Private The Nosebleed Section

[Hacks]

Refugee Sector,
Nar Shaddaa

Hacks shut the door gently. She had a sinking feeling that were she any rougher with the crude ancient-style wooden door it may fall off its rusted hinges. It had been a long time since she had seen doors that didn't slide away with a satisfying snap-hiss of hydraulics. Like most of this complex, her apartment was in desperate need for maintenance. Neglected by its many owners for decades, perhaps even centuries.

As her eyes soaked in the room she felt her stomach sink. There was not a lot to take in. It was a small studio apartment, a cracked toilet was disturbingly close to a kitchen that appeared to have mould growing from the sink basin. The shower was nothing more than a pull-curtain, rusted shower head and a drain on the tiled floor. Crude graffiti splashed the walls, messages from low level street gangs and the odd kids skipping class from the nearby schools. The single ceiling light flickered above her, illuminating the rest of the room that was bare of furniture. Not even a mattress to sleep on.

A message flashed across her augmented glasses. "Phase," Hacks muttered with a hint of frustration. The Iridium fixer had organised this mess. Then again, Hacks hadn't offered her a single cred for the deal, it was done out of the kindness of the womans heart. Hacks had been desperate to leave Denon, threats closing in and no allies to count on. The only contacts she had were Koda Fett, Argos and Phase, and Hacks wasn't yet inclined to call in the favour Fett owed her.

She uprooted what felt like the only life she knew and moved back to Nar Shaddaa. She grew up here, but Denon was uniquely important to Hacks. She would miss it. The call was still ringing as her mind snapped back to the present. Hacks finally answered in defeat, no point avoiding a fixer who had done nothing but good by you.

PH453: Hacks, you made it to Nar Shaddaa alright?

Hacks: Alright enough, Phase. Found the keys just where you told me they'd be, but you could have warned me what I was walking into.

PH453: Yeah well, it's not like you gave me much time, and I don't remember you paying for it.

Hacks: Fair, sorry Phase. Shit's been real stressful lately. Don't got no one to call on.

PH453: I've got contacts on the moon, I'll check in and see if I can organise some work for you, but your first cheques going to me for what you owe.

Hacks: Yeah yeah, twenty-k and we're even.

PH453: Good girl. Now Hacks, I should warn you. KV-N1 knows you've left. They've got the intel, looking to sell it to the Corpos and whoever else may want to go hunting for you. Can't guarantee your safety anymore. . . so rest up and start finding some friends quick, I'll talk to you tomorrow and get back to you about those jobs. Peace.

The line ended abruptly before Hacks could say anything more. "Fuck!" she shouted, fists clenching. She had spent so much of her life climbing the ladder only to be kicked down when she was so close to the top. She scanned the room once more, "Screw this," she said and checked her accounts, her glasses responding to the neural command. Just enough creds for dinner tonight, good enough. She turned and left the way she had come, slamming the fragile door behind her with a horrible crack.

Down dimly lit hallways, crowded by human detritus who huddled around as they consumed spice or talked about the latest murders on the street. Hacks pulled her collars up and kept her eyes cast down. She knew how to work these streets, to stay safe. The body language you use to make sure no upstart gangster tried to make a name for themselves by targeting you. She jogged down the stairs, dodging last nights vomit from a partygoer who hadn't made it home in time. A Rodian slumped by the wall nearby, she stared for a moment to see if he was dead. The head drooped against its chest moved with the slightest hint of breathing.

She brushed past the dozing junkie and out the doors of the apartment complex entrance. Neon lights assaulted her eyes and she quickly shielded her vision for a moment with a mechanical hand. Speeders whizzed by. Distant blaster shots rang out into the night. Music blared loudly from a nearby window. She glanced across the road where the world suddenly dropped hundreds of levels deep into the city. "Time to find dinner," she whispered to herself and turned right, towards a market she knew was still open at this time of night. As she walked she flicked through her contacts list, searching for Argos.

 

[Argos of the East]

"- don't see why its an issue, I paid you good creds.", Argos of the East said with an annoyed tone.​

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"Three is my limit. I already-", the half clad dancer said to him - but the ringing of his phone interjected.​

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"Aight, fine, shut up. Find someone lonely.", Argos offered back quickly, picking up the phone mid sentence - just enough for Hacks hear half of the debauchery.​

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"Hacks, baby!", Argos laughed. Just as quickly he turned away from the holocomm, showing only his bust, and slapped someone below frame away. In the next, he stood and began to put a robe on as he walked towards the balconey.​

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"Some of my guys been keeping tabs, say you found yourself a real shit hole in the bottom end. Nothing but Junkies and Sewer Rats down there, Hacks - you gotta find some better digs.", he said.​

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Interrupting her response, he turned around and saw two men arguing with eachother over another dancer. He whistled at them, motioned for one to move on - said something about there being too many free whores for them to fight over one. Argos sighed, lit up a cigarette, and exhaled slowly as the door to the balcony closed, sound proofing him from the inside.​

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"I'm not giving you the respect you deserve - I apologize.", he offered, but he said it so quick it felt more obligatory than sincere.​

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"What're you calling me for, four arms?"​

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Hacks​

 

[Hacks]

Argos of the East, just one of many fixers in her contacts but the only one she could trust right now. She dialled the contact and waited for his answer, dodging street-speeders and pedestrians as she made way for the markets. Acidic sheets of rain began to fall, many ran for cover while others brought their jackets closer to them to shield themselves from the subtle burn of the Vertical Citys' polluted climate control. Then Argos answered.

