Nar Kreetan Nights

[Sal Katarn]

​

Nar Kreeta, a major trade world, which basically meant pricey valuables flowed through one end and out the other. Left the port authorities rich. Couldn't say the same for everyone else, all those cogs in the Hutt's greased mercantile machine, grinding away day in and day out.

Rain came here more often here than it did on Tatooine. Just enough to turn dirt into mud and grime into sludge. Never enough to wash it away.

Yet as he rode on one of the many cabs congesting the sky lanes, Sal Katarn couldn't help but feel some sort of weird attraction to the place. Maybe because here it was easy to separate good apples from the bad. People didn't pretend to be something else here, unlike on Coruscant, where the criminals hid in shadows and shell corporations. The two underworlds could not have been more different. If Coruscant was a game of dejarikk, intricate and complex, then Nar Kreeta was five finger fillet. Bold, ruthless and breathtakingly violent.

Didn't stop the cabbie from looking at him sideways when he'd climbed in the speeder with a shrike the size of a human child. Ka sat beside him, talons digging into the already torn seats, head moving in that twitching way unique to avians.

Sal wasn't here because he liked the refreshing change of atmosphere, or the way nobody glanced twice when he stepped out into foot traffic wearing body armor underneath a black poncho and a pair of irons strapped to his hips. No, as usual he was here on a job.

Didn't think I'd reach thirty, but here I am just shy of forty. Reckon I'll keep doing it long as they still pay me. Or until I die. Eh, Ka?

The bird glanced at him with a derisive amber gaze that mirrored his own, then took to the skies in a rustle of brown feathers.

A/C fans set up along the street corners did kriff-all for the stifling heat, but he stood underneath one all the same while he looked for the spot. He'd already been on planet three days and had managed to persuade a few low levels to spill their guts. Their intel brought him here.

A speeder whooshed low overhead, well below all altitude safety regulations. Sal caught a glimpse of the markings on the side of the craft as it passed. Hutt Enforcers aka what passed for badge security around these parts. Probably Nikto. Probably stupid.

Katarn spotted the shop, some sort of food vendor, and went to lean against a nearby wall. He lit up a smoke and waited.

To some farm boy from Dantooine, the place had so many flashing advertisements in Huttese, Basic, Rodese and a dozen other languages that the whole city might've seemed made from neon. But Sal was an old hand. He knew where to look, which signs were for legitimate businesses, which were for turnin' tricks and the like. Most of 'em were half n' half.

An hour or two later, fast approaching dusk, a Weequay matching the description he'd been given walked into the shop and disappeared for a few minutes. He came out later, eating a fried lizard on a stick. Would've thought he just stopped for food, but the fella' made a beeline for the nearby strip joint.

Sal narrowed his eyes.

If there was one thing the galaxy wasn't in short supply of it was strip clubs. Not even on Yag'dhul. Sniffing, Sal tossed his smoke and followed the Weequay inside the establishment. It had the endearing name of Collars n' Legs.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

It wasn’t unusual for a darkly cloaked figure or twenty to be found drifting through the local strip joint. Some were wanted men, some wanted to hide the fact that they were here for one reason or another, and some were probably just going for an intimidating, mysterious vibe. One in particular had come to scope out the talent.

Swathed in a rather shapeless form of dark, drab fabric was a young Zeltron. She could have easily—and perhaps more comfortably—fit in with the beautiful creatures on stage had she dressed the part. And she could have absolutely dressed the part, seeing as how her people tended to dress in a risqué fashion in the first place. A part of her wanted to rip her own concealing cloak off and get up on stage in her underwear to show these ladies how to properly shake that ass. But she resisted for the time being, not keen on letting too much of her pink skin or red hair seep through to the onlookers. Though she was just another blurry face in the underworld, she hadn’t exactly been kind to some of its occupants. Shaking her head at the mediocre display put on by a lackluster Theelin, the Zeltron drifted past the stage and onto the next one. The dancer was spiced out, most likely. But she’d still drawn a crowd with her gyrations and jiggling parts.

Specifically, slavers. After being dragged forcibly into the slave trade by an opportunistic Zygerrian, Joza had developed a penchant for liberating their merchandise. She didn’t operate alone, but today she’d come to scout for dancers—those who were marked as slaves. Eyeing a slightly distressed looking twi’lek at the corner of the larger stage, she grunted and scrolled through something on her wrist mounted datapad. The hood and scarf wound tightly around her head and lower face did a good enough job of concealing her appearance for the time being. As an added bonus in obscuring her feminine figure, the little Ami-Su she’d become attached to was sleeping on her shoulder beneath the robes. It gave the appearance that her neck was distorted by a large growth.

