Life in the Private Sector [Open]

[Arik Andees]

DESERVO

Daylight barely stole a glimmer through the auto-tint windows of a rented out office space directly above a Sanatizer ran by a older couple that had been on Deservo for many years. A planet where swamp land was not hard to come by, and the various peppered locations of an urban sprawl were less common than marshes and bogs. Sanitation was a big industry on the planet with all the stains and fumes that could permeate even the most resilient of clothing. Utilizing a well known molecular cleaning process that would clean right down to the very cellular level. The business upstairs was not so well known, nor had it been around as long as the elderly couple had kept their family venture thriving. While he seemed to manage the rent (which occasionally meant doing some odd jobs for the couple), he didn't have much in the way of luxury or even consistent work.

Building your business as an infochant wasn't all glitz and glitterstim -- though it certainly didn't hurt to take the edge off. A single work in couch rested against the south wall, while a meager desk and chair fashioned into what could be called a work station. Not much more than a fan to circulate the air, and a holo-emitter in the corner to catch some news worthy snippets on the holonet broadcasts. Currently a stack of folders containing various flimsi records seemed to be serving no other purpose than to keep the desk pressed against the floor as if gravity had taken the week off. There was another addition to this desk that wasn't always decorating it's surface in such a manner.

Arik Andees, a man that was once a name respected by the whole of Corsec, serving the governmental security force of the planet Corellia for nigh onto ten years. He had earned stripes enough to be decorated as a Lieutenant and then some. He had his eyes on the prize, and was a faithful and diligent leader in the prime of his life. This version however was a far cry from the military lifestyle - more aptly coined as washed up by the looks of him. Stubble riddled his jawline, his hair disheveled from passing out over his desk. It had only been a few hours, but he'd finally reached his breaking point while doing some more research. Those pesky rays of sunlight hit just the right spot, slicing through the auto-blinds and drawing a beam of golden light right onto Arik's closed lids. Twitches of muscles reacting to the bright light slowly brought the man out of his minute bit of rest.

The heavy bags under his eyes showing that it certainly was not long enough for him to actually be fully recharged. Andees hadn't been living on natural rejuvenation for a while, instead he'd opted for a far more artificial brand - and it was namely any version of stimcaf that kept him awake and mobile. A low groan of exhausted annoyance came from between divorced lips while he levered his body to slide from his desk and rise to shove himself back against the chair. A trio of Pazaak cards stuck fast to his cheek from a case he'd been working on out on Vorzyd V. Peeling each one off slowly, and tossing them to his desk, he gave a shake of his head to jostle his cognitive functions and rubbed his weary eyes to try and jolt some reason back into his waking mind.

"Yme." He murmured incoherently expecting the sound of something in his office to respond back. For a few more seconds, he waited as silence reigned, and his brows creased. "Nek, take it." A low grumble in his throat before his hands parted and his words became far more crisp. "Time." The holographic display on his desk chipped back in response, echoing the current standard time of both the Galaxy, and Deservo, which promoted a wide-eyed reaction. "Poodoo..." He was already late, so he knew rushing was just out of the question. Kicking back from his chair, his hand gravitated towards an empty flask that was not as thin as most, but was far more surly in nature. If there was one thing that was always on point in this ramshackle of an office, it was certainly that ever-present aroma of stimcaf that was on hand whenever he needed a pick-me-up (which was quite often). "Sleep when I'm dead, gotta stop using that line." Another phrase to no one as he crossed the room and filled up his totable thermos, though not before taking a sip of the good stuff and letting the stimulants hit his system.

"Let's see which poor unfortunate soul needs some answers today." Arik said with a tone not at all overly enthused, and yet there was a hint of determination in his voice as he lifted the compact datapad from his desk and grabbed his black longcoat for a trip to meet a new potential client. Some didn't want to visit the offices, as Deservo was not always in the easiest of access to certain sentients. A quick glance around, and Arik was out the door and on assignment, looking for the next tale in a Galaxy full of mysteries to be uncovered.

​

 

[Chevu Visz]

Absently toying with his business card, Jorda Ulluto waited in a Deservo bar, anticipating her rendezvous with a man she'd hired, an infochant named [member="Arik Andees"]. The Zeltron was dressed in a sharp black suit, with her raven hair tied back in a slick ponytail. Large dark glasses hid her eyes. Since her usual wardrobe brought to mind the phrase "less is more," this was as close as Jorda came to wearing a disguise. She still wore signature scandalously-high heels.

