First Reply Seeking Immortality

[The Fool]

Synopsis: DARTH KOVAR, a local crime lord on NAR SHADDAA, has been building over the years a force of TECHNOBEASTS - part-organic part-machine sithspawn mutants as blindly loyal enforcers to expand his influence in the underworld and also mitigate the chance of being backstabbed; he's had plenty of backstabbing issues in the past, one that actually left him handicapped. Don't get fooled by the moniker, he goes by Darth only to drive greater fear in his rivals. Nonetheless, despite his limited Force powers, DARTH KOVAR is a mechu-deru sepcialist whose abilities in that sphere have been greatly enhanced by his background as a doctor in cybernetics. The Dark Jedi has the ambition to become a top boss in the underworld on NAR SHADDAA. The only issue is that he's dying. But there's a cure for that, right?

The Dark Jedi has learned that an off-shoot sect of the former Order of the Sacred Lotus calling themselves THE PRIESTS OF KALEA have set up shop at on the crime infested moon. As force users specializing in healing, they have become a beacon of hope for the downtrodden denizens of NAR SHADDAA. Rumors on the streets are they possess an incredibly potent force artifact of the Light Side capable of healing anything. DARTH KOVAR believes that through his prowess in the Dark Side he is capable of corrupting the object and utilizing it to prolong his life...eternally.

A generous reward awaits those acquiring this valuable object for the aspiring crime lord...and merciless punishment those who stand in his way.

--

Laying low after a hot job didn't get any better than a cheap ass studio in the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa. Ain't no finding here. The suffocating grey box he called home for the last few months was running out air, unlike his pockets which were filled only with just that. He hadn't expected to find no jobs on this shithole of a moon for so long. Money was so thin he couldn't even afford the local Rodian take away; and that's cheaper than hunting rats, somehow. So when he heard about a job for a local crime lord, he was quick to act.

Neighborhood gossip got him the first lead - a man healed of some really tough chronic disease with a complicated name. The healed man, Roman learned, was a small-time criminal by the name of Leno. Armed robberies, arson and attempt on murder, among other less tasteful violations of the law. Nasty face, nasty guts. A sleemo wasting the already limited oxygen. He'd shot him in sight if he was one of those Jedi-ripoff loons, the Priests of Kalea; but apparently they healed anyone, no matter the background. For a moment Roman wondered why Kovar just didn't straight up go there? A show of weakness to his rivals? Get them talking and movin'? Who knows, maybe.

The investigator caught Leno in one of those greasy, feet-sticking, why is that rat so big back alleys trying to rob a Rodian neighbor. He subtly, like a shadow, shuffled right behind Leno and dropped a guillotine of a chop right on his neck; it cracked but didn't snap - that wasn't the point. The Rodian shoved his assailant and fled. Roman lifted the petty criminal up on the wall by his throat. His gasps for air blew the stench of something worse than the sewers of Raxus Prime. His skin was greasier than the unknown (and it better stay unknown) liquid running on the ground from the nearby trash container.

"How was your vacation, friendo? Heard Jedi spa did wonders." he spat at the man while keeping his choking hold strong. "Should've booked a face lifting voucher too but guess there ain't no fix for this piece of art." he said venomously. "Where are these bathrobe friends of yours hiding?"

"Hhhnnnggg..."

"What?" he loosened his hold of the man only to receive a slimy spit. Temper flared and Roman slammed Leno in the wall shutting his lights off. Warm liquid ran down his fingers. "Shit."

The investigator set the unconscious man down and cleaned his hands with the man's jacket. Two small holocard fell off and he picked them.

For Sexual Healing, call-. Nope. He looked at the other card.

"If sick - Level 3414, Block D, huh?" he read the card out loud and smirked. Not that hard, huh, friendo, he thought, giving a final glance at Leno.

 

[Atlas Kane]

Mired boots trudged slowly atop the metal streets of Nar Shaddaa. A trail of mud and clay had followed Atlas after he burst out the door of a tea house. The otherwise pristine black robes were ruined from his waist down. He paused his stride to inspect the severity of the damage only to give off a frustrated grunt. The stuff was resilient too, no way a simple rinse in some water would get it off.

His day was utterly ruined. Not only did the spy he was to meet not show up at the precise time window they had discussed, now he walked with dirt and grime smeared across the robes he wore. Part of him attempted to not care, to not allow emotion to get to him, but a younger, less experienced Atlas won out.

"Sons of hutts. Can't even follow the most basic of directions. Utterly useless. What kind of fool do they take me for ... " he muttered.

He heard voices from the alleyway up ahead, giving it a cursory glance as he passed. There stood a man with two data cards above the unconscious body of a rodian. The jacket the man held bore a pin that caught his eye immediately. The silver leaf that had been pre-arranged as the sign of identification with the very rodian sounding contact he had spoken to a few days prior. The silver leaf that stuck to the jacket which this human now held above the unconscious form of a rodian.

