha in the mouth. Or so Arian assumed.

Maybe that assumption was wrong, and maybe this was the kind of guy who did it for the thrill, and not the money. Then perhaps he'd regret the words, but that's still a big maybe. Serve in a war like the one between the Republic and One Sith, and you soon learn to forego certain instincts along the way. A soldier like him, out of place and out of luck, doesn't have much time to worry about trivial matters like life or death.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

Laguz cocked his head to the side, measured the boy, and then his mouth split into a grin. With the horns and the red lighting to boot, the man looked positively devilish.

"I'm all poor manners and no class," he retorted, gaze flickering down to the feet the contact had just propped up on the table. "Which makes me think we'll get along just fine… Arian."

He leaned back in his seat, frowning as he flicked a squashed carton of cigarettes from the bench. One of the reasons why clubs like these were annoying, but what can you do? Just part of the job.

"Might be, might not be. Depends on what you're offering," the merc played coy as he crossed his arms over his chest. The jacket he'd donned earlier obscured much of his features, and so the shifter didn't bother maintaining the guise beyond the exposed parts of his body. Despite being second nature, it could get tiring, and in a place like the Coruscanti underworld, anything could happen. Best conserve your tricks for dire moments.

"Now talk, boy," he spoke before grabbing the attention of a passing waitress with the quick gesture of his hand. "A glass of blue milk."

Best keep your wits about you, too.


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"Alright, old man."

Arian waved off the waitress dismissively after she asked him if he'd desire anything himself. Rule number-one about clubs like these, don't drink anything that doesn't come sealed.

Perhaps his new colleague didn't care at all, or maybe they didn't stop to think that perhaps the establishment owner was racist to Devaronians because one killed a member of his family or something off like that. It was a rather large galaxy, and Courscant had a habit of bringing every corner together on one crime-filled planet. Something stupid was bound to happen eventually, and Arian had been careful enough he may be able to avoid that stupid something from happening to him.

Then again, he most likely over-analyzed the situation when considering that anyone out for revenge would rather feel their hands around the victim rather than doing so through poison, which is more for calculated and planned kills.

Without further delay, "you were asked to come here because there are those who believe your particular set of skills, whatever they may be, are a valuable asset to my organization. Before I continue to explain what it is we do, I need to ask you a series of questions. Comprehend?" He asked.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

The curl at the corner of his red lips persisted even through the verbal riposte. Well, at least this wasn't going to be boring.

He accepted the tall glass with a nod and took a long, indulgent sip, eyes fluttering almost closed. Not quite, though. If the man on the other side of the table had a keen enough sight, he would notice that the shifter was still peering at him through near-closed eyelids. Laguz might have worked hard on the impression of a relaxed, somewhat careless a mercenary, and… well, that's because most of the time, xe was.

Reckless, at least. Situations like these required a certain finesse to be handled correctly, and despite appearances, the current Devaronian was well possessed of it. When he wanted to be, anyway.

"Sure, boy. Ask away."


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"Alright you smirkin' son-of-a-queen, first question."

Arian became increasingly annoyed by the alien's smug attitude, and he wasn't afraid to say so.

Pulling out a datapad, he scrolled through various files until he pulled up one which contained the questionnaire. "First question: If you had in your possession, an object of high-value to a certain party, what would your first course of action be?" He asked the Devaronian.

Before he got an answer, however, the waitress tapped him on the shoulder, prompting the pilot to turn his head and glance from below to the woman's face. Without a word, she handed him a note clearly printed on some form of synthpaper. "Ignore it, and answer," he wanted to make sure his guest wasn't distracted whilst he began to read the note handed to him.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

The boy's outburst did nothing to wipe the smirk in question off his face. In fact, it could be said it did the exact opposite, and Laguz thankfully wasn't drinking, or some of the blue milk might've been spilled all over the table.

He set down the glass before the accident could transpire, the grin staying firmly in place despite the growing frown on the face of his contact. Oh, this was almost too easy.

His momentary amusement at his short fuse was quickly forgotten when they finally got down to business, however, and Laguz lofted an eyebrow at the odd question. Was that a matter of debate for some people? Strange.

"Figure out who would pay the most for the object, then sell it to the close second for an astronomical sum. Later offer to steal the object for the highest bidder at an even greater price." Plain and simple.
"Unless I had use for it, I suppose. But that's increasingly rare these days."

His eyes flickered to the waitress, scanning her outfit for anything out of the ordinary completely on instinct.

"Your daddy monitoring you, or what?"


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"Believe it or not, but it's just you and I. Not sure who you've worked for before, but only expendable people--like me--are sent to meet with new guys, like you."

Once again he glanced down to the note before crumpling it a bit as he roughly shoved it into his pocket, opposite the one where he stashed the cube from earlier.

