The Poison Pawn

[Blitz]

Nar Shaddaa
Red Light Sector

The Galaxy was not what it used to be. In the grand scope of change, the affects of various events notable to nearly all sentient life had shaken the foundation of what most considered to be possible. Ripples would forever affect the collective life force of the Galaxy itself from the cataclysmic stone that had been chucked into the proverbial waters of the cosmos. Among the enterprising factions, change also had to be made as well as accepted. A break of allegiance, a testimony to the notion that tradition and blind faith were not enough to sway the loyalty of the chemist. Blitz saw opportunity, he saw advantage, and what he didn't see was that once great and feared dealers in the criminal element being of anymore use. A parting of ways had distanced himself from that brigade, and while that would certainly shortchange his reach, it was also an investment in the future. There were other avenues to explore, some birthed almost exclusively by the mysterious events that surrounded the Netherworld. He had remained, and stayed his hand for the time being before wading back into the pool and looking at what kind of situations he could be presented with.

Due to the lack of concrete connections he once held, the half-breed spice king had been biding his time. Splitting the difference between maintaining his family allegiance and investing some funds here and there on Nar Shaddaa. The Red Ravens had grown quite expansively despite their regime change hand over fist. While they were no longer out to destroy the Black Sun, it seemed that the stagnant group of crime lords were doomed to fall into obscurity. That would not be the fate of Blitz, he'd not put himself into a forgettable footnote in the relics of historical flimsi. Though despite his self imposed schedule of shady deals and crafting the special stimulant deathsticks he was known for, Amaul also had other vices. One of which was hosted at a semi-private gaming consortium that was known for less than reputable types to have a bit of peace and quiet provided the right credits changed hands. In his time abroad - shortly after coming to grips with the death of his siblings, Blitz had been taught and excelled in the game of Dejarik. A game of skill, cunning and strategy that fit nicely into his repertoire of skill-sets. If he had perused it as more than a hobby, it was likely he'd be one of the better players in the verse by a landslide, but even without that level of devotion, he was a formidable opponent.

An eclectic blend of non-labels decorated the crime lord in a variation of bright colors and blend of fabrics. Everything about the man told of a level of swagger that was nothing but genuine style. He made his own rules about trends and fashioned something truly purposed in the seemingly haphazard array of non-matching attire. Seated before an inert and rotund holo-table featuring the classic checkerboard pattern of Dejarik, Blitz scrolled through the various opponents that would transmit their own moves through the holo-net. Profiles on the gaming boards flew by in tones of holographic blue, while he attempted to pick a new opponent for a match. The amount of credits he laid down monthly also allowed the rather unprecedented partner in crime. Krieg, the beak monkey companion and 'little brother' was currently fixated on a large metallic coin that was forcibly gripped in all four appendages and gnawed on like some kind of teething baby. With is pet occupied and resting on the back of the semi-circle booth, Blitz was free to concentrate and look for his next challenge.


[member="Chiasa Kritivaas"]

 

[Chiasa Kritivaas]

//Competitor Found - Please Wait//

The message flashed across the screen. Surprising for several reasons. Firstly because the man hadn't queued himself to be automatically matched with anyone, and secondly depending on just how intimately familiar he was with the verbage of the gaming consortium, likely very, he might note the use of the term competitor rather than opponent. No big deal, except that together they suggested someone was playing their own game within the system.

That someone just happened to be one of the many employed by one Chiasa Kritivaas, President (because apparently the Space Mafia was structured like the very confused love-child of a company and a country) of the Red Ravens. Why and how you ask? Well here's the haps, paps.

