More Toys for James' Girls and Boys

[James Justice]

"Chug, chug, chug, chug," the crowd chanted.

James' lips had locked around the clear tube, he lay back against the bar as the barkeep held the large plasteel container overhead. His throat gulped down the intoxicating beverage with all his might, as his stomach threatened to burst. As the owner of the Angel's Den nightclub on Soceras, the alcohol was free for him. As the spacer he was, he had a reputation to uphold. And as the man he was, he had a bet to settle.

"Chug, chug, chug."

Almost there.

"Chug, chug, chug, chug."

The Zabrak on the other side of the bar was looking nervous. He had a lot riding on this. His beloved heavy freighter to be specific. James felt a murmur of pleasure. Never challenge a half Zeltron. Especially one who has a history of heavy drinking.

"Chug, chug, chug!" the crowds fervor was reaching a destructive effect, their chant breaking apart into shouts, screams, and high-fives.

The last of the golden liquid slid into James' stomach, and the crowd went wild. James sat up, slightly woozy and wiped his lips off on his fore arm. He gave the Zabrak a wry smile and held his hand out. The being unwillingly released the keys to his YT-1200. A bet was a bet, after all. James tossed it in the air with a chuckle before pocketing them. He would park it between his private yachts. It was a good day to be him.

One of the bouncer handed James his leather jacket, the spacer slapped him on the back, "Thanks, mate."

His wrist comm pinged, reminding him of his meeting. Right. A meeting over--he shook his head. Weapons, right. Weapons. He always needed more for his army and if this contract went right, like he felt it would, everyone would win. He might even pass the name along to some of his other buyers and movers.

His genetic history let James walk in a semi-strait line as he made his way to his office in the upper reaches of the Angel's Den. He was half Zeltron after all, he was more than able to handle his liquor. Besides that he did have a history of walking around drunk everywhere. He shook his head remembering the time he ran a blockade drunk. Too drunk, even for him.

The spacer sat at the lounge that was serving as his office today and pressed his wrist comm, "Send em in when your ready, mate."

[member="Menka Guga"]

 

[Menka Guga]

[member="James Justice"]


Menka strolled in as she was escorted by the man that James asked to send her in with, while having two of her UUD droids walking with her that were holding two of the rifles of the kind James was going to buy, which she demanded to have come with her. Maybe something of an advertisement, but more for her protection, she hated being in this part of space, and for her gender and age, this was not a good place to be, at all. She's seen James before, it wasn't like he hadn't been trying to be a big hit star throughout the galaxy for awhile now. So when she walked in and saw him, she made a bee-line straight to him, but she didn't seem all that cheery. Whether it was because she was horribly afraid of the place she was in, or doing business with this personality wasn't very pleasing, was entirely unknown, but it would become an apparent fact she hated this place.


When she reaches James she sat down at the table, "I'm Menka, from Rogueworks Drives... I think I was contacted by one of your members for a bulk order of little probe droids and a couple hundred of my Rogue Rifles," hinting at one of her droids to show off the weapon, but reluctant in handing it over if James wanted to check it out.

 

[James Justice]

James fished a cigarette from his pocket as the tentative female made her way into the lounge. As she spoke he lit the tobacco and began filling the air with a haze of smoke. He nodded, that was right. He hadn't officially sanctioned the order personally, however he wasn't opposed to it. They always needed and wanted more orders for weapons and droids. The spacer gave one of his winning smiles as he offered her a cigarette; time to get down to business.

"I believe business should be a simple equation," he said waving his hand, "I want money, ye want money, and there be no reason we can't both make money together."

He gave a chuckle before making a puff from his cigarette. Sure, his business model was deceptively simple. But it worked. He was quickly becoming one of the biggest criminal masters in the galaxy with it, having distribution contracts with three other weapons manufacturers. Did he NEED this one? No, in fact it was pocket change. To be fair, he was loosing money by even having this meeting instead of meeting with someone much larger. But, he felt that watering seeds and doing good deeds did pay off. And now would be one of them.

"Offer is simple," he continued, "I buy weapons. You let me move ye goods for ye. I run them on time, and wherever they need to go. I give ye the standard 15% discount on all things, including guards to train for ye, soldiers to train for ye, our shipping services, and of course, I can add ye to my list of contacts next time someone asks for weapons."

