Narcos

[Zark San Tekka]

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Event Horizon Casino​

Exchange Front, Spice Terminus​

​

First the Crown Court, then Kwenn Station. The Wheel, and now Spice Terminus.

The Prince's influence throughout Outer Rim space was spreading like a spider's web. As long as he continued to pay homage to the Underlord through an anonymous sector chief, he was granted leave to brandish the Exchange's influence like a blunt instrument, battering his way through local competition and expanding each new acquisition's spheres of underworld influence rapidly. The Event Horizon was a newer acquisition, he was still cultivating station contacts to sway onto his payroll.

He wasn't even the official owner of Crown Court on paper, but here on Spice Terminus like with each of his enterprises there was no doubt amount senior staff who was really in charge whenever he came to visit. It was an unspoken truth, when on the casino floor he was treated as a VIP but as he was not prone to many public appearances Ifan ben-Mezd spent much of his time in the executive office.

"F-forgive me, sir," one of the Horizon's Devaronian managers approached him hesitantly, "There is a problem at one of the tables. A p-possible card counter."

"Is that confirmed?" his words were like ice, and the sharpness to Ifan's tone caused the Devaronian to flinch.

"Not yet, sir," he replied in a pleading voice, quickly adding, "He's just racking up quite a stake. We thought you would want to know."

"Show me."

He seemed to glide more than walk out from the back offices adjoining the casino cages and out onto the main pit. Each of his properties were tailored to their location, and the Event Horizon was no exception. Reminiscent of an Atrisian hookah den, there was a gaudy clash between harem and futuristic decor that pervaded the establishment's atmosphere.

The Prince heard the boisterous laughter coming from his table long before he laid eyes on [member="Vinon Demeaux"]. He did not immediately recognize the Corellian, although the resemblance did strike him as for some reason familiar. Ruthless eyes belied a cheerful smile as he approached Vinon's table as if he were a concierge.

"Good evening, sir. I trust you are enjoying our establishment?" his lilting voice enunciated the practiced words of a man who had spent a lifetime in the service industry, "Is there anything the gentleman might require?"

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="The Prince"]

Vin looked up from the cards, the cash, the women on his arms and the drink in his hand.

The Prince was exactly what he had always imagined the man to be. Thin, smile without lips or warmth and eyes that seemed to be wilting under the haze of spice smoke. Oh, they had never met in person before, but he knew the tales and the tales were not pretty.

It was enough for Vin to consider him a pest.

He was in the game, but he wasn't in the game. Outside of it. Playing for a nobleman with airs while snorting his own supply. Using violence and coercion where a softer hand might have been a better move. The actions on the Wheel had send shockwaves through numerous fronts of the Exchange. It had played out alright for them -- they always won, no? But there had been more elegant solutions as far as Vinon was concerned. Not the time though.

"Oh, thank you, waiter." A smile there. Many teeth, shining bright and the ladies around him chuckled with him. "I'd enjoy another wine, if you'd please."

Offering the empty glass while flipping the cards on their back.

Negative twenty-three.

Another win.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

"Of course, sir," he took the proferred glass graciously, disappearing it underneath the folds of his silken robes.

This man knew who he was.

He wasn't a mind reader, and couldn't know for sure, but Ifan was certain he had glimpsed the briefest flash of recognition in Vinon's eyes. That was a problem. There were very few people in the underworld, or anywhere in the galaxy really, that had the connections to recognize him on sight. Tonight had just gotten interesting, and he couldn't help but smile.

"If you will forgive this brief intrusion," he continued hastily just as the gambler's attention was drifting back to his table, "My employer would like a quick word with you in the back at your earliest convenience."

Everything about the way he said it made it sound like an optional invitation, but as he spoke the words two enforcers appeared behind him, disruptor pistols bulging out of their expensive suits, glaring down at [member="Vinon Demeaux"] to imply it was anything but.

"I will fetch you that wine now."

The Prince began to glide off back to his suite, but the enforcers remained.

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="The Prince"]

A smirk followed the Prince out before his attention shifted towards the two enforcers.

