With Friends like these (Red Devil Cartel/Open Party Thread)

[Jim Pehico]

He had a point, sure Jim was a criminal in the sense that he has smuggled stuff illegally. However, Jim typically never broke laws, just for the hell of breaking laws. Plus he was drinking so much during this time that he had gotten alcohol poisoning twice, This was not Jim's proudest moment he looked over at Hala and sighed,

"Look boss, I've gotta be fair to you and say it, I'm not the guy your looking for VP I'm not a hardened criminal, sure I've got a silver tongue but I don't have the ruthlessness that you all have, that being said if Marcus won't accept my position, I have several other candidates."

Jim held a datapad to her, on it were 3 faces, an ancient droid named [member="Macrosoft Mack"], a Mandalorian named [member="Meraal Vaun"], and a psychopath named [member="Edward Blake"] aka The Comedian.

Jim looked at her "Any of those three will do good by you, I've worked with them before, all ruthless and probably more than willing to join your crusade. But if you ever need anything, you have my card. I'm sorry" Jim paid the tab, and walked out. As much as he liked the power of being the VP of a deadly gang it just wasn't who he was. He walked out the bar with his friend Leo, and sipped his lum. He was silent as he walked away from the bar. never looking back, it was a new chapter for Jim and the Red Devil Cartel.

[member="Hala Jast"] [member="Marcus Collier"] [member="Leo Vandermolen"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="B'kik"] [member="Ash"] [member="Marcus Collier"]

Hala set down her cups and the bottle and puled out a seat flanking Ash. To most he might appear scary, except she'd faced down reavers in the void. He was interesting and her spacers eyes told her there was something more here than met the eye. She poured him a shot, letting the amber liquid fill his glass and then poured two for Marcus and herself.

B'kik was chatting him up which was just fine by her, and then Jim left, renouncing his title.

"Well what the heck was tha' all about?" Hala asked, smoothing her black vest.

Without a VP they weren't struck a serious blow. She considered promoting Marcus on the spot, but she wanted to see a little more of him in action first. For now the post would remain vacant, until he could handpick his own successor.

"Alright suit, what you got? Trade deal, racketeering us up?"

 

[Amarant]

@b'kik [member="Hala Jast"] [member="Marcus Collier"]


He looked on as the fellow with mustache made some sort of sweeping confession that he wasn't much of a war-time consigliere, and then sauntered off. The Jawa explained that the group was interested in "aggressive acquisitions" of Hutt territory, and was looking for investors. The woman was straight forward in her line of questioning: Who was he, and what'd he want? He nodded, his dead man's grin ticking up in what was either a sneer or a smirk, followed by a hollow, raspy, tinny laugh.


"My name's Mr. Ash. At least, that's what most folks call me," he leaned forward, his tone strangely upbeat, all things considered. "Name hasn't meant much in nearly a dozen years. Former Vigo of the Black Suns, but these days, I'm an independent dangerous maniac," he said with a dark chuckle. "I run a security firm, formerly a cartel. Answer to the Black Scorpions. Again, a name that hasn't meant much for a while, but if you ask around, you'll find my men were involved with some....fun stories," he mused, remembering a fondly a certain Hutt he had chased by mentally unstable killers unleashed in the slug's own palace. Back when the companions guild was desperate enough to hire a bunch of crazy people to make an example of someone. "Word in the alleys says you guys are the new up and comers. Call this reconnaisance," he said as he looked up from his drink, staring her dead in the eye. "I want to know who all the players are so that I know what I'm dealing with, now that I'm back home. So tell me--are the Devils worth the hype? How should this old ghost look at them? Oh, and thanks for the drink. Nice of you to be so kind," he said with a nod, adjusting his tie as he sipped it.

 

[Luther Lewis]

It was late in the night. Zai had received a message from Hala earlier inviting him for drinks, but his responsibilities meant that he was very late. It had been months since Zai had joined the Red Devil Cartel, his new job to help the gang establish a foothold on Nar Shaddaa. Such a feat would have been easy, were it not for the fact that hundreds of gangs vied for the same goal. Thus, Zai was spending a few late nights to get the edge over the other gangs.

Adjusting to the criminal life was surprisingly easy for Zai. He had grown up as a salvager (and still was one in his heart) and the only law he had learn was "The first to arrive get the best salvage". Growing up with a constant need to scavenge had almost given him kleptomania, and so it felt natural to slip into a life of subterfuge.