Argos: Hacks, baby!

Argos laughed. Just as quickly he turned away from the holocom, showing only his bust, and slapped someone below frame away. In the next, he stood and began to put a robe on as he walked.

Argos: Some of my guys been keeping tabs, say you found yourself a real shit hole in the bottom end. Nothing but Junkies and Sewer Rats down there, Hacks - you gotta find some better digs.

The fixer interrupted Hacks as she went to reply. Argos turned around and whistled, motioning at someone Hacks couldn't see from the feed. A quiet conversation ensued as Hacks waited. Argos then sighed, lit up a cigarette, and exhaled slowly.

Argos: I'm not giving you the respect you deserve - I apologize. What're you calling me for, four arms?

Hacks: I need work, you know these streets better than I do. Meet me at Mottainai Markets, Refugee Sector. We can talk shop there. Can't stay long on call, KV-N1 is keeping tabs on me. I'll see you soon, and before I go, maybe see a shrink about fixing that attention span of yours.

Hacks ended the call, returning to reality. She was drenched now and felt the light burn of the acidic wash on her prickled skin. The markets were only a few metres ahead, a river of bodies swept through its entrance. She kept her head low and followed the crowd in. Exotic foods tempted her senses as she sniffed the air. She peered into a stall, steam wafting her face as she eyed roasted Kowakian monkey-lizard on a spit. An elderly Twi'lek pushed a kebab towards her, demanding she buy it.

The slicer peeled herself away from the barbeque and kept moving along, eyes danced stall to stall as she browsed the various wares. Some sold blasters with their identification chips removed so law enforcement could not trace them. Premium spice in ornate handheld boxes rested on red silk. Datachips with ambiguous titles peddled by an aging netrunner.

Then she saw just what her stomach craved. Noodles. She shouldered her way through the crowd, at seven foot, two hundred kilograms and four cybernetic arms, few were prone to get angry at her shoving her way past. She grabbed a stool and dragged it across the duracrete ground and rested herself at the counter of the noodle shop. She'd wait for Argos here and get herself a feed.

 

[Argos of the East]

"Because I'm fucking busy!", he replied, suddenly annoyed. Issue was, she already hung up - so only the static of a dead line received his short wraith.

He sighed, motioned for someone to collect his clothes, and grabbed the first sucker he found to drive his car. He made too much money to drive himself at this point, and he just paid for 20 dancers to service his men. It's the least the could demand.

---

When the speeder came to a halt, Argos glanced out the window. For as nice as his speeder was, he caught a few stares - some with hunger at the opportunity of boosting his wheels. He set his jaw and opened the door.

That hunger, that predatory criminal instinct fell off every face that saw who got out. Argos spit on a bum too close to the curb, put his sunglasses on, and blatantly put a disintegrater in his waistband. No point hiding he was strapped, they should know better.

He slapped the top of the car and leaned in -

"Stay with the speeder - I better not have any bum vomit on it when I'm back."

The driver nodded, shut it down and stepped out to stand guard. Argos walked by - asked a few questions to no avail, then gave up when he saw the towering cybernetic form of a shadowrunner stuffing her face with noodles. Cheap nasty ones at that.

"You like this shit?", he said pointing to her bowl as he sat.

"Couldn't of met me in a nicer dig. Even a corporate hole like HuttaBurger?", he said, lighting a cigarette.

"Place reeks. Sit down here too long you're not gonna get the stench off of you."

Hacks

 

[Hacks]

The noodles were simple yet perfect. It was exactly how she liked them. She plucked at them with her chopsticks, enjoying her bowl as Argos came up behind her. She let out a quiet sigh, shit was already drooling out of his mouth. "You like this shit?" the fixer barked, saddling up to the counter beside her. "Are you usually this insufferable?" she asked with a cheeky smile on her lips, not yet making eye contact with him as she continued to eat.

"Couldn't of met me in a nicer dig. Even a corporate hole like HuttaBurger?" Argos said, smoke rose from the lit cigarette between his lips, "Place reeks. Sit down here too long you're not gonna get the stench off of you." Hacks scoffed aloud, eyes downcast as she stuffed her mouth, speaking between mouthfuls, waving her chopsticks for emphasis, "That's rich coming from someone that smokes, you assholes smell like shit all day from the sticks you suck on."