He studied both of them quietly before sighing.

"I have friends that look just like you, you know." He said easily as he rose himself off the seat. Patting one particularly concerned lady and pointing towards his winnings. "I know exactly how much is on there, if you take more than a hundred credits as a tip, I will be cross withcha." To the dealer that one, wink included, before he let the enforcers guide him to the back of the den.

To Prince's office presumably.

Where he flopped onto one of the chairs before the desk.

The enforcers stayed at his side for now. Nice touch. "I assume you have my wine?" Vin grinned and didn't seem disturbed that the waiter was now in the boss seat.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

The Event Horizon's executive office was dimly lit and poorly ventilated, its air with cloudy from smoke. No doubt a product of the hookah pipe on the Kashyyyk-wood desk between them. For a long moment after [member="Vinon Demeaux"] spoke, the Prince simply stared at him, twinkling eyes of shifting hues glowing just a little too brightly through the haze.

"Hm? Oh yes, of course," he said, rising from his seat and floating over to the suite's wet bar. While he prepared a drink for his guest, he added over his shoulder, "Mr. Demeaux. I won't hold you to formality, so you may simply call me Amir if you wish."

He turned back around to face Vinon. In his right hand was a fresh glass of expensive Corellian Merlot. In his left, an electrum plated ELG-3A blaster.

"Are you here to kill me?" Ifan asked simply, eyes shining vibrantly.

He set the glass on the table, but kept the blaster trained on his guest at hip level. A smile was on his face.

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="The Prince"]

Amir actually managed to make Vin blink.

Few people did that.

Mostly because violence -- while a part of Vinon's life -- was always a more distant part. He refused to take part in it for the most the part, unless it was for self-defense. A personal code, if you will. Some considered it weak and some considered it impressive considering his track record for success. Maybe that was why the Exchange allowed him so much leeway to do as he pleased. He brought results and more often than not those results didn't begin (nor end) with a mess.

"That was not... in the cards, Amir." Vin said very carefully while slowly reaching out for his glass and taking a measured sip. While the barrel was aimed at him Vinon did not move one muscle out of place. "You can call me Vin, my friends do, as long as that blaster is put back in your pants."

Just a smidgen of snark.

He didn't like this at all.

"A little bug came to sing in my ear and let me know we had visitors. I wanted to welcome you to Spice Terminus personally."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

For a moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity, the Prince simply stood there behind his desk, holdout blaster casually aimed center mass.

"I believe you," Ifan's eyes twinkled, and he broke the tension with a sudden boisterous laugh, "That's a relief."

He had said the words while wiping tears from his eyes, ELG-3A no longer trained on Vinon. Instead, he used the barrel of the blaster to rub at his temple, noticing as if for the first time Demeaux's sense of discomfort when the Corellian followed its business end with nervous eyes.

"Relax," his tone was meant to sound soothing, as if he were reassuring a skittish beast, "Its not even set to-"

Glancing over at the blaster, Ifan frowned. He flipped a switch on its side.

"There, its not even set to kill."

He tossed the holdout onto the desk between them like it was nothing more than a paperweight. As it clattered down onto Kashyyyk-wood somehow without discharging, the reclusive facilitator turned back to his wet bar and began mixing himself his own cocktail.

"You're a rising star, Vin," the Prince spoke once more over his shoulder while he mixed, heedless of the ELG-3A now resting less than a meter from the man he had just seemingly threatened, "We don't always get the latest from Nar Shaddaa, but word of your sponsorship reached my ears even on Point Nadir. Congratulations."

He turned back to face [member="Vinon Demeaux"], mixed drink now in hand, "You're a transportation man, is that correct?"

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="The Prince"]

Oh, Vin had known the Prince's reputation, but he hadn't realized just how unstable things really were here.

Not set to kill, my left arse-

Not the time. Not the time. Something of relaxation managed to seep back into his body as the two goons faded away, stepping out the office and settling themselves up as guards rather than potential executioners. He swirled his own glass as Prince mixed something up for himself. Switching the cross of legs to accommodate a potential cramp coming up.