Quite frankly the Ravens didn't enforce Nar Shaddaa very heavily. You couldn't, it was a waste of resources, a losing battle and at best you'd slowly drive people away and lose your own source of revenue. For the most part the Smugglers Moon was left to just get on with it. That said there were one or two things they did watch for. Any new gangs that started growing too quickly or causing too much mayhem. They'd started off this way after all and look at what had happened to those who had ignored them? Oh right, you largely couldn't because they'd been forcibly retired. And anyone who started to corner too much of the drug trade. Oh sure, the Ravens dabbled in grand theft of all sorts, weapons dealing and the like, but their bread and butter when it came to illegal activity was drugs. Chiasa and the Ravens as a whole loved credits, and hated those who cost them credits. So while the dealer with second rate spice on the corner was ignored unless he was stupid enough to be out and about when the Ravens were making their rounds, anyone with product or capacity that rivalled the Ravens was not.

Someone was making Deathsticks the Ravens apparently couldn't match. This had come up when a user had tried to buy them from a Raven dealer, much to their confusion. Word had reached Chiasa, and she'd started looking into it. Convenient that she had one of the better Infochants on Nar Shaddaa in her employ. The Promenade Princess, as she was known, did indeed know who was the likely producer and purveyor. She also knew at least one of the places he could be found.

When it had come out that he'd been quite high up the food chain in the Black Suns, well, it had made the Twi'lek a little more wary but also a little more curious. All of which had culminated in her little stunt.

The Twi'lek made her way to the booth, informed via commlink that everything had been arranged. She was dressed as usual in another variation on the little black dress, skin and stripes as much a calling card as the Red Ravens sigil itself at this point. Chiasa was not a Dejarik master, but she was cunning enough and good enough at predicting what her opponents would do that she could generally hold her own. She'd been taught originally, years ago, because it was decided that she ought to be able to play against any Patron who wished to. Of course back then the idea had been to be just good enough to keep their interest, but always to lose in the end. She'd never been very good at that part.

As she seated herself with a rather amused smile, the screen flashed again

//Commencing Game//

"You will pardon my intrusion, I hope."

[member="Blitz"]

 

[Blitz]

The pairing of forefinger and middle digit gloved in leather paused from their swiping across the holographic display. Directing their collective attention downwards, the motion of tapping began, ticking away the seconds of an unseen clock while contemplating the message that flashed across the screen, interrupting his quiet search for an opponent. In succession the rest of the phalanges began their drum roll of a beat upon the checkered table while the man attached wondered in earnest at what kind of surprise he'd be met with next. A pixelated question mark flashed for a few moments upon the digital shades before vanishing back into the obsidian hue that kept his expressive eyes muted and unseen. Rarely did Blitz react in any kind of hurried pace to surprises or confrontations - whether a byproduct of the consistent stream of drugs in his system, or his own methodical approach to nearly every avenue of life - he wasn't easily rattled. That however did not mean he wasn't concerned, evident by the knitting of his eyebrows in contemplation while the missive of a competitor continued to scroll across the screen. It was in the very least, something he wasn't expecting - and by all accounts it was both curious and refreshing.

Competition was a word all too familiar to the spice dealer - and one that he swiftly and mercilessly out maneuvered. Instead of relying on just one aspect of dominating the playing field, Blitz employed a healthy dose of tactics that were custom and tailored to suit the needs of the situation. Basic principles aside, it was that unique blend of detail that had allowed him to shut out several small time outfits, until he started working on the larger conglomerates. Where one required subtle buy-outs, another would need brute force, and yet another would have to contend with custom product that they couldn't reproduce or contend with. Getting inside his head was something few had been able to do, either by the Force or otherwise. While he admired competition, doing so with his intellect and tactical prowess was hard to come by. He liked challenges, but didn't always find them as satisfying as he would have otherwise preferred. Perhaps this fork in the proverbial road would prove otherwise - and he intended to wait it out and see just what the evening would bring him.