The previous owners had left the place in poor condition and Zai was overseeing it's renovation. He had therefore spent most of the day arguing with merchants delivering shipments and contractors quoting on retrofits to the bar. He sorted out a shipment of high grade explosives that morning but was having trouble with his second errand. The issue was with a contractor hired to install reinforcements to the front of the bar. Zai wanted extra pillars built in so the roof wouldn't collapse completely if one of the walls went down, but the workers were stonewalling him until they received more money.

Ideally B'kik would have dealt with all of this, seeing as he was treasurer, but he had a tendency to aggravate people and so he sent Zai out to negotiate for him. However, Zai was bad at determining what was a good deal and B'kik was often annoyed at the amount of money he returned with. Lately B'kik had given him a specific limit and told him not to go over it. This had soured his mood even more. Zai sighed deeply. This bureaucracy was draining his usual bubbly, effervescent behaviour. He needed to take a holiday, maybe to Corusant.

Zai was approaching the entrance to the bar when a man in a long black trench coat walked out the door ([member="Leo Vandermolen"]). Zai gave him a respectful nod that he offered to all of those who visited the bar. Close behind him was [member="Jim Pehico"], with a strange look on his face. "Jim...?" Zai said uncertainly. The older man looked at him sadly, but said nothing. The two of them walked off into the night and Zai entered the bar.

The spacious room had a booze-filled, dangerous atmosphere. Zai immediately relaxed, it was good to be home. Or as close to home as he had at least. B'kik and [member="Hala Jast"] were deep in conversation with a man in a suit, an usual choice of clothing for the slums of Nar Shaddaa. [member="Marcus Collier"] was nearby, listening in on the conversation. Zai waved to them and took a seat opposite Hala, within hearing range for their conversation.

Zai ordered a Corellian ale, the warmth spreading through his body as he downed the drink. Hard knots of muscle loosed and relaxed in his back. The mysterious man introduced himself as Mr [member="Ash"], in a perfectly smooth flawless voice. Zai heard little of what he said, instead studying the man in detail.

The man was a heavily augmented cyborg and was the very model of precision. Every gesture was made was fluid and graceful, every word was enunciated perfectly and his dictation was flawless. His eyes had a calculating hardness to them. Overall the man was perfect, and that made Zai trust him even less.

Ash looked over to him and Zai quickly looked away. He started fiddling with a knife, trying to look like he was bored. Always appear as less than what you are, that was the lesson he learned as a slave. Zai sipped his ale.

 

[RC 212]

[member="Ash"] [member="Zai Avery"] [member="Marcus Collier"] [member="b'kik"]

"You can look at us how you want to look at us Mr. Ash."

She poured him another drink and then grinned.

"The point is by the end of a couple months here, The Red Devils will own most of Nar Shaadda's streets and business. From there? We're gonna own the Mara, and every place alongside it."

Hala slammed her own drink and kept pouring, being liberal with the booze since they got it at a discount from her old family friend back on Corellia. Having a family full of Gun Runners and the like had done her some good at least.

"So as a former Black Sun I assume you either want a part in this venture, or to make some agreement that we won't kark with your little slice of heaven?"

 

[Amarant]

[member="Hala Jast"][member="Zai Avery"] [member="Marcus Collier"] @b'kik

The man in the suit laughed. "I have to admit, you're either insane or incredibly ambitious. Either way, I can respect it. But let me be blunt," the man said with a nod. "I've seen a lot of outfits come and go. I've seen more people in this business die than you can count. Now, you obviously are some damn hungry maniacs, and I can support that--but not on the cheap," he said calmly. "And not without a realistic long-term benefit."



He shrugged calmly. "A slice of hell, is not something to be taken lightly. But, an alliance is on the table. You want the the Black Scorpions on your side," he said as he produced a business card, "I can help bring the proverbial thunder. In exchange for a decent cut of the take," he mused thoughtfully. "And, frankly, if I like working with you, I might even start offering a discount. If you can keep up," he accepted the drink and smirked. "You pour good booze and provide an interesting proposition. And frankly, I could use the exercise..." another dark chuckle. "So, next time, we'll make an audition of it. If you really think you can keep the Hutts on their tails, I'll be happy to join in," he stood up after throwing his drink back. "Or maybe I'll just get shot again. Be a riot either way."