Thayne maintained his trajectory through the crowd, slowly moving toward the far edge of the pack, but he acknowledged the stranger’s approach nonetheless.
“Health inspector,” he remarked with a humored smirk.
“If my target seems too lively, I help alleviate their exuberance. Usually with a slug.”
Thayne shoved past a pair of Nautolans, shirking off the expletives they threw his way in their native tongue. He gestured for Wizard to join him.
“Wizard, eh? Who the feth names a baby ‘Wizard?’”
He flashed the man a toothy grin, clearly testing the waters. Make sure Wiz isn’t the type to stab him over a jest. You never know on Denon. He’d continue, both in conversation and on his path through the crowd.
“Call me Ghost,” he said plainly.
No first names for him when Darkwire’s involved. Only the title the Alliance newscasters had given him. Depending on Wizard’s stomping grounds, it was possible he’d have heard of the “Ghost of Kaas.” An unnamed and unidentified assassin who took out a half-dozen Sith (and, if the rumors are true, several Jedi Knights) on the fringe world of Dromund Kaas.
Though planets like Denon usually find ways to block the grittiest stories from the holofeeds. Sheep don’t run if they’re never afraid.
“They’ve upped security,” Thayne said as they neared the edge of the port.
He turned to face the man, handing him a fake ID card. It read ‘Samuel Forban.’
“Forgery’s worked here for months. All of a sudden, my ‘clearance’ isn’t high enough. Got any ideas?”
He grinned, a cold glint in his silvery eyes.
“I’ve got a ‘health inspection’ slated for this afternoon, and could use a hand. If you know how to slip into the Corners.”
A proposition most Denonites wouldn’t refuse, if they have the know-how.
Who doesn’t like killing CorpSec pencil pushers?