Lazy tendrils of serpentine smoke pulled upwards from the corner of thick lips and flared nostrils, letting the muted drag of his deathstick curl into the air above him. From the customized stash on his person, the blend of narcotic and hallucinogenic properties served to calm and relax the body, but keep the mind in sharp focus. A deathstick for every purpose he wanted, and then some. Resting back against the booth's comfortable fabric, with one hand clipping the metallic lighter into a transferred grip between his fingers back and forth - Amaul waited for his opponent, but he wasn't being kept in suspense much longer. Tiger stripes and black fabric caught the attention of many, the shrewd by appreciated contrast was both sultry and powerful in both stride and appearance. However, despite the Twi-lek's unique visage, she was a recognized face in the business of all things illegal, and especially on Nar Shaddaa. Blitz kept himself appraised of the movers and shakers, and someone of her caliber was not one to be missed, nor trifled with in any incomplete or whim generated interaction.

"In da city where crime is law, a pardon is the least of our concerns." Blitz replied in his signature drawl, turning the respectable yet rhetoric request into a moot point while Chiasa took a seat across from him, as the holo-table activated, drawing up the various holographic images of the creatures that hailed from all across the Galaxy. Even some of them nothing more than lore and myth decorated the board. By this time, Krieg had dropped the coin, and was perched in anxious anticipation at the newcomer. A screech of warning given from his vocals before it was quelled by the ruffling of his fur from Blitz' unoccupied hand. "Easy little brother, da lady just wants a good game." Plucking the stick from his lips, and sliding the thin cylinder into one of his vest pockets for easy access and storage. From there, a quick key command on the edge of the table offered up the first move, causing a lithe blue creature to saunter forward on space and then to the immediate right, brandishing it's weapon against the gathered enemy. "Reputation and reality don't do you justice - so how did I warrant this invite?" He asked, though it truly wasn't an invitation as much as it was a one-sided arranged meeting of the minds.

[member="Chiasa Kritivaas"]

 

[Chiasa Kritivaas]

His observation won a quick smile. It was for the best that crime was law where she operated, certainly she'd be granted no pardons otherwise. This brought to mind the incident of reporting her own ships stolen to a planetary police force when a company had tried to have them repossessed. Yes. Crime was law where she held sway. It was interesting to her, the balance between ego and realism she had to manage. Ego because one had to seem certain and untouchable all the time if one wanted to remain in power. Realism because in truth she was one Twi'lek. Half trained in the Force, half trained in combat. Outclassed by most of the galaxy. If they were allowed to catch on. Keeping people in their place without antagonizing them enough that they lashed out and learned she was very, very mortal.. This was a far harder and more delicate than any game of Dejarik.

The beek-monkey was not on the list of creatures the Twi'lek approved of she decided. There was something both worrying and undignified about them. Nothing that ridiculous out to be able to give off that air of menace at the drop of a hat. It wasn't as if it was a proper predator. Still, Chiasa dealt with this the way she dealt with a great many things she didn't like but had to tolerate. She ignored it.

Lips quirked up again at his question. Invitation. Close enough. How to reply? Truth? Half-truth? Allusion? Threat? Promise?

"I listen. And I watch. Not always with my own eyes and ears, as I'm sure you understand."

She considered his move, and what hers would be in return.

"Eventually I heard about an operation that wasn't mine. It did not take long to tie it to you. Or to find you after."

Yellow eyes flicked up from the board to pin him for a moment, before a slight shrug and a keyed command. A tri-tentacled, gaping-mouthed slug moved up to counter his first move.

"I generally do not tolerate competition above a certain level but.. Your compatriots are gone. Dead or withered, slunk away. And yet here you are. Curiosity then, for the man still standing after his Empire fell."

Not that it had been entirely his, but he'd certainly been in the upper echelons. Though it hadn't really occurred to her as a motivator until now, she recognized a certain morbidness to her curiosity. Empires fell. Those you trusted betrayed you. People drifted away. Momentum died. What happened after? That at least some could sail out the other side of such seas.. Perhaps his very existence was comforting in a way. Assuming he didn't personally offend her of the like of course, still a possibility.

[member="Blitz"]