She had a special job for Andees. One she hoped the detective wouldn't balk at, as the others had. She crossed one leg over the other, then back again, more fidgety that usual, realizing with a smirk that she almost forgot about those phermones. She made sure that she excreted a few of those for good measure, hoping that he'd enjoy the cloud of euphoria around their table. Maybe then her assignment for Andees would go down with a spoonful of sugar.

[member="Arik Andees"]

 

[Arik Andees]

Everyone from Corsec worth their salt understood that the freelance trade was a hard road to carve out. There was no structure, no form, no official channels that were anything near established. The trade of the running man was a bad bet with a worse hand, and rare few of those breed actually made it anywhere. Arik knew that once, he harbored those same feelings while he was part of a planetary force that dated back over a thousand years. In part, he still held onto that belief, and the fact that he hadn't so much chosen this life as he fell headfirst into it. This was a means to an end for a man that was fighting tooth and nail not to hit rock bottom - and never wanting to see how close he came day in and day out to that nasty pit. It was said that once you hit bottom, looking up was your only solution - but giving up wasn't in his nature, nor was giving in. Textbook denial with this one, and it showed in the saunter and gait of his pace while he marched down the city streets. Permacrete clipped under his shoes in a healthy heel-toe staccato, though he blended with the crowd drawing his golden brown eyes back and forth through the various alleys he passed. A man of his position (lowly as it was) was on an ever present alert when it came to the things he encountered as an infochant. That may be the reason he'd already seen the three tailing him, though they might have been sloppy.

Taking a hard right down one of the abandoned alleyways, his jacket brushed along the brick facade as he turned a corner against a sharp edge, and slid a pocket knife out to jab into the mortar holding the stonework together. Scraping it back and forth added some leverage to the rectangular piece of burnished brown exterior. The three men now far behind entered the alley looking left and right. They were well dressed for casual Deservo hit-men, and he didn't peg them for regular hired muscle. A Rodian among them seemed to be the brains of the group, pointing with his elongated and scaled digit to sweep to the left, and check the fire escapes to the other. He was paired with a Null who dwarfed him and the other by a good half a meter at least, while the other rounded out the group as a Cathar. Watching the cat try and stay comfortable in a suit was almost comical with the way he walked. With the Null they stuck out like a sore thumb, and that was the first point of conflict. Arik whipped from his hidey-hole and took the Null's right hand into a firm and wrenching grip, snapping the wrist with a bit of effort by slamming the junction point against the corner of the building with an audible snap and cry of pain. A knee to the ribs was given to ensure he'd fall, before he extended his leg in snap kick to slam into the Rodian's chest and knock him back against an old and grounded speeder shell. Like the trained Lieutenant of Corsec that he used to be, the next move was a ducking under the Cathar's heavy paw, followed by a brutal brick to the head as he swung around and clocked the suited cat onto all fours by blunt force.

A momentary lapse of judgement, coupled with the boot to face shutting down the Cathar's rage into a black abyss - the shot rang out and the blaster bolt grazed his shoulder, throwing him right off course. Something incoherent in Rodese was said as a slur as the brandished pistol was held at the ready. Arik's eyes narrowed in anger as he tossed the brick right the reptilian face, only to see it go sailing passed as the armed thug dodged the tired and somewhat desperate toss. The chirped bark of another blaster shot rang out and the smoldering hole in the upper left chest cavity was visible. The Rodian stumbled, dumbstruck and fell releasing his weapon while Arik rose from his crouched position - gun in hand. The Riposte was hefted back and forth before he slug it into the holster beneath his jacket. Never leave home without a good sidearm - a lesson he'd likely never forget as it had saved him more times than not. The brick was certainly a close runner up for second place, but he'd not be retrieving it. Moving forward, Arik bent his knee directly onto the sternum of the Rodian that was gasping in pain. Drawing his hand up to the scuff of his color and pulling him a bit closer.