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

The scents assaulted his nose first. A mix of pheromones, smoke, sweat and - he sniffed - other bodily fluids. Par for the course. No different than any other joint this side of the Mara Corridor. Alert amber eyes slid across the room, which was veiled in a thin layer of cigarra smog, identifying possible threats while disregarding others, searching for the quarry.

Where'd you get to, hmm?

The roving gaze posed briefly on the writhing bodies of the dancers on stage. Business first.

He moved on, ambling toward the bar with a sort of leonine gait. Katarn draped one arm on the bar and leaned forward, pretending to study the girl at the other end. Just over her shoulder he caught a glimpse of the Weequay being ushered into another room behind a flimsy curtain. Probably to go upstairs, or down. Sal expected that's where they made most of their deals. Not in drugs or small arms, but a trade in flesh. Normally, Sal wouldn't give a kark, but he was being paid to care. Contracted for a job, the only sort of job at which he was any good.

Puttin' other fellas six feet under.

"What'll you be having?" Bartender.

Sal glanced at him. "Water. Straw."

A Gran guarded the curtained door, just one. Sal sniffed and peered down at his belt, picking out a shell. He started fiddling with it, pulling it apart. The bartender handed him a glass of water with a straw, not giving him a second glance. Clubs got all sorts of clientele, from pretty normal to kriffing strange. From within the shell casing, Katarn gingerly pulled a small flechette. Then he picked up his glass of water, straw and all, and moved along the bar as if he was going to chat up the girl at the far end.

He stopped a few stools from her, opting instead to stand next to the black garbed figure with the neck growth who was minding its own business and staring at the stage. Pulling the straw out of the glass, Sal slid the flechette dart inside one end, held the straw up to his mouth and pointed it at the direction of the Gran. He blew, hard.

Ffft.

The Gran slapped at its neck and looked around. Sal smirked and went back to his glass of water.

One Hydian, Two Hydian, Three...

The goat alien slumped forward suddenly until its chin rested on its chest. Fast asleep. Sal's lips curled up on one side out of his mouth.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Pokey the Ami-Su had been fast asleep, little claws digging into Joza’s back and shoulder. Though it was uncomfortable, the covered Zeltron didn’t particularly mind the pain—in fact, she’d gotten used to it, perhaps eve forgetting all about it as her attention was focused on the dancers. This one seemed to be promising, and she studied the green skinned twi’lek with a trained eye, watching for poise, flexibility and overall skill. She hadn’t taken notice of the man standing next to her as he subtly hit the Gran guard with a tranquilizer. She hadn’t even noticed the Gran, or the Weequay, so it would stand that she didn’t pay much attention to her neck lump as it stirred.

The little creature was both cute and loyal, but had fiercely bonded with the Knight in such a short time. Pokey didn’t like to be left alone, and would likely cry the entire time she was away had she left him with the ship. That would be all well and fine if it didn’t break Joza’s heart. Also, last time he had shredded several of her favorite outfits and left a gift on her bed to convey how distraught he’d been. She’d never seen someone look so sad while she’d berated them before.

The best solution was to take the Ami-Su with her, provided he behaved. This was accomplished through a series of treats and belly rubs. Joza was lucky that he’d been asleep for the majority of the time, but now Pokey had woken up and felt as if he deserved a treat for being good! The neck tumor shifted again, a little grey and black paw moving out from beneath the folds of her hood to pat at her cheek. When he got no response, the groggy Ami-Su patted again, this time a bit more forcefully to show his guardian that he meant business. But when Joza only waved his hand away, too transfixed with her current interest, Pokey was suddenly much more awake.

Awake and rambunctious, it seemed. The neck lump would disappear, filtering down into the generous sleeve of her robe. He easily scampered along her arm, poking his head out from beneath the cuff of the sleeve to sniff around. So many smells! Many of them unpleasant. Pokey scrunched his nose in disgust, only being able to identify the smell of cigarra smoke indefinitely. His pink vessel liked to smoke.

Eyes brightening, he spied a humanoid hand holding a glass of water nearly eye level to the Ami-Su. Luckily, the man who was attached to that hand seemed to be distracted as well. With no small amount of indecision, Pokey reached out and swatted the glass from his hand. It would shatter as it reached the floor, sending shards of glass and splashes over water over the feet of those in the immediate vicinity. Mischief managed, the little beast disappeared back into the Zeltron’s robes.

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

The mutated growth on the cloaked figure started moving, then abruptly emerged from the swaddling robes to smack his water cup. Glass shattered across the floor. Sal stared, sharp gaze catching a glimpse of the rodent as it disappeared back beneath the cloak.