"That's ... my rodian."

The Fool

 

[The Fool]

He had slammed and lit a cigarette in his mouth just by the time when someone privatized the ownership of the knocked out rodian on the ground. Roman looked up from the holocards, putting them neatly in his long coat's pockets along with his hand, to see a darkly dressed man with a mask and an incredibly eye plucking stain on his robe.

"This guy?" Roman raised an eyebrow and pointed with his smoking hand at the rodian. "Don't know him, pal." He took to leaving the scene but being completely cautious the closer he got to the eerie masked man. "Found this on him..." the investigator tossed a holocard at the man as he was bypassing him. "...they don't care what your face looks like there."

FOR SEXUAL HEALING, CALL 000-6969000

Atlas Kane

 

[Atlas Kane]

Catching the card with one hand, he quickly skimmed the contents as the hologram came to life. Just as soon as it did it fizzled out with an audible crack, the holocard little more than crumpled junk in his palm.

With no time to wait for the rodian to regain consciousness and too many prying eyes already around them, the informant was little more than a liability. It only took a glance and a subtle motion underneath his cloak to crush his windpipe and make it look like an accident. The man would pass quietly, just another victim of Nar Shaddaa's criminal underbelly.

With a few quick steps, he moved after the stranger, attempting to match the man's pace to walk beside him. The culinary atrocity staining his robes that outshone even Tacohutt in its gruesomeness fell to the wayside in his mind. This man knew more than he was letting on, the way he carried himself betrayed as much. Whether it be his belief in the grand design of the force or simply the frustration of a day gone so awry, Atlas didn't feel like being strung along any further. Weeks of preparation had just gone down the drain and still no sign of the promised cure.

"Tell me what you know of the priests." his voice was quiet enough to lend them a minimal degree of privacy.

The Fool

 

[The Fool]

The mention of the priests by the stranger made him casually but subtly lay his hand on the butt of his holstered vornskr revolver. Who the hell was this? He equally casually stopped to a halt and turned to the whispering man with a mask. Roman was having doubts if sexual healing would be enough. Man had that intense feeling, a grim one, a dark one. Not a person you wanted in your social circle.

"What priests?" he lied honestly. Playing dumb was still a card in his deck.

Atlas Kane

 

[Bernard]

God I'm terrible at this

 

[Atlas Kane]

The abrupt break in the other's stride was mirrored by Atlas. He stood upright, close enough to the stranger to keep from having to strain his voice. His eyes took in every movement carefully from behind the shaded transparisteel.

"You're deeper into this mess than you let on. I've been looking for them, too. There's a reason you didn't take that thug's credits. Whatever you found on him was more valuable than that." he gestured to the man with his palm faced up, fingers curled inward slightly, as though he expected something to be placed there, physically or metaphorically.

He kept the thumb of his other hand tucked into the utility belt beneath his robes, using his elbow to keep the cloak from concealing his arm. The metal hilt of his lightsabre stayed out of sight behind another layer of his robes, but he didn't want to appear like he was threatening the man. At this moment the stranger was his best chance at realizing his goals. He didn't intend to burn every bridge today.

The Fool

 

[The Fool]

With a sigh, Roman turned to face the masked man with a stain on his attire. A presumptuous man, implied by his open hand and impertinence. The problem-solver kept his hands in the pockets of his long cloak but shuffled his feet intently. Looking casual, but he had subtly shifted to a half-Teras Kasi stance. Failsafe maneuvers, you know.

"Thought I gave it to you, friendo." he grumbled with a grimace, eyeing the man from head to toe expecting anything. Roman let the silence reign in for a few moments before giving up on playing the dumb card. For now. "What the hell do you want with the priests?" masked man was no rival runner, that was certain. He'd never go upfront to him about the priests, would've just tried shooting him in the back. So who the hell was this guy?

"What's in it for you?"

Atlas Kane

 

[Atlas Kane]

He shifted his weight, too distracted by lingering vexation to notice the subtle shift in the stranger's footing.

"I don't mean them any harm if that's what you're worried about." he replied.

From the sidelines of the street a pair, one near-human and a nikto, passed them, doing their best to ignore the tension. A few low-lives were gawking at the two men conversing from their balconies with mild interest. It wasn't too common that folks simply stopped to chat. The streets of Nar Shaddaa were replete with ruffians and gangsters just ready to jump a few tourists unaccustomed to the world's rhythm.

The Fool

 

[The Fool]

He scowled at the few passersby urging them to move on with their business. Their feet made haste in obedience.

"You didn't answer my question-" Roman's eyes shifted back at the masked stranger. "What's. In it. For you?"

On the off-chance things got nasty, the investigator hoped he was well prepared.

Atlas Kane