Mother Theresa

[Aver Brand]

Casual day today. The whole gala business was now behind her, and Nadir was crawling with just a little less criminal elite.

She was glad to take to the streets again, scratched armor, no insignia – just another mercenary passing through. Her boots ground the scattered refuse into dust, step sure and long. Aver knew the shadowport like the back of her hand (once, then not for a long time, and now again). It was child’s play to find her way through the rushing currents of the crowd, each pulling their own way.

Took her to the docks every so often. There the throng thinned out a bit, crews filing out and back onboard their transports, and pirate ships, and gilded luxury yachts. If there ever was a place where the rich and poor mingled so easily, where you could step over a pile of trash, past a homeless man, and through the doors of a palace – it was here, on Point Nadir.

Her stride stilled, gauntleted fingers wrapping around the railing. It squealed a little as she leaned forward, eyes and HUD sliding over the countless levels below. People milled like ants deck over deck, eventually swallowed by the red smog. She glanced back up, gaze falling on a wide slaver barge docked two wharves over. Wait—

With an incredulous puff of breath, she zoomed in on the figure descending from the carrier after cages and chains and shuffling feet.

No karking way.

Canting her head with a grin, Aver moved to intercept a wayward [member="Darth Pyrrhus"].

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

Another day another opportunity. As per usual, Pyrrhus was working on expanding his influence through his very own slave company. Handy that, serving many a function. Today had taken the Sith Lord to Point Nadir, a location his contacts assured would be an excellent point for him to expand his business. So it was told, and so the Karazak Slavers Cooperative arrived. Now to find out who was in charge over here. Judging by the rumours, no simple task. However Pyrrhus had no issue with having multiple clients. Simply meant more people willing to buy his wares, and perhaps share what news they had learned from their corner of the galaxy.

To this point Pyrrhus had been unaware of the approaching [member="Aver Brand"]. Even if he had he would hardly have recognised her. What he was about to interpret as a first encounter was closer to a reunion. Funny that. The Force worked in mysterious ways. "Go, Kregan. See what you can learn of this place. Report when you have anything worth reporting." You'd think you wouldn't have to spell it out, but you'd be surprised. Kids these days. The Zabrak Kregan Fash bowed and took his leave.

 

[Aver Brand]

To an outside observer, it might almost appear like a coordinated exchange – the zabrak left, the mercenary swept in. Here, on her home turf, the woman sported no markings save for the smear of white paint across her faceplate. Just enough people recognized the skull-shaped stain to veer out of her way. It was a careful balance, kept by the occasional shootout and unexplained disappearance.

Not that anyone was counting the bodies out here.

“Mornin’.” It wasn’t, but it didn’t matter. Could just about pick your time of the day on Point Nadir – it was all artificial anyway.

Aver didn’t offer a hand in greeting, just leveled [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] with the perennial grin of her helmet.

“You’re new here, I can tell.” She couldn’t. Would’ve known if a Sith Lord of his caliber had popped up before, though. Had feelers all over the station.

“Let me be your guide to Nadir,” the mercenary spoke. Her tone was of the sort that implied he didn’t have much of a choice. Casually clapping his shoulder, Aver urged him towards the Arcade proper. Still just a bit shorter than her. Pity. The student did not always overtake the master.

“And we’ll see if we can’t fix you up with a buyer for those live goods.”

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

The saleswoman approached. Or she he had expected. Instead it was a mercenary. A goon sent by one of the crime lords of this station? It wouldn’t come as a fantastic shock. They might wish to secure the trade of the KSC before their competitors did. Pyrrhus didn’t mind playing ball. After all, that was partially why he was here.

“How very kind” Pyrrhus returned with the diplomat’s smile yet his voice felt dry and cold. There was an air of authority about him, a polite facade covering over cold malice. Death came to those who crossed him. A healthy sub-communication. But at the very least, it seemed to confirm that when it came to the KSC, he was someone with the ability to make deals and promises expected to be followed up on. This was not the average slave trader. But of course, she already knew this.

“That is why I am here. Take me to your master.” Time to commit countless souls to unimaginable toils and suffering for profit of credits and connections. Yay Tuesday.


[member=Aver Brand]

 

[Aver Brand]

“Sure,” Aver was curt, canting her head towards the bustling streets flowing from the docks like wide, branching rivers.

Just as dirty and deep and full of corpses, too.

The merc indulged a private smile as she led [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] deeper into the comet-city – they weaved down side-alleys and ducked off the main roads, all to avoid the great sentient mass that ebbed on the boardwalks like a single writhing, living being.

Nadir inhaled around them as they passed by, and it was fire and smog that it belched back out. One look over a rickety railing revealed a freefall that disappeared into the threadbare fog below, sliced ten ways by the suicidal traffic lanes of the station. Smells of spice and meats wafted off street vendors; the stink of decay and unwashed flesh crawled just beneath, layering it with that sense of an overly ripe fruit.

Would turn rotten the moment you bit into that apple?

Only one way to find out.

“Here we are,” the merc announced with an insouciant gesture. The guards let them through with a shallow nod, opening a small gate that bypassed the weapons scanners. Aver waved the escort down and took the Sith to the elevator alone. A swift ride, and they stepped out on the top floor of the towering building.

One long corridor later, they swept into a barren office. The merc stopped right inside the door, moving off to the side with the other three guards in the room.

Aside from an empty metal desk and the luxurious bantha leather chair behind it, there were no other items of furniture.

Erida Teheronhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/109962-erida-teheron/ swore on efficiency, and standing customers, she found, were far more motivated to conduct succinct meetings.