"Hm," he grunted.

Don't have time to play exterminator. Got a job to do.

He would have kept moving if he hadn't caught a glimpse of pink skin beneath the cowl. Amber eyes narrowed to slits. Sal sniffed the air and caught a whiff of pheromones wafting off the stranger. One eyebrow rose. Smelled like Zeltron.

Steady fingers dangled near his holster, inching closer to the butt of a pistol.

Sal followed the figure's gaze toward the dancers on stage.

This ain't right.

"Best handle your mouse, Blush."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

The sound of shattering glass drew Joza’s attention from the dancers, much to Pokey’s delight. At least something he did had garnered her attention! Her eyes quickly swept to the floor to see shards of glass scattered about, the contents of said glass making the floor beneath her slick. The sound of a masculine voice startled gaze upwards, and she found herself staring at…some scruffy looking nerfherder.

“Hm,” She took a few moments to eye the man, wondering if she should flip him the bird, walk off, or apologize. Her eyes immediately tracked to his waist, where weapons were often kept. She wasn’t here to get into trouble, but trouble often found one in a place like this. Especially when there were mischievous rodents about. Now that she thought about it, she should probably replace that drink for him. Though she hadn’t actually caught Pokey in the act, she wasn’t exactly suspended in disbelief.

Impatient, Pokey crawled his way up Joza’s arm, hopped onto her shoulder and forced his face out from her hood, knocking the dark cowl back from her head as he did so. He chittered rapidly for a few moments before the Zeltron finally gave in, rolling her eyes and fetching a snack cake from somewhere within her robes and handing it over. Satisfied, the Ami-Su curled up onto her shoulder and munched away. Joza almost groaned. She shouldn’t be enforcing bad behavior like that with treats, but Pokey was a relentless child at times.

“Sorry about that,” Exhaling, she placed a hand atop Pokey’s head before allowing her eyes to appraise the man in front of her again—this time she was less subtle, green eyes sliding over him boldly as a man would a woman. Almost as if he were one of the dancers on stage she’d been scrutinizing just moment ago. Not bad.

The hand that was not atop Pokey’s head had remained loose at her side, blending into the folds of her robes. She hadn’t come without a blaster, and might be able to reach her own before he would his. Maybe. She wasn’t sure. Which was why she chose the more diplomatic route.

“Buy you a drink? To replace the one my mouse tried to steal.”

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

Didn't steal it. He broke it.

The Firrerreon's gaze flicked past the Blush, narrowing on the slumping form of the sedated guard. Only had a few more minutes, less if someone noticed.

"Pass," he rasped, voice sounding as though someone had taken sandpaper to his vocal chords.


Any other time, Sal might have taken her up on the offer. Weren't often he turned down a drink, or a Zeltron for that matter. He gave her one last look. Skin a rosy flush, hair a curtain of darkening flame and alert eyes the shade of malachite. And all of that had been hidden under the thick, formless black robe. Not really Blush style.

Hm.

Something was off, but Katarn wasn't here to investigate. He turned and stalked toward the curtained door, boots crunching on the shattered glass.

If the girl was what he thought, she might follow him as he swept back the curtain, moved past the sedated guard and up, up, up the stairs to the second floor.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Pass.

Pass? Pass?! Who simply passed up a free drink from a Zeltron woman as easily as he had? Needless to say, Joza was not used to rejection. If anything, she could usually fall back on her racial charms to get what she needed or worm her way out of a situation.

But this guy clearly wasn’t right in the head! That, or he had an agenda. Following his retreating form with her gaze, a spark lit in the woman’s eyes as he disappeared behind the curtained off area. A glance over to the side, and it appeared that the door attendant was taking a little snooze. That sharp featured man didn’t have anything to do with it, did he?

A back room of sorts. Typically where more private services were offered, she assumed. The Zeltron was no stranger to such establishments, and after a few moments of lingering, pulled the hood back up over her head and drifted towards the curtain.

“You’d best behave.” She grumbled in warning to her neck lump, who at present was happily munching away on his treat. Joza was now a few paces behind the man as they rose up the staircase, intent on seeing the layout—and perhaps, where the girls were kept.

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

He could smell her pheromones behind him, a distinct, pungent scent.

​Could be hostile.

Smelled more curious than hostile, though, and her adrenaline wasn't up. Said she wasn't expecting a fight. Hm.

Sal allowed himself a tight-lipped smirk as he mounted the final step and emerged into a lounge area, cloistered off from the rest of the club. Several weequay lounged on couches, encumbered by the bare bodies of twi'leks and zeltrons. Katarn glanced at one of the glass tables. Lines of gilt dust.