[member="Menka Guga"]

 

[Menka Guga]

[member="James Justice"]


Menka held her breath at some points and barely breathed with the smoke in the room, she did not want to have to pull out her weird breathing tool for everyone here to see, especially during a meeting, seriously rejecting the offer of a smoke, swiftly covering her mouth. "Well, I'm not much interested in money, to be honest. Most of my buyers tend to give me salvage, which I work into more products. I don't really lose anything. And sometimes they give me free stuff or even a place to set up shop so they can get more. And I don't really have illegal goods, I mean sure, I make weapons. But they've been marked as 'not special,' so I don't feel I'll have any hard officials come knocking. Although, it isn't low-quality. These rifles are the best I could make for the standard, for what I have, unlike my droids. You're making waves around the galaxy, I'm sure you've hit some ships or vehicles along the way? You could just give me coordinates of a known wreckage I can salvage. If it's big enough, I'll have it cover the manufacturing costs.

 

[James Justice]

James waved it. If someone wanted to clean up his mess, he would be good with that.

"Done," He said with a nod. His finger stretched out to a nearby droid.

It knew what that meant. The metallic servant marched forward and handed over a bottle of ale to its master. James dismissed it with a nod before offering it to his guest. It was rude, after all, to not cater to those under your roof; this was his greatest amenity.

He shrugged, "The offer still be out there for the nexus. Whether ye be thinking what ye have is good or not is good, I know quite a few civilians on worlds that would take these. Partially because of local laws. Partially because they are desperate for weapons. And a few cause the price would be right. After all, the blaster ye can afford and use, be the best kinda blaster."

He leaned back, "Places I dun't have right now. I have a warehouse, bug un' but not the type ye can partake in. The rest belongs to others so I can't exactly give it to ye. That place be packed to the gills, but," he waved a guard over.

"Yes sir?"

"Tell Ballox his rent is due. When he pays, kill him, set his slaves free, and envelop what is left of his operation."

"Yes, sir."

The Spacer smiled back at Menga, "What do ye know? The city just had a vacancy. And at a good price too."

[member="Menka Guga"]

 

[Menka Guga]

[member="James Justice"]


She also rejected on the offered Ale, "I'm sorry, I have some medical conditions that prevent me from doing that stuff," she said, referencing the smoke and drinks. She was happy with the contract being made, but her smile soon left her as she heard what the man had ordered, to kill the warehouse owner and give it to her. "Look, I know how it is as a small business. I work with some criminal organizations, some under the rug deals, along with major corporations and companies. But I have to say, I don't like that. I don't like what I'm hearing. It's none of my business, of course, but don't do that right in front of me if we do business again. I'm not making demands, but if you can't wait until I'm gone to give me some murdered mans property, or find a better way to get me something, we don't need to do business again. I'm sorry, but I started my business up to almost really prevent that sort of thing." She sighed, pulling her hand up to rub her forehead, knowing she had to do what she had to do. "This time, I'll accept it. If there's enough salvage and supplies in the warehouse, I'll throw in bonus weapons that you can do whatever you want with. But in order for me to be okay with this deal, the original bulk order of weapons has to go to that medical corp, or whatever was mentioned. I don't want them used in raids or murder."

 

[James Justice]

There were so many things wrong with that statement, it was practically a deal breaker in itself. James weighed his options; to cut it off now, or give them a second chance? He took a swig from the ale to buy him time as he decided. He was a man of second chances. But not thirds or fourths.

"First off," he began, "Don't tell me what to do with my company. Or what to do with things when I buy 'em for me company. Second, the Med Corps have evolved to be the most vigilant, pugilistic, spec-ops portion of me business. They operate out six of the most dangerously armed vessels in me navy, kill more than me guards and grunts. They be over six teen hundred specially trained clones to kill without remorse not doctors with syringes. If ye dun't want ye weapons used to kill people in raids and murders why are ye making weapons then?" It was a rhetorical question, of course, but a valid one.

"Third," he enumerated with a wave of his hand, "he's a slaver. Used him to route out slaves in this city; its a problem I still be working on. If ye don't like how I do business I got a simple solution for ye; go out and find someone else who will buy ye rifles and distribute 'em.

"Now," he said changing tones from warning to warmth, "if we have an understanding here, and if ye are ok with those terms of agreements, we can shake and do business."

