Wait, You're Not All Legitimate, Are You? [Open]

[Noxu Za'tire]

Nar Shaddaa, Club Ufora
After a Heavy Night of Drinking

Club Ufora​

​

Nar Shaddaa was amongst one of the most ill reputable places in the galaxy. Between the Hutts and the mercs trying to maintain control of the place for as long as it existed, there weren't many other places that had that kind of reputation about it. What came with the reputation was the usual: Gangs, illegal merchants, clubs, sex, drugs, and pretty much anything else that would draw the attention of convicts or conmen.

By the same right, Nar Shaddaa was great for business. That's what was found out long ago by Noxu when he'd first arrived on the moon. Things weren't all that different now compared to then. Noxu still had little money and his business was on the fritz. The nostalgia was strong with him as he wandered about the streets of Nar Shaddaa and made his way over to the club.

This time he knew things were going to be different. He was going to get a good few jobs, pay to have his ship remodeled and get a few upgrades. It was becoming more imperative each and every day to keep his ship in good condition with all the changes in the galaxy that even happened. His little XS Freighter, which was a relic of the past, was something that needed to hold up in the galaxy if he wanted to maintain any form of presence.

As he walked into the club, he kept his eyes out on all the patrons that were there. From the left to the right, there were races of all types. Most of which were going to be known for their illegal activities, especially at the entrance of the club. In the back of the club, however, was where most of the more professional discussions were to be had. Noxu would certainly be toward the front, at first.

The club was everything he'd always remembered and expected it to be, though. Even with its new owner, it didn't seem to be too drastically different -- aside from the sex and violence that happened to be around just about every corner. It was actually turning out to be a respectable place.

So there Noxu was, taking a seat -- not in the front of the club, but not in the back either -- in the middle of the club. The perfect area to scope out new prospects, mingle, or find new business.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[member="Noxu Za'tire"]

Her momma done told Danger a long while ago that a woman is like whiskey.

She evaporates a little over time, distilled by disappointments and grief. One can never predict if the galaxy will take the best of her or the worst. Only time will tell if the woman that remains will be bitter, dispirited, or aged to perfection.

Emerald eyes would stare into the amber liquid in her hand, the low ball glass held in her grip. Ever so slowly, her wrist would rotate, prompting a slow whirlpool of Whyren's best.

Bitter. Dispirited. Or aged to perfection.

Which one am I?

The question would percolate in her mind, writhing like a maggot and eating away at her core. Thoughts rose to the fore; the anger, the catch of breath, and the vulnerability that would follow.

Her knuckles went white against the glass.

Who am I? Danger Arceneau. The Trade Queen. Owner of Arceneau Trade Tech and overseer of the Southern Systems Bazaar. One of the richest women in the galaxy, and one dare say, of the sapients as well. She wasn't some small time girl no more, she had grown and cast her nets for bigger prospects that did more than land a bigger payout. Club Ufora was a testimony to that -- a now favorite watering hole for many of galaxies finest, upstanding criminals and underworlders who would be so inclined to have a refined taste catered to.

What the free flowing of drink didn't loosen tongues, the eager flesh of skilled Twi'lek escorts did the rest. There ain't nothing that don't pass through Danger's arena, and word of mouth had a way of spreading where to fish and where to leave be.

She had everything she could ever wish, right there in the palm of her hand.

Didn't she?

Bitter. Dispirited. Or aged to perfection.

There, standing on the second level of the VIP area, dressed to the nines in a black dress with that mane of red upswept hair in a perfectly coiffed hair do, Dangeruese Rose Arceneau gave a faint grimace and brought the whiskey to her lips.

For once, the hot burn brought little comfort.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Last time Sarge was here, the place had been blown and shot up by the pirate RC; a dumber pirate he'd not had the displeasure of meeting since said pirates capture. True to his word, he'd gotten RC away from Danger's territory permanently. A fact relayed to her by the Ashin clone she kept on retainer. The thought of that woman always put a smile on his face. A little bit of the old Ashin with a hint of Danger.

Nothing wrong with that.