By the time anyone noticed he was there, Sal already had both blaster pistols out and pointed casually in the direction of both sofas.

"Move, I shoot."

He gestured with his pistol at the Weequay he'd been tracking.

"Where's your boss, wermo."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Well. This was…sort of what she’d expected. Naked woman in shades of pink, blue and green stretched out along couches, a handful of Weequay men enjoying the atmosphere. Joza inhaled deeply, allowing the Zeltron pheromones other than her own to wash over her. They relaxed her for a few moment, but she hardened quickly, eyes tracking to the nude women rather than the men for a few moments.

She searched for slave collars, marking brands, or any signs of abuse. No stranger to slavery herself, she would likely try and attempt to free at least a few of these girls from their bonds…though use of the Force, credits, or whatever else.

In the short time it took her to ascend the stairs and appraise the merchandise, her new friend had pulled out a pair of blasters and had them aimed at each of the Weequay. She bristled a bit, hand instinctively reaching for the saber hilt at her waist, cloaked by her billowing robe. Good, this wouldn’t complicate things at all. She wasn’t concerned so much for the fate of the Weequay as she was over the girls.

Taking a half-step forward so that she was beside and level with the gunslinger and not in front of his pistols, the Zeltron gathered the Force to her and addressed the Weequay he’d gestured to.

“You’d like to direct him to your boss.”

Her right hand would drift in front of her face as she attempted to sway his mind, though her left hand tightened on the hilt of her saber. The Weequay were likely armed, and had there not been several bare, fleshy, innocent bodies between them, she would be content to step back.

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

Incredibly, both Weequays seemed to relax and stumbled over themselves in an effort to fill Katarn in on just where their boss was at the moment. Sal caught something about Eternan Jay, local mob boss and head of the flesh trade in this region of Nar Kreeta, and a casino.

"Slow. Down," he growled, shooting a sidelong glance at the girl with the magic fingers. Just a wave and they'd become as affable as a Herglic on a win streak. Didn't smell a strong difference in the pheromones, which narrowed the explanations down to just a few options. Katarn didn't care for any of 'em.

"Eternan Jay, he at the casina," answered the Weequay he'd been tailing.

"Which?"

"Blimey's."

"Fierfek," Sal swore, eyes flashing. He toyed with the idea of shooting them both, bristling at the idea of asking the Blush to just make 'em forget they were ever here. Still, if he left the pair alive they might give Jay a ring and let him know the Shrike was coming.

Not. Optimal.

One of the Weequay's hands twitched at its hip. Sal squeezed both triggers instinctively. Got the first in the head, second in the chest. Both deader than a TaunTaun on Tatooine. The girls were screaming. Smoke and steam curled from the superheated char. Katarn pursed his lips angrily, holstered his pistols, then turned and stomped back down the stairs, leaving 'em lying like that.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza watched the situation unfold, her muscles tensed to react should she need to intercept any of the men. Again, it was the presence of the girls that worried her—let the scoundrels blast each other all they want. Thankfully, she seemed to influence the Weequay enough to give the man the information he had asked form. That was good, but no wave of relief rolled over the cloaked Zeltron. That would only come if she managed to smuggled the girls offworld and secured them…unharmed.

It happened quicker than she’d expected. There was no hesitation on the pistol wielding man’s part as he fired off a pair of shots at the Weequay, bolts streaking across the room and leaving smoldering wounds into their targets. Joza cringed, and her hand tightened even further on the hilt of her saber, maybe even tugged at it a little. Seemingly uninterested in cleaning up his mess, the man turned to leave, intent on following his lead.

Gnawing at her bottom lip in both irritation and hesitation, Joza brushed past her indecision and turned towards the frightened girls. “Hush, ladies. If you are calm and do as I say, I might be able to get you out of here. Get dressed, quickly. Do not touch the Weequay.” She spoke in a low, firm tone as a torrent of pheromones washed over the women, serving to help calm them down. Sneaking them out would be difficult enough, much less if they were hysterical. She cast one last bitter look towards the staircase before turning back to help the women dress.

Pokey, however, didn’t want to be part of this plan. Especially when there was something much more interesting about. The little rat was aware enough to pick up on his vessel’s displeasure that accompanied the blaster shots. Taking advantage of Joza’s current distraction, the creature slid down her body and darted out from beneath the hem of her cloak and down the stairs. One leap later, and the rodent was hurdling towards his target…one of Katarn’s ankles. If he’d managed to latch onto it in any capacity, the rodent would bite and scratch as furiously as he could.

[member="Sal Katarn"]