"That's a clean shot, and I didn't miss. You'll need to get some medical attention to that, it needs to start clotting in the next hour for you to keep the arm." He didn't care what the Rodian was trying to say, simply because he couldn't speak Rodese and slammed his fist across the man's head knocking him out cold. The small mic array on his good arm was taken into the grip, and pressed to activate with Arik's voice on the commlink. "You obviously have no idea who I am, so unless you want to start collecting more agents into your medbay, I suggest leaving me alone, of having the balls to contact me proper." The transponder was quickly cut from the source and Arik rose favoring his shoulder and started to exit the alley with the three thugs laying in various states of injury. "Bloody armatures." The Corellian whispered moving back into the crowd and checking the time-stamp on a nearby marquee. "Yup, still late."

10-15 Minutes Later

Most likely not the image that one conjured for an infochant, Arik made it to the bar well passed the time appointed, and headed directly for the liquid refreshment. Stimcaf was fine for keeping you awake, but he had enough adrenaline right now for that. What he wanted was Ale - Corellian by the looks of it. He wasn't even concerned about his contact at the moment, the stinging pain of the blaster graze was calling his attention just a bit more. The first glass was downed like a shot and he flagged over another before his form turned and his eyes shifted about looking for the woman in pink. Oh, that was clever. Zeltron - she was 'always' in pink. A small smirk touched his face as he left the bar's presence and started over towards the woman's table where she flipped that card back and forth in his clutches. How long he had made her wait, he wasn't so concerned about - rather more impressed that she had actually stayed.

"I generally try to put my best foot forward, but circumstances are conspiring." His voice etched out, not exactly a winning smile, and he looked worse for the wear than he did when he left his loft/office. "But I don't deal in excuses, and you know that." He said, taking a load off and taking another slower swig of the golden brew before he leveled his eyes on the woman. An immediate ease and release of tension coming over him thanks to the pheromones that wafted into his nostrils from her heritage. The woman of Zeltros could do a number on just about anyone breathing, and she was no exception. Though for the time being, he was rather grateful to have the balm of relaxation coursing through his veins. "What can I do for you?"

[member="Jorda Ulluto"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

Jorda leveled her eyes at the disheveled and strung out-looking infochant. Look what the Cathar dragged in, she thought to herself with a grin, unaware of just how right on the money that was. She stood up, smoothing her suit jacket and stuck out a hand for him to shake, then sat back down again. As a former Zeltros socialite, courtesy was second nature to her. She figured he already knew her name, so she'd dispense wtih too many formalities.

"Hello Mr. Arik. Let's get down to it, shall we? First, there is something I want to show you." She pulled a Datapad out of her Corellian slitterette-scaled handbag. She set the personal computer down and pressed play, a blue Hologram flickering to life on the table.

The scene was set in a cantina from the vantage point of what looked like a security Holocam. A large, menacing female Hutt, dressed in a leather corset sat on a Hoversled, her tail twitching with agitation. The Hutt was facing a Gamorrean henchman who was clutching Jorda tightly in his claws, immobilizing her. Flanking the Hutt were two other lackeys, a Weequay and a Chagrian, both nasty looking fellows. The Hutt's feline eyes flickered murderously as she addressed the Zeltron woman.

"You idiot!" bellowed the Hutt boss lady. "You are an embarrassment to this organization! Spilling drinks on a Senator." the Hutt tsked tsked. "You make Dasha look bad, pinkie!" She nodded her bulbous head towards the Chagrain. "Raani, show this girl what we do to peoples who make Dasha look like a fool. Bonsheanh tasueziuena!" Dasha the Hutt started launching into Huttese insults as the Chagrain quickly advanced on Jorda.

He took one of the Zeltron woman's hands and slowly bent her forefinger back until it snapped. Then he moved on to the next finger. And so on." Jorda snapped off the Holo, visibly distressed and not able to watch the rest. She flashed her hazel eyes at Arik and forced out a wan smile.

"Mr. Andees. That is my current employer, Dasha the Hutt. I believe that Dasha is plotting my murder, and it's not a matter of 'if,' but of 'when' and 'how'. What I would like to find out are the details, like who is going to do the hit and when her or she is planning to strike. So I can strike first."

She drummed her long lacquered nails on the table and looked at him imploringly. "Is this information you can get for me, Mr. Andees? Credits are no object, of course."

[member="Arik Andees"]

 

[Arik Andees]

Hutts - by all physical appearance they were certainly an unsightly and bulbous stain on the galaxy at large. How those rotund slugs had ever managed to worm their way into a position of feared power was probably best noted for their unscrupulous lack of morality and manners. They held no qualms in raining destruction down on anyone who crossed them, their families, their legacy, and any business enterprises. What they lacked in the ability to do their own dirty work, they made up for in a massive intellect that would rival most. A longevity that would allow them patience to plot their next move, and enough friends in low places to make things happen for the right payment, which is why they could afford to lavish themselves in dens of iniquity as the largest living targets in the room, and why no one fired a shot against them for fear of their own lives. That kind of power was the kind you couldn't buy.