It had been some time since he'd gone out to sneak around, but his spies had told him someone he'd thought long gone wasn't. The name had come up in a routine rundown of interesting new people to the area; ones that might warrant some attention. This particular name, [member="Noxu Za'tire"], wasn't the one warranting attention. His name had been an afterthought. At least until the entire update had ground to a halt as Sarge had grilled the informant for everything he knew on Za'tire.

Ten years?

Something like that.

Last time he'd seen Nox he'd been a juvenile boy, just filling out into adulthood. A terrorist, a rebel. Now here he was, career soldier, Inquisitor, former Jedi Master, and now... head of a government.

My how things changed.

"Your past is showing." His coarse voice says from the shadows, boots carrying him forward towards [member="Danger Arceneau"]. He'd come to stalk Nox, and that meant going old school. Wearing his old Sergeant Major's uniform, camo cloak wrapped tight around broad shoulders and pulled into a hood over his head. A whisper on the wind. The promise of death. A set of eyes in the dark.

That's all he was. That's all he had been.

And there he wasn't.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Nary a sound would carry his presence. He was like a predator, a silent stride that would bring him over to the Trade Queen. Danger didn't turn, instead she would drop the now empty glass from her lips. Dolled up she may be, but she was bred and raised on Tatooine.

Done no one so easily startle Danger; then again [member="Sarge Potteiger"] was in a class all his own.

The corners of her mouth would purse for a second, a subtle gesture that could very well be attributed to the bite of the liquor she'd just imbibed.

A second later, she pasted a sultry smile and her face would relax into a coquettish expression. Her head would turn to face the man, up tilting to present him with the most cordial of smiles.

"Well, ain't this a pleasure. Ain't thought I see you cross my threshold anytime soon... Lord Protector."

Tit for a tat in saying that she was wearing her past.

She didn't need him to remind her of it.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

A tongue flickered out under the shade of his cloak, wetting his lips as he looked down below. Crowds upon crowds. Bartenders, music, escorts. Whatever. This wasn't his place to be. He hated bars. But when he needed to be somewhere, he was there before anyone knew he was even interested. Only one time had that not been the case, and he'd shown up more than prepared to handle what was before him.

"You don't have to kid, Danger. I know I ain't yer favorite person." He says, rolling his shoulders and causing the air to ripple in the process. A hand rose, arm appearing in mid-air to peel back his hood so it could gather at his neck. And just like that, his disembodied head was there, looking down to the people below with tired, black eyes. "Where is he." He says flatly, "Nox."

A hand rose again, gesturing to the crowds. "Nary a wolf crosses your fences that you don't know about." The implication, of course, being that she'd known he was coming. Judging by her reaction, she hadn't. Perhaps his friendly tone would rankle her, perhaps not.

So what did that make him if he wasn't a wolf?

An interesting line of thought for another time. His head lifted, casting a look at her from the corner of his eye. A faint bit of a smirk would pull at his scruffy, scarred features. She may not like him, but... he'd never really had any ill will towards her.

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Seconds would pass.

That come hither gaze that Danger would wear like an accessory would freeze. That name. [member="Noxu Za'tire"]. Memories would come to her. Here, in the very same VIP room they'd stood at before.

Her jaw would tense. She really needed another drink.

"Za'tire?" her brows would arch up into her forehead, as if dismissing the name. "He's dead."

Plain and simple. Done been three years since the report of his death came through and snuffed that painful bit of her past she long though she left dead and buried with her baby ten years ago; leaving her sterile and as empty as empty as a Sacred Way confessional on Primeday.

She would grace him with a cordial smile; habits are hard to break. "Drink?" she would offer; the perfect hostess as ever.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Not considerin' he's here." The man retorts dryly, still scanning the crowds. 'Here' was a relative term. He was on planet. Knowing if the man was in this club was much harder to pinpoint. One man among billiions; near impossible to find on a whim. Turning back towards her, he relaxed his back against the railing no doubt in place to give people a place to set their drinks while they lorded over those below.

That was fairly standard fare, so far as he knew. "Sure, I'll take some whiskey." Cracking his neck, he folded his arms across his chest, waiting to see what she'd have to say about that.