"But I didn't ask you to meet so we can bark at each other all night," Hacks said, motioning to the woman behind the counter with a two-fingered wave. Two bottles of undisclosed beer were brought forward. It smelt terrible, likely homebrewed and strong as hell. Hacks washed down the noodles with a long chug from the bottle. "I don't even have a bed to sleep on tonight, I need work and quick. I want to know who's who, and what work I can get myself."

 

[Argos of the East]

He sucked through his teeth at the disrespect, spit on the ground in earnest before he frowned;​

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"You usually demanding shit of fixers? Remember where you are for a second."​

​

But that's all he said on the matter - the nature of the underworld came down to something really simple, respect. Most often it was because the people involved were insecure, knew that the moment people doubted them they'd lose that security - they secured their position through fear, not weapons or creds. In Argos case, it was a bit of all of them - being no longer the enforcer and shock boxer he once was, he was little more than a middle aged man with young man ambitions.​

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He sucked down part of the cigarette, briefly considered putting it out in her noodles, but decided he'd done enough already. Instead he simply tossed it - and felt suddenly disgusted with a nearby junky picked up the roach of what was left and sucked on it himself. His frown deepened, and he turned back;​

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"The Consortium's formed a council in these parts. Seperating things on rackets - but here's the deal, Hacks , probably ain't gonna last long. If you need jobs, I got jobs - but I want to know your limits. Koda Fett ? Won't do any business with kids - tried getting him to hold a family hostage once, man refused me. Means I won't pay him as much knowing he's sugar footed like that."​

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"So - got any moral ambitions? Crusades for the poor you wanna tell me now?"​

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Hacks​

 

[Hacks]

Argos was silent for a moment, hacking phlegm onto the pavement. He then spoke in that coarse tone his voice always carried, like gravel was stuck in his throat, "You usually demanding shit of fixers? Remember where you are for a second." Hacks picked at the last of her noodles, silent as Argos tossed his cigarette aside but not before eyeing her own noodles with a devious lingering temptation.

"The Consortium's formed a council in these parts. Separating things on rackets - but here's the deal, Hacks, probably ain't gonna last long. If you need jobs, I got jobs - but I want to know your limits." Argos said, "Koda Fett? Won't do any business with kids - tried getting him to hold a family hostage once, man refused me. Means I won't pay him as much knowing he's sugar footed like that. So - got any moral ambitions? Crusades for the poor you wanna tell me now?

The slicer dropped her chopsticks into the bowl and pushed it forward, then turned to face Argos. Her plastic eyes searched the reflection of his glasses, answering his first question, "Not usually the type to demand, but I'm not a fan of you talking to me like shit, can't handle what you give?" she teased, a thin smile on her lips as her eyebrows raised. A metal hand reached for the beer and she took another swig, "I left Denon because of kids and crusades," she paused to think, then said, "I do what I get paid to do. No questions asked. End of."

 

[Argos of the East]

Argos toyed with his fingers like he still held a cigarette - a bad habit that existed even in the metal of his prosthetic. He eyed Hacks through the dark shades, sucking on his teeth like there was something stuck, then spit again.​

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"Remember who I am, Hacks.", he offered back - cold and simple. There was no anger to it, no condescending coyness - just the calculated threats of a man known to bury his enemies. He let that linger, then spoke;​

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"Point is, I'm happy to give you work - too many criminals nowadays got ambitions, limits. Way I see it - the more limits you have, the less money you make. Get this, the Kraken Coalition? Members of the Council, the stupid fucks, think's slavery is a sin. You know what I think of when I hear slavery?"​

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He rubbed his metal fingers together between them, smiling.​

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"I think of money. Shiny new creds right in my pocket, Hacks. I'm rebuilding the Galactic Slave Trade - got some contacts willing to raid some planets, get me a fresh batch for an auction coming up. Slavery's been on the out and out for years thanks to Jedi interference, so prices are high. Some greasy sleeze in the Core wants a hot twilek girlfriend, doesn't want to put the effort into picking one up at the bar - so we'll deliver one to his door. Chains and all."​

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Argos took the beer she had ordered and smelled it. He cringed, but drank it down and set it aside -​

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"Here's where you come in. I need a network set up on the darknet, a way for someone on Coruscant to buy that hot twilek girlfriend without sending me pigeon mail. More than that, got a second job - security operations at the auction we're running. First pays fifty, second pays twenty. Deposit right for your account."​

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Hacks​

 

[Hacks]

"Remember who I am, Hacks," Argos offered back at her disrespect. Hacks held his gaze with an unflinching stare, her plastic eyes never blinked. She had worked for executives who held the lives of trillions in their hands, ruled entire systems. What did Argos rule? A suburb? Hacks thought. She had spent a lifetime around his kind, raised by them. She didn't back down when they barked, nor could they put fear into her. Lysle of the Hydian Way had taught her to be better than that.