A visible cringe caused Arik to shift in his seat as the holo-feed recalled the event in question. The audible crack of bones in the Zeltron's fingers was a visible and recognizable torture technique to teach a wayward employee the error of their ways. Despite it being common practice, it didn't make it any easier to watch, and thankfully he wouldn't have to as Jorda tapped the feed out and took the Corellian's attention away to her own eyes. Apparently it had been sometime since the Hutt's disagreement had come and gone, judging by the fact she wasn't still bandaged from what he assumed to be every single digit broken in callous fashion. This is why their were laws in place on Corellia, to stop senseless torture and violence like that from being the norm. The lawless state and lack of morality in other sectors though were still thriving sad as it was to say. He wasn't an official anymore though - and while he might stand up for someone in a chance encounter, he was no longer in the enforcement gig. Jorda had not called him here to report a misgiving, or the criminal behavior of the Hutts - as that would be complete rhetoric for the last few thousand years. She'd come to him for answers.

"That brand of health-care alone is going to get you ice'd. I'd suggest redoing your resumé and putting in your two weeks." He offered in a condolence fashion taking another swig of the ale from the glass clutched in his right hand. Arik wasn't actually suggesting she give the Hutts another two weeks, or even the next two seconds - it was merely a suggestion based on the word 'current' as she had phrased the nature of her employment. The breaking of fingers wasn't something he'd label as constructive criticism, and he could certainly see the ire of the Hutts being focused on the woman before him for the blunder mentioned. They'd feed a dancing Twi-lek to the Rancor for a misstep in a complicated ballet routine should they get the notion. A planned murder however meant something completely different. "Generally a pre-planned murder is near impossible to track, normally isolated in the perp's own mind. Good news is, this is a Hutt you're talking about. They never dirty their hands when it comes to non-slaves. He'll talk to someone about the deed."

That was the good news - the idea that there would be talk about removing Jorda from the galaxy in a permanent way. Strange how that was actually the better part of the information he had so far. He'd need more though, something else to go on and like always, he liked to have some credits upfront before he'd start on his way to secure that tid-bit of vital clues that would herald the coming of a death sentence to the Zeltron. Normally this would have been a job for local law enforcement, but this was a Hutt that was after her, and there wasn't a single glimmer of official capacity that were willing to tangle with the Hutts, especially on their homeworld. He half suspected he'd be making tracks towards that world soon enough to get the intel she needed. He certainly wasn't relishing that idea.

"I do have a don't ask, don't tell policy though - so as long as you don't state what you intend to do with the information, I'll give it up. Reputation is a fragile thing, and I'm not one to be caught up in a murder scandal." Again. Arik thought - since his own sordid life story was already in that way. He'd escaped that on a technicality, and though it had been ruled as an unsolved homicide, that didn't mean he hadn't stopped looking; or ever would. "Where can I find Dasha?"

[member="Jorda Ulluto"]

 

[Mincaíkk]

[member="Anka Revik"]
Mincaíkk lead his female companion through the seemingly empty streets of the Desevro entertainment sector. He was being guided by the Force, but he didn't know how or why. What was also a mystery was why it sent him to a planet so discriminate as Desevro. It was not an unsanitary planet, yet something about it wrung cautionary in the eyes of an Ewok. But there were more important things to worry about.
"Eedada thek..." Translation: Over here. He spit the words out in a short grumble that matched his character. To avoid any confusion, Mincaíkk hoisted his spear towards the East, indicating their direction.
Excited by the Force's path to unknown land, the small Ewok quickened his pace, making Anka have to catch up each jog.
Mincaíkk stopped and stared blankly at Anka, who was now trying to catch her breath. "Kra?" Translation: Ready?

 

[Chevu Visz]

Jorda hailed a cocktail wattress and ordered a whiskey. "Make it a double, hon." She needed a good stiff drink after watching that Holo. Blowing a few smoke rings from her cigarette, she exhaled deeply and smiled at Arik, an edge of relief in her hazel eyes. Someone was finally going to take the job.