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

 

[Celty Ikon]

Club Ufora. A greater hive of scum and villainy there was not. Or not on Nar Shaddaa, anyway. The place had a long history of being the spot for shady dealings. Imperials, Sith, Jedi, pirates, cops, mercs, and religious types all came here for one common reason: Secrecy. It wasn't like people didn't know where it was, but rather that it was a very crowded place with a reputation that kept most respectable people away from it. Of course, I'm not respectable in most senses of the term. My favorite job was running underground clubs on Dantooine.

But, I was here to scope out something for my gramps. The self-appointed Trade Queen ran this place... Lady Arceneau. It was unlikely that she was here, but I was tracking somebody else, not her. Noxu something-or-other. Apparently a man with good enough connections that the old man wanted him for Dynasty Intel's source list.

This would be fun.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Danger Arceneau"] [member="Noxu Za'tire"]

 

[Noxu Za'tire]

Maybe the business "convention" wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Out of everyone at the club, he'd not met anyone that held any true interest to him. Most of the people he'd seen were low-time lackies that barely wanted to get a start. Thankfully, he wasn't like that at all. He knew what it took to run a business and how to manage one. Sure, his was falling apart and it was only him, but hey. At least he had a business, right?

It wasn't what he expected, that was for certain. After being gone quite a while and only doing little jobs on the side, he was expecting a bit more extravagance. Hell, you should've been a star walkin' in here, he thought to himself, amused. In reality, however, that wasn't what he wanted at all. Staying low and keeping to himself was how he always made it by.... not really.

He knew that wasn't how to make it big or even make money. Nodding over toward the bartender, he asked for a bottle of whiskey. A bottle? Yes. A bottle. He needed it if he was going to make it out of the damn club alive. Standing up from his bar stool, he took a turn to meander off toward more of the back of the club.

Without paying any attention to anything but his drink, he bumped into someone that looked to be straight out of a holo-comic. "Oh, gods damn it. Watch where the hell you're goin'," he grumbled, drink still in hand. Thankfully, he hadn't spilled any of it. He payed good money for that drink! Manners certainly weren't becoming of him, that was a fact. "I almost dropped this!" he exclaimed pointedly at Celty, all the while holding out the bottle out toward the man as if to prove a point.

Noxu stood before him in a long, darkened coat which was covered a bit in dirt. His clothes themselves certainly didn't look to be too dirty, but very unkempt as well. It may have been obvious that he hadn't cared too much about his appearance. At least his outfit was far better off than the majority of the others that talked and mingled.

[member="Danger Arceneau"], [member="Sarge Potteiger"], [member="Celty Ikon"]

 

[Simone]

Simone hadn't been on Nar Shadda long, but she'd been here long enough to know this was a good place to be. A sweet smile and careful flash of her assets had earned her entrance, now all she needed to do was scope it out. So she worked for Khaleel, big deal, there was no contract he just happened to be the person keeping her...well...alive for one. Was it betrayal to look for other contractors?

She slid onto a bar stool and bit her lower lip, in thought. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. The reality of life was simple. You couldn't put all your eggs in one basket, and no matter how competitive this godforsaken planet was, Simone wanted to make sure hers were carefully placed. She rested her elbows on the bar top and ran her eyes over the crowd watching them carefully. She needed to know the lay of the land before she dove in after all.

"Hey, lady!" She glanced over her shoulder at the bartender. "You buying a drink or what?"

Simone swung round and leaned forward, being sure to give him a clear view, a well practiced shy smile on her face. He moved forward, responding to her beckons and taking in as much as he could. "I'll make you a deal..."

She'd make some cash out of this at least.

[member="Noxu Za'tire"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Celty Ikon"] [member="Danger Arceneau"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

The world of a Sith Lord and another of business could be considered to some to be stark in contrast. For the Sith, in this day and age, were a formidable government hell bent on bringing their hegemony across the stars. The Galactic Republic had discovered that when Coruscant fell, when the One Sith had finally shown themselves to the galactic eye. What happened on Manaan, Kashyyk and Prakith afterwards served only as testimony to their strength.

Wealth was a commodity necessary, in most regions of the galaxy, to buy the various things one would need to accumulate power.