"Noted," she said dryly, her smile dropping in disappointment but not surrender, eyes returning to her beer as she finished the bottle and motioned for another. Metal fingers pinched the cap, peeled the aluminium from the neck and flicked it aside. Argos continued, "Point is, I'm happy to give you work - too many criminals nowadays got ambitions, limits. Way I see it - the more limits you have, the less money you make. Get this, the Kraken Coalition? Members of the Council, the stupid fucks, think's slavery is a sin. You know what I think of when I hear slavery?"

Hacks twisted in her chair and returned to stare away from the fixer, enjoying her beer as she listened. Argos rubbed his fingers together, "I think of money. Shiny new creds right in my pocket, Hacks. I'm rebuilding the Galactic Slave Trade - got some contacts willing to raid some planets, get me a fresh batch for an auction coming up. Slavery's been on the out and out for years thanks to Jedi interference, so prices are high. Some greasy sleeze in the Core wants a hot twilek girlfriend, doesn't want to put the effort into picking one up at the bar - so we'll deliver one to his door. Chains and all."

Argos seemed to get the hint and finally joined her, taking a reluctant swig from the bottle, "Here's where you come in. I need a network set up on the darknet, a way for someone on Coruscant to buy that hot twilek girlfriend without sending me pigeon mail. More than that, got a second job - security operations at the auction we're running. First pays fifty, second pays twenty. Deposit right for your account."

"We're all slaves one way or another," she commented. Whether it was her addiction for pushing her body to the extremes of cybernetic modifications or the spice she desperately chased, she was a slave herself. Mental, rather than physical, but helpless nonetheless. Others like the dirtkids of Denon who were forced into a cycle of suffocating capitalism, consume or die. "I'll get the job done, but the second one... I can run sysop, but I ain't no solo like Fett. I'm not a bruiser, I'm a slicer."

 

[Argos of the East]

"You're big and scary, but I didn't plan for you to stand around looking pretty.", he said before taking another long sip of the beer. He cringed less the second time.​

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"Used to drink these back in the day when I couldn't afford anything better."​

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He looked over the bottle, the small comical hutt giving a thumbs on up its label. There was something always appealing about the up and coming, the down trodden way of life - something he hadn't truly broken free from, even now. He might throw on a poorly made suit every once and while, but the combat boots and cigarettes always seemed to drag him back.​

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"Consider it done then - You'll get your money when its done.", before he set the bottle down and frowned.​

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"So what's your plan here? Just going to live in the slums until you overdose on painkillers, kid?"​

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Hacks​

 

[Hacks]

"You're big and scary, but I didn't plan for you to stand around looking pretty," Argos said, taking a swig from the beer. "Used to drink these back in the day when I couldn't afford anything better." The fixer set his bottle down on the counter, "Consider it done then - You'll get your money when its done. So what's your plan here? Just going to live in the slums until you overdose on painkillers, kid?"

Hacks turned to him slowly as he eyed the bottle of beer, leaning in slowly as she whispered, "I don't know, Argos, I like to think I'm good at being-" Cracks along her face began to appear, synthskin plates shifted suddenly, her throat wholly exposed. Wires and metal tubes. Teeth retracted upwards, out of sight. Two pre-loaded syringes came out, ready to strike. Her voice spoke in an unnatural synthesized tone, "Pretty."

Then the syringes retracted, plates shifted and closed. The cracks along her skin faded. She pulled away from the fixer and took another swig of her beer. Her lips held a devious smile, something the dirtkids of Denon called a 'shit-eating grin.' It was a mod-junkies sense of humour, though there were many in the galaxy who might see such extreme modifications as losing ones humanity, sense of self. Their soul fading into the machine.

The slicer offered a slight shrug, as if the notion of living down here wasn't so bad, "I like it here. Reminds me of where I came from," she offered back, "And the painkillers the street kids sell ain't bad quality either, guess it pays to live on the Smugglers Moon." She finished her second beer, declined the offer of a third from the woman behind the counter. She pushed back and stood up from the stool, "What else have I got to live for," she said, turning down the mood, "Today I flatline someone, tomorrow someone flatlines me. That's the game."

 

[Argos of the East]

Argos leaned back from her gaping cybernetic maw, frowning at it before it retracted.​

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"You could take some hints on the holonet on how to do better.", he offered passively.​

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"But you got a point kid - without some grand ambitions, about all you can hope for. Nothing wrong with settling. You set yourself up nice, I'll have someone come get you if you're needed. Anything else?"​

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He said as he stood and wiped a mix of oil, sauce, and toxic water drippage off his coat.​

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Hacks​