Returning to the questionnaire, "Your answer isn't that bad, but it's two-dimensional. You assume too much from very little information. Not all things valuable can be sold, or even used--oddly enough. You don't use art for example, and some valuable things cannot be bought because no one's willing to pay. A better answer would be to identify why that certain party wanted the object, and discern from how much they'd willingly give to figure out the nature of the object." That was the nature of the first question, to see whether-or-not a straight-forward answer was to be given.

"Question number two... Which happens to be a personal favourite of mine. Given the opportunity, would you sleep with a target to extract information?" He raised a brow, almost interested in the answer.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

He snorted, a dismissive sound meant to intone just how little he thought of the man opposite him. A young whelp like him, questioning his methods? Please.

"Right," he chuckled and shook his head, taking another sip from the glass. The man's youth was clearly showing now, and Laguz realized he was somewhat annoyed that whoever was pulling the strings had seen it fit to send such a youngster to deal with his experienced self. All things in the Universe held a price. It was only a matter of whether or not you could figure it out.

But that was neither here or there, and the merc had little hope that arguing with the boy would get him anywhere. Ignorance was hard to eradicate, and in order to be successful, Laguz would have to invest much more time than what he was willing to set aside for some two-bit spacer jockey.

"Yes."


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

Arian brought a hand to his face, sighing into it as he began to rub his chin.

Bringing the hand back down to the table, and lowering the datapad in his lap, "you're really bad at this, aren't you?" He honestly seemed surprised, as if he expected more from the red devil.

"The question asked if you were given the opportunity, not stating that it was the best opportunity... No matter, those were the exact answers they were looking for. Because they want to make sure you're either too lazy or too dumb to be a threat to the organization should you defect or retire early." Despite his passive-aggressiveness, Arian failed to mention that he too answered similarly once upon a time.

Truth-be-told, he didn't mind the man too much. "Now, final question. What is your skillset anyway?" Curious to know, he asked a question that wasn't on the list... Which incidentally only contained two questions.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

This time, the shifter actually laughed out loud, his red face contorting into a genuine smile for a few seconds.

"I suppose," he grinned as his chuckles petered out, glancing at the man through half-lidded eyes. "Well played, boy, well played. Though I doubt that's all you."
He wouldn't concede victory without a final jab, no sir.

"My skillset? Oh, Anja's perky tits, they sent you in blind? That's fucking rich."

The shifter shook his head in bewilderment, leaning forward across the table as he propped himself up on one arm. The other he lifted until it hovered above his glass, dipping a single clawed digit into the blue liquid. Taking it to the table again, he slowly wrote out the distinguished name of his profession upon the matte surface, grinning all the while.

Sitting in a booth with something that could kill you in the blink of an eye and not feel terrible about it was usually rather distressing news to people. Granted, the whelp seemed to be in the employ of someone — or someones — who knew what they were doing, but that didn't necessarily transfer all the way down to Arian.

"That is my skillset," he spoke, calmly so, as if he were an accountant or a manager.


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"Huh? You'd think stealth was a requirement... I guess you blend in with red surfaces?" Despite the sarcasm, it was honestly quite off putting to be sitting across the able from an assassin.

But one thing he knew is that there's a difference between an assassin and a mercenary. A mercenary kills because they choose to, an assassin kills because they're told to. That's the difference. One was a gun fore hire and the other a calculated killer. To be honest, he'd take an assassin over a merc any day of a the week.

Then again, that was assuming he couldn't be both. If Arian knew that were the case, he might've felt something else about the situation.

Nonetheless, the man had passed their little test... "The name of this organization is the Couriers, but we operate officially as InterGalactic Exports. Except we don't transfer parcels, money, or anything like that... We deal specifically in secrets, knowledge, and anything too dangerous for regular folk to handle themselves. Our goal is to take from those who'd hoard such things, and to carefully introduce it to said regular folk." He explained in short the nature of his employer.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

There came no reply to his quip, save for a patronizing smile. There, there, his current expression spoke as he regarded the boy with mild amusement etched into his Devaronian features. The naivete was strong in this one, and Laguz almost felt bad for introducing him to the harsh truth so very bluntly.

Almost.

"The Couriers," the merc repeated in a low tone, his eyes never moving away from the contact as he mulled over the word. No familiar tingles int he back of his mind, no bells ringing in the distance. That alone was impressive, and coupled with the… crafty set of questions, Laguz was willing to give them a test ride.

"Information brokers of a different sort, are you? I can work with that." Oh, could he ever. The most intanglible of currencies that the seedy underbelly of the Galaxy knew, and yet the most lucrative of all. Well, provided you were planning to turn a profit dealing with it, which didn't seem to be up these guys' alley.

"If you lot are so dead-set on spreading enlightenment, what use do you have for a," well, 'killer' would still draw the unwanted attention of the passersby, and in a place like this you could never be sure who was listening, "cleaner?"