[member="Menka Guga"]

 

[Menka Guga]

[member="James Justice"]


Menka stood from her seat quite quickly with an upset face, "When you make negotiations, usually you have to bite your tongue and accept a ruling for the better, even if you don't like it. Just as you're forcing me to in that corner. A lot of weapons aren't used for outright murder, many medical corps use them to defend themselves, and not act as frontline soldiers for war. Combat Medics are somethings different, but I still feel a medic shouldn't have to resort to that, they should try and save more lives than take. Now, what you're saying is this isn't a medical corps, this is a special forces group? My rifles aren't very suited for that, they are bulky and heavy, and I am willing to bet you can either make better ones more suited to their actions, or buy better ones since you're so high and mighty." Menka took a breath of air and stepped away from the table to clear her head.

"Slaver or not, you're still not doing the galaxy any better by doing the same, and that is not an argument that he should serve justice. But it is true there's no more trust around anymore, and the way you make business, I'm sure I'm going to get bit no matter what I do. I already said it's none of my business, but there's no reason you can't show some common decency. Now, if you agree to trade Salvage for weapons and droids, that will be the deal. If you really want a shop of mine here, I'll drop off a few droids and let them set the place up, but I don't want them touched or the warehouse touched. No distribution."

 

[James Justice]

He could sit here and explain to her that in the Outer Rim there were no moral high grounds. He could sit here and explain that might makes right. He could explain that in this city there were no police, only crimelord and their goons. Was he one? By definition, yes. He was the crimelord now. But he was the type to route out crimes worse than gun running and spice dealing and hand out bread to the poor, giving them jobs. He frankly didn't give two karks about what this girl thought about morality and high grounds. He didn't give half a rat's arse about what anyone thought. He was the people's criminal. Always was, always would be.

He could sit here and spend several hours relaying how the founder of the Medical Corps didn't seek to take doctors and turn them into soldiers, but ultimately had given up and decided to slaughter thousands with them. He could relay how he had fought to stop her, how he posted a half a million dollar bounty on her head, and many many more things he had done to stop the madness. But frankly, he didn't care. If this being wanted to believe that the Medic Corps were doctors, despite him explicitly conferring their totally opposite nature otherwise a few moments ago, well it wasn't his problem.

"For someone who was a slave, ye sure do have a lot of sympathy for those who sell slaves," he said with casual indifference. "We could sit here and debate whether its more ethical to kill a slaver and a serial sex offender or to strait up let him continue on his way. And whether that would be considered cold blood or not. Frankly, I dun't care. And I never will," he waved his hand, "Ye wanna forgo distribution, that's ye choice. But its going to cut some serious creds ye could make, other buyers I could refer ye to," he shrugged. Again; he didn't care. It wasn't his problem.

[member="Menka Guga"]

 

[Menka Guga]

[member="James Justice"]


"I'm not here to debate ethics at all, and I don't care what you think I say, it's what I am saying that matters. You know why crimelords give loans? Because they trust people. You know why why they trust them? Because they like the person, that or because they expect they'll make a profit, and they trust the person will make the necessary credits back. Like I said, I'm not arguing justice at all. But I would take you bringing an innocent or a criminal into our meeting and shooting them in the head as rude and maybe even an insult. I get the impression that you think this is the best I'll get. On that note, I won't sit here and argue, I hate being in this place and I don't feel you're the type to listen to reason. So either we have a deal, or we don't." Menka can seem to be stand off-ish with the individual before her, but she didn't know him. The most she knew were the rumors, and how he has acted here today. He wasn't turning out to be the kind of person she could be friends with, but he was right. This was his world. And she didn't like his world. The reason for keeping her here wasn't credits, benefits, or advantages, it was the simple fact of helping people. Not of a moral code, but because if she had excess, and she didn't lose anything, why not? The only problem being the man already admitted he could get better, and he's probably losing on this deal anyway. So she had no other reason to be here.

She stuck out her hand, ready for a handshake if the man still wanted the deal. But there was nothing more to talk about.

 

[James Justice]

James looked at what was left of his cigarette. It had burned down to the stub. He flicked it away into an ash bin with a sense of disgust. What a waste, much like this meeting.

"We don't," he said. "Ye be this ornery over a simple shipment of guns, I dun't want to do a deal with ye. And I doubt anyone else would want to either. A word to the wise; dun't tell those ye are working with; especially those who own at least four times as much as ye do, have a mass of followers, and ties across the galaxy that they don't listen to reason. Or why they do what they do. Or how to do what they do. Ye will never get anywhere with that attitude."

He looked to his guards behind him, "She hates being here, please make sure she gets to her ship safely."

He shook his head and fished a new cigarette from his pocket. With that kind of attitude it was no wonder all her employees were droids and her business was relegated to the fringe.

[member="Menka Guga"]