"Thank you." A nod and a raise of his glass.

Sip next.

Swirl. Enjoy. At the very least the Prince knew his vintage and it wasn't some crappy chit. "Pretty much, yeah. Transportation, facilitation. If someone needs something, I usually know someone else who has it."

A fence too.

In fact, Vin had a lot of jobs attached to his name, part of why his star had risen so quickly. Somehow he managed to make himself indispensable in a myriad of areas at the same time.

"You seem worried, Amir, what has you on edge so much. Besides my pretty face."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

"To facilitation, then," Ifan raised his glass in toast, all trace of grim paranoia gone from his pallor. Now he spoke as if to an old colleague, "A self made man. I can respect that."

The Prince thought of himself as a facilitator as well, that much at least they had in common. Swirling his drink in its diamond encrusted glass, he made unerring eye contact with his unannounced guest. For now there were the edges of a playful smirk on his lips, but it lilted as if to suggest his demeanor was something that could change from moment to moment.

"Hm?" he tilted his head inquisitively at Vinon's question, before glanced down at the blaster on his desk. Understanding appeared to dawn on him, "Oh! Forgive my manners. It was most kind of you to welcome a fellow member of our union to this lovely station."

His hand reached out towards the table, hovering over the ELG-3A before drifting to scoop up the hookah pipe next to it.

"Would you care for some?" he asked, not waiting for a response before indulging himself. He let loose a billow of smoke, a spontaneous bout of laughter came with it, and mind altering chemicals washed over [member="Vinon Demeaux"].

"I'm in the hospitality game myself," the Prince continued once his tittering had subsided. While his behavior seemed altered, his speech slurred, his eyes seemed no less sharp. They still retained their glamour of luminescence, "And pharmaceuticals, of course. Then there are some minor shipping concerns..."

Ifan's eyes drifted once again to the blaster between them, and he arced his brow at Vinon.

"Transportation man, you said?" he mulled the words over in his mouth, "Tell me, Vin. Are you familiar with the notion of synchronicity?"

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="The Prince"]

Had this been a different avenue, his avenue, Vin would most likely have accepted.

Vices here, vices there, kept a man relaxed and their edge wet until it was necessary.

Whereas keeping yourself restrained? Well, that could shatter a man, if you wound the lines too tight. "Naw, I am good, friend. Maybe another time." Instead the glass was raised once more in salute as the Prince Amir took a drag from his hookah. The alcohol was good at the very least, even if the hospitality could do a bit better. With less blasters shoved in their faces. That part had always bothered him about the Exchange. They had grown so large, so full of themselves... that they considered themselves untouchable.

That caused risks and risks caused pressure in the wrong corners.

"Can't say that I do, Amir, why don't you enlighten me?" Oh, Vin knew. Things happen and while they don't seem to be linked, they had a relationship regardless.

He wondered where the Prince was going with this.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

"Enlighten you?" Ifan smirked, raising an eyebrow at this turn of phrase. His eyes gleamed, "Very well, then."

He raised an intimidating looking obsidian sphere, and pointed it directly at [member="Vinon Demeaux"]. For a short time he held it there, unmoving, his eyes fixed on the smuggler prince. Then he pointed it instead at the office wall beside them, and pressed down with his forefingers. A large screen activated, embedded video feeds in the glossy finish of the otherwise modest looking back office.

The entertainment he had selected was a series of closed security security footage, each focused on different angles of the same stark white factory space. Laborers in environmental suits were hard at work first processing raw spice into some form of more refined mixture, and then packaging that product into industrial scale quantities.

"Glitterstim," the Prince uttered with relish, "Champagne of spice. You see, Vinon? I've got the connection. I've got the cooks. I've even got this nice, profitable facade."

He patted the desk before him, as if to show his appreciate for such luxury.

"But thanks to a minor setback on Dorsis," in fact some of his best movers had been picked up by the authorities or killed, "Would you believe there's only one thing I still need to make this whole enterprise worthwhile?"