Thus, the hooded woman that entered the Club Ufora was one of the various individuals who came and went throughout the day and night. It was not uncommon to see someone like this, enter an established such as the Ufora and move to the corners, drink in hand, to converse or drink quietly. Alicia had done the same, Gizer Ale in hand, watching the room silently.

In particular, she was on the look out for the business convention, as [member="Noxu Za'tire"] put it.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[member="Noxu Za'tire"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"]


Maybe it was because she was out of her element; the most recent interaction with Kuhn and Ovmar making her a mite bit more sensitive.

Or maybe it was just her mulling over what her momma done told her long ago.

Either way, that white-knuckle grip would return and her lips would tense.

"Don't be no done fool. Noxu Za'tire is dead." she told him quite firmly. That was a name she long since left in her past; but still undoubtedly now caused a shaft of pain in her heart.

Where she learned to love.

And when she learned to hate.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge gave [member="Danger Arceneau"] a level stare, face set in stone. "I've never been a fool. When I say someone's alive... they're alive." He'd only been wrong once, and even then he'd only forced himself to accept they were dead after half a year of no sightings and no contact. It hadn't quite taken though by the time she'd returned. Wetting his lips, he reached up to dig the pads of his fingers into his brow.

"Look, it would be easier for everyone if he were dead. Guy's a complete and total fool. Pleasant, but a fool. But I need him. I need him alive. He was the last person I know of to have contact with someone tied to my home." Not that she'd even know where he was from to begin with. No one really did, although most assumed Corellia. Not like he ever discussed the subject anyway.

As ever, his past was haunted by women, and this one had disappeared long, long ago. Ages it felt like. Ages.

Sarge looked absolutely exhausted in that moment, like he was nearing the end of a mental marathon he'd not realized he was running.

 

[Noxu Za'tire]

Noxu gathered his balance back after bumping into [member="Celty Ikon"] and continued on his way. Thankfully, the man didn't take notice of the accident otherwise he would have had some explaining to do. Instead, he continued on his venture to the backward parts of the convention. With the drink in hand, and still managing to not spill any of it, even while he meandered and drank at the same time, he came to the slightly more classy part of the club.

Still, it wasn't as classy as the far back corners of the building. It was enough to give him a better perspective, at least.

"I'll make you a deal..."

That's what he liked to hear. Especially coming from such a classy place as Ufora. A deal, eh? Maybe I can get in on that, he mused. Walking back over toward the bar, he took a seat beside the woman. Placing his bottle up on the counter, he turned slightly to look at @Simone. "I heard somethin' 'bout a deal?" came the attempted charming question.

He sat relaxed and comfortable on the barstool, with his attention half on the woman beside him and the other half on his drink. "What's this deal you're speakin' about, hm?"

[member="Danger Arceneau"], [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

The saying went 'You could knock me over with a feather.'

If Danger hadn't had years to practice at holding her bearing in the most trying of business deals, she could have well fainted. Instead, she showed her hand in a far more subtle way that for her was very telling.

The blood drained from her face, a fine trembling came to her hand, tightening her grip on the empty glass so hard one would wonder if it would shatter.

Her lips would tremble in the contracting signals to paste a smile and to bite her tongue.

He couldn't be.

There was no karkin' way.

Noxu Za'tire was done dead and buried in the glaciers of Hoth.

He couldn't be alive.

That stinging ache came piercing through her heart like an icepike.

He couldn't.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Two gloved hands, covered in those thick mechanics gloves so favored by soldiers looking to protect their hands as best they could, set themselves on the tops of his knees. Pushing himself to a standing position, cloak wrapping him in nothingness again, he gave her a long, understanding look. Moving over to her, one hand set atop the one threatening to break her glass while the other came to rest on her shoulder.

"It's fine." He says in a voice so reassuring it had to be forced; but it wasn't. He understood this.

He'd been in this place when he'd found out Cira was alive; but unlike him, she had someone around to witness it. "I just need your help to find out where he is. I'm not snooping through your territory without you knowing."

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

 

[Simone]

Simone slunk back from the barman, her rear settling once more onto the stool as [member="Noxu Za'tire"] sat next to her. Eyes flicked over him taking in what she could in three seconds flat. Incredibly attractive, something of a charmer with a smile like that, liked his drink but not enough to let something like the word 'deal' pass him by. He was comfortable in his surroundings, a regular perhaps, or someone that held more bearing in this place than a customary glance would first assume.

