Barrett Haskins
Smuggler Extraordinaire
"I hope I don't regret this..." The first words he spoke after accepting the title of 'Hutt Liaison', basically he was a nice face the Hutts could hide behind when they were 'politely' screwing someone out of their credits. The slugs had issued the title to him after he had cleared all of the debt he had existing with them and then some, buying alcohol and death sticks on the occasion from their dealers, they figured they'd extend a hand of trust…one they could crush him with if he didn’t prove himself.
They had told him to check his holomail in a couple hours on a secure channel to get his first orders. It had nearly been enough time now, having contemplated his life for the last little bit over a bottle of Corellian Whiskey, his location was an old warehouse that got turned into a bar on Nar Shaddaa, a secret Hutt meeting ground in case of invasion, it had many hidden compartments that even Haskins dared not tinker with, they also had a direct line to his employers when they sent him his mission.
Thoughts of the infamy that would come with such a title teased his head causing him to drown them with more alcohol; a smugger like Barrett Haskins had no time for negativity in his life, instead replacing it with sarcasm and booze, though he would call them a crutch for the broken leg life handed him. The room temperature fire water scolded his worried lips, relinquishing his nerves for a split second. He knew he was going to be fine, he had made it this far with the Hutts, but at the same time this was a make or break point for his career…and potentially his life.
The time had come to meander over to the holo and check his mail one more time, a nervous tick it seemed, he was itching for his job. He was curious to know just how deep he had gone down the rabbit hole of organized crime. The Hutts had been a weakened by the plague just as the rest of the galaxy, even if they closed their borders.Their supply of smugglers and humans had run out, and after the coup most of the Hutts had been slain. He entered his personal name and password, consisting of the regular six characters and one number, and pressed log on. Anyone watching would have thought he had receieved news he had a bounty on his head, his jaw dropped and his stomach churned, the email was written so:
Barrett-
You will meet one of our dearest and closest contacts, Sith Master @[member="Avicus DuSang"] at the Rusted Rodian in fifteen minutes, our tracking devices say you both are within that range and you both have received the same information.
His jaw had yet to close shut, a Sith Master? This was dangerous, Sith and criminals had a long windy history, sometimes good and sometimes bad. What business do we have with the Sith? He asked, he had enough time considering that was where he was already, meaning this Avicus character would arrive soon. He then heard another beep as he went to log out of his account, the Hutts had sent him another letter, this one seemed far more ominous.
Barrett Haskins-
This letter is just to you, we want to inform you that this mission is of utmost importance, the Hutt Lords have been establishing small relations with the Empress, @[member="Ashin Varanin"], you must show the utmost respect and discipline while in her grace's presence, they have the ability to eliminate us and they wouldn’t be scared to do so. Our Hutt lords are counting on you.
PS, your transport has been loaded with a suit to wear.
A sweat broke out over the Smuggler's brow, the pressure was on and he was scared. The Empress of the entire Sith Empire was going to be in an audience with him and whatever Sith Master was en route to give him the details on the transport, assuming he had a craft that would be accepted into Sith Space without a second look. How did they already put suits in his ship? Better yet how were they tracking him?! He realized he needed to stop drinking around the Hutts, tricky types they are.
He slinked back to his booth and poured himself another glass of whiskey, this was going to be a hell of a ride, hopefully he wasn’t going to get a stoic, brooding, scary Sith Master…but were there other kinds? Aye carumba, the galaxy was a stressful mistress, sucking the life right out him. Though eternal optimism remains, a trait that most Sith Masters would find quite annoying, thus is life.
"I'm probably going to regret this..."
They had told him to check his holomail in a couple hours on a secure channel to get his first orders. It had nearly been enough time now, having contemplated his life for the last little bit over a bottle of Corellian Whiskey, his location was an old warehouse that got turned into a bar on Nar Shaddaa, a secret Hutt meeting ground in case of invasion, it had many hidden compartments that even Haskins dared not tinker with, they also had a direct line to his employers when they sent him his mission.
Thoughts of the infamy that would come with such a title teased his head causing him to drown them with more alcohol; a smugger like Barrett Haskins had no time for negativity in his life, instead replacing it with sarcasm and booze, though he would call them a crutch for the broken leg life handed him. The room temperature fire water scolded his worried lips, relinquishing his nerves for a split second. He knew he was going to be fine, he had made it this far with the Hutts, but at the same time this was a make or break point for his career…and potentially his life.
The time had come to meander over to the holo and check his mail one more time, a nervous tick it seemed, he was itching for his job. He was curious to know just how deep he had gone down the rabbit hole of organized crime. The Hutts had been a weakened by the plague just as the rest of the galaxy, even if they closed their borders.Their supply of smugglers and humans had run out, and after the coup most of the Hutts had been slain. He entered his personal name and password, consisting of the regular six characters and one number, and pressed log on. Anyone watching would have thought he had receieved news he had a bounty on his head, his jaw dropped and his stomach churned, the email was written so:
Barrett-
You will meet one of our dearest and closest contacts, Sith Master @[member="Avicus DuSang"] at the Rusted Rodian in fifteen minutes, our tracking devices say you both are within that range and you both have received the same information.
His jaw had yet to close shut, a Sith Master? This was dangerous, Sith and criminals had a long windy history, sometimes good and sometimes bad. What business do we have with the Sith? He asked, he had enough time considering that was where he was already, meaning this Avicus character would arrive soon. He then heard another beep as he went to log out of his account, the Hutts had sent him another letter, this one seemed far more ominous.
Barrett Haskins-
This letter is just to you, we want to inform you that this mission is of utmost importance, the Hutt Lords have been establishing small relations with the Empress, @[member="Ashin Varanin"], you must show the utmost respect and discipline while in her grace's presence, they have the ability to eliminate us and they wouldn’t be scared to do so. Our Hutt lords are counting on you.
PS, your transport has been loaded with a suit to wear.
A sweat broke out over the Smuggler's brow, the pressure was on and he was scared. The Empress of the entire Sith Empire was going to be in an audience with him and whatever Sith Master was en route to give him the details on the transport, assuming he had a craft that would be accepted into Sith Space without a second look. How did they already put suits in his ship? Better yet how were they tracking him?! He realized he needed to stop drinking around the Hutts, tricky types they are.
He slinked back to his booth and poured himself another glass of whiskey, this was going to be a hell of a ride, hopefully he wasn’t going to get a stoic, brooding, scary Sith Master…but were there other kinds? Aye carumba, the galaxy was a stressful mistress, sucking the life right out him. Though eternal optimism remains, a trait that most Sith Masters would find quite annoying, thus is life.
"I'm probably going to regret this..."