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"You don't set the course of the future without leaving a few bodies along the way," and that was the hard truth.

He didn't mean it to sound like an intimidation tactic, like the Couriers were this force to be reckoned with. More that there were times when despicable acts became necessary in order to fuel progress. That in itself, however, was purely conjecture in that he himself had absolutely no idea why they needed the alien standing before him.

That wasn't to say he didn't have a good idea as to why they'd want an assassin, which is why he wasn't entirely surprised by the man's apparent occupation.

"That being said, if you're in I'm curious in taking you on a little milk run..."

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

"Ah, there we go," he grinned, nodding knowingly. Not so enlightened after all.

"Well, my services are always available for a price, my dear boy. But it's not something everyone can afford. If your employers are as influnetial as you make them out to be, I'm sure we could come to some sort of arrangement." He narrowed his eyes briefly at the contact and drummed his clawed fingers on the table, smearing the damning word with a few well placed flicks of the wrist.

"As the case may be, my current long-term contract is… coming to an end." Is that what you call it when your employer croaks on their bed? "Which you probably know, and that is why I'm here."

"As for that milk run… what did you have in mind?"


[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"There's something we need. The Republic has recently lost much of its footholds, and on one of its former worlds lies a vault containing military secrets. As you may know, long ago in this very space was the Galactic Empire.. And I'm not talking all the startups who claim that name, this was the real deal... Over seventy million worlds and counting. Supposedly they had an abundance of secret weapons, and that the Republic's too afraid to use them; so they locked 'em up."

That was the full explanation, but he did conveniently leave out the name of this supposed location. "I will fly you to this facility, and you will do whatever it takes to extract what information remains. There shouldn't be any resistance, intel suggests it's likely abandoned anyway..." Arian knew that intel wasn't always right, however, as he himself has been in a few close calls recently.

Sometimes he wonders if they do this on purpose just to test him.

[member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

"I… vaguely remember something on the topic, yeah," xe waved his hand dismissively, maintaining the air of arrogance while scouring his memory for the related information. Contrary to xir appearances, the shifter was a veritable goldmine of information, and xe liked to think that in xir many years of prowling the various strata of galactic society, xe'd learned more than enough to pay for a comfortable life until xe finally croaked.

But where was the fun in lying around on your very own planet? Laguz needed excitement and speed in xir life, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring a fresh dose of that into the recent routine of Saeva jobs. Breaking and entering could only sustain you for so long.

"And where might this facility be?" xe inquired with a raised brow when [member="Arian Lenar"] wrapped up his quick, informal briefing. There were a few uncomfortably large holes gaping in that little story of his, but the merc was used to working in less than favorable conditions. Given how this meeting had gone so far, xe wouldn't put it beyond the folks running this show that this was in fact merely another elaborate ploy to test xir capabilities, but honestly, xe couldn't blame them.

There were countless fakes and pretenders running amok these days, and if you wanted the real deal, you better make sure to test 'em out.

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

"Does it really matter? Arian quipped, standing up and swinging his jacket over his back, tossing a few credits on the table as a tip for the waitress; despite having never ordered a drink.

Before he waltzed out of the establishment, he scanned the room, searching through the crowds of people masked by dancing lights and artificial smoke rising from the stages. Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, the courier looked back to [member="Laguz Vald"], "let's go, you'll find out when we get there," he began to walk towards the exit.

Places like these were almost always filled with low lives, which is why organizations like the one he was apart of had a habit of frequenting them for meetings and such. Yet at the same time, that inconspicuous cover was just as suitable for spies and agents of opposing ideologies or organizations which have beef with the Couriers. When your trade was information, you could make as many enemies as you could friends, and often that meant former friends turning villain too when you find out the wrong facts at the wrong time.

Although that was all beyond what Arian was meant for, it didn't mean he wasn't going to be cautious about any potential followers trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

 

[Laguz Vald]

Laguz arched an eyebrow at the lip, mirroring his actions as xe stood up as well. Of course it bloody well mattered!

"I don't like this," xe stated calmly, and for the first time, the cool intelligence surfaced through the dumb guise xe'd been wearing since they'd first spoken. A calculative edge in that gaze would bore into the back of [member="Arian Lenar"], though it was doubtful the man would notice in the loud and stuffy environment of the club. Sweat, smells, and flashing lights all had a tendency to hide the intricacies of sentient interaction in their numbing overabundance.

One of the reasons why meetings like these happened in places just like this one. You wanted to do all you could to make an assassin just a bit slower. Because sometimes, that second was enough to get out alive, and it was a second you wouldn't have otherwise.

Smart man.

"Start talking, boy," xe was curt as he tailed flush on his heels, hot breath spilling down his neck. No reprieve.