She glanced towards the bartender who gave a nonchalent shrug. "Nothing too fancy." she began slowly "Simple, something from my younger days that would keep me fed and happy in the knowledge that I was safe where I drank. If the bartender has your back, so do the bouncers, the owners so on and so forth" She ran her eyes over the crowd, "Guy offers to buy you a drink, you request your 'usual' from the bartender...I'm sorry sweet, I don't know your name..."

"Kev." he said listening intently.

"Kev, ok. Kev here would hear my request, and get me a drink in a dark glass. Drink is water, glass is dark so who you're drinking with doesn't see what your drinking, but he's getting charged for whatever...whisky, expensive wine depends on how much money you want to make. At the end of the night, takings get split fifty fifty. I go home, sober and safe with a heavier purse, and Kev gets a nice tip to take home to missus Kev." she winked at the bartender who grinned.

Simone rested one arm and the bar and settled her gaze on her new companion. "The better target you pick, the greater the benefits." she offered a hand. "Simone."

 

[Noxu Za'tire]

He sat there. He listened. That's all he really could do. It turned out the pretty young lady was definitely a talker. What a talker, though. Unlike most other women he knew, this one just didn't seem to want to stop talking. Yep, you're goin' to need more to drink, he snickered mentally. Of course, even if she was a talker, the woman was quite attractive. He was certain he could get past the inane ramblings of ... well... whatever the hell she was going on about. He actually found himself not paying a single bit of attention to what she was saying.

Ah well.

He found her extending her hand toward him and vaguely recalled giving her name out. "Hauk. I'm Hauk Fenshire," he said with a small grin. "Seems you know a thing or two about benefits," came the sly smirk. Reaching his hand to hers, he gave a strong, tight handshake.

"Lots of good targets here, that's for sure. Some more dangerous lookin' than others." He wouldn't even need to point out any of the dangerous looking characters that stood around. Most of which were hungry for a job and eager for money all the while having little to no morals about what they did. A wonderful terrible combination.

"You're too good lookin' to be in a dive like this. What brings you to these parts?" A dumb question, without a doubt, but not without its purposes. Of course he knew why she'd be here and it wasn't for the wonderful company the convention withheld inside. "Certainly not the benefits, I'd wager," came the playful sarcasm.

[member="Simone"]

 

[Simone]

Simone raised an eyebrow. In one fail swoop, he'd written off the little bit of interest she'd had in in him. Bad chat up lines were such a killer. Her game didn't interest him, she'd wager he was lying about his name, probably pegged her down as just a pretty face that would make his night a little bit more colorful.

"Dangerous targets make for a better payday." she replied coolly. "And paydays bring pretty faces to all the dives. What about you, Hauk?" she didn't like the way the name rolled off her tongue, left a bad taste in her mouth. She'd play along all the same, pretty faces that provided entertainment worked both ways. "What brings you to the hell hole that is Nar Shadda?"

[member="Noxu Za'tire"]

 

[Noxu Za'tire]

[member="Simone"]

Noxu looked around when the question was asked of him. "What brings me? Well, it sure ain't the company," he said with a small laugh, the point being made for all the thugs around them. "Business. Y'know, the good kind of business. The legit kind." For him, just about any kind of business was legitimate -- so long as it paid. "Can't say I've ever really cared for this dive, but hell, if I can get work or get someone for work, I'm fine," he mused.

"Hell, the thugs of the place are willin' to stick their necks out for just about anythin' and for little pay." He knew how it went. Life on Nar Shaddaa was rough and any amount of credits helped one make it by. It was even better if the person was able to actually get off the streets and into an apartment, although that happened rarely.

He shuddered at the thought of living on the streets again and was immediately grateful for his ship. Bringing the bottle up to his lips, he took a swig of the alcohol within to give himself a very brief moment to reminisce about his old ship before it was a heaping pile of metal.

"Not one to work for the thugs, but ain't no problem of mine to hire 'em, y'know?" he asked pointedly. "What about you? What kind of work are you lookin' for? Somethin' to get your hands dirty or keep 'em clean?"