"Dasha's hideout is on Teth in the Outer Rim, in the basement of her cantina." She took his hand and put something in it. A box of matches with the logo of Dasha's Roadhouse written on it, along with the address. "This is her cantina. It's VIP-only, but I can get your name on the white list. If you want to use an alias, that's fine."

She furrowed her brow. "A word of warning. I know that Hutts are hermaphroditic slugs, but make sure you treat Dasha like a lady. She considers herself to be a girly-girl."

She waved her red hand through the air. "And don't worry about what I'm going to do with the information. I'll make sure whatever it is, it won't be traced to you. If I live through this, we could help each other out. I know people. You know people. We could scratch each other's backs." She smiled sweetly. "So to speak."

"So you'll take the job?"

[member="Arik Andees"]

 

[Arik Andees]

Even within the ranks of Corsec, the Hutts were notoriously hard to gather information out of, without an agenda of their own being met. Still, if there was a way to peel out that layer of dishonest and devious of thoughts from the slug - he'd find a way if the price was right. Credits had never been something that was all too important to a man living in the wealth and affluence of a Corsec officer's lifestyle. He worked for his living, sure enough, but it wasn't like he was just scrapping by either. Things were decidedly different now - and most of the time his bleeding heart got in the way of a paycheck. Jorda wasn't playing the sad song this time around though - and the case interested him enough to consider it on merit alone. Trying to solve your murder before it happened, that was a new kind of deal that he was willing to look into. He was fairly certain that she wouldn't be getting many other offers to try and help out, which meant that Arik was either hawk-bat crazy, or completely suicidal. Himself - he just thought of it as an interesting puzzle to solve, and one that would get him by for a while since credits weren't an issue.

"You'd figure with eyes that big - they wouldn't miss the overarching detail of what a girl is not. Suppose though it comes with the bio-territory." Stated in reference to the gender delusions of a girth ridden parasite normally weighing in at a few tonnes. The matchbook was flipped back and forth between idle fingers, studying it's exterior and the font used to scrawl across the roadhouse logo. If there was one good thing to the cartel it was the amount of credits they spent on luxury and refinement. A stark contrast to their own repulsive nature, and appetite. For all the class and charm they attempted to exude, eating your food free range by biting off the head was certainly not what most would call a class act. Tracing his finger and thumb across the matches one more time, his fingers closed over the token before depositing it within his jacket pocket. "I don't have much to hide in way of names, so Arik will do for the whitelist. I will say though that bringing me in under your credentials may just speed up their time table a bit." Trying to get one over on the Hutts was a dangerous game, boarding on a favored one of kick-the-rancor. "So before I jet-set it to Teth, I'll need a stipend to hold me over. Five now, and five when you get the intel you need."

To be fairly blunt about it, Arik didn't expect her to quibble about the pricetag on this job. Her very life was on the line, and she was staring at the golden brown eyes of probably only a handful of people in this sector daft enough to tangle with the Hutts to find out their wetwork plans. You'd probably have a better time trying to talk you way out of a Sarlaac pit drop on Tatooine. The fact that she had even gotten close enough to know she was being targeted for removal was impressive, and it made his job decidedly more easier if it was already a confirmed thing. The issues Arik would face for a job like this were most pressing on the idea of the time table, and making sure that he could get the info to Jorda without her getting first hand knowledge and not being able to pay him for his efforts in full. Caring about his clients didn't come in the first five minutes, so his own less than altruistic thoughts were governing this deal at the moment. Compound that with the beating he'd just given three walk about suits, and the Corellian ale he was draining - and it was a wonder he wasn't saying these things out loud yet.

[member="Jorda Ulluto"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

Her lips tightening into a smirk, Jorda grimly pulled the retainer credits out of her handbag and handed them to the disheveled man. "I have an inside source in Dasha's organization, and he's the only person in her hornet's nest that I can trust. He will get your name on the white list and ensure that it will not be connected to me in any way."

"Thank you Mr. Andees," said Jorda with her eyes lowered, tucking a strand of jet black hair behind her ear. The Zeltron slowly got up from the table, gathering up her black fur coat, and then faced Arik, appraising him with her hazel eyes. Something told her the man would be up to the task.

"Dasha will like you, I think. And that's where the biggest problem lies."

With that she turned on her ridiculously high heels and walked towards the door, turning back only to softly say, "Please hurry."

[member="Arik Andees"]