A Change of Hands

[Eugen Aker]

Brentaal IV, Industrial District

Just outside Warehouse District 17, a sleek black airspeeder landed in a lot filled with other nice looking speeders. This was a rough part of town, and such a congregation expensive vehicles would have have been a like a feast for the riff raff who called this place home, but they all knew better than to touch anything under Nova protection. Unless they wanted to lose their hands or more.

From the speeder stepped out Jihun, taking in his surroundings as he fished around his pockets for his cigarettes and a lighter. His expression was solemn, but under his trench coat, his fingers trembled from the energy of excitement.

First came a long slender cigarette slipped between slightly pursed lips. Next came the best part. His heart fluttered in sweet anticipation as he raised the acid etched chrome lighter to the far end of the cigarette.

For him, the thrill didn't come from experiencing that first drag of relieving but toxic chemicals like a typical smoker, but the very first light of the fire. The smoke and embers from the burn of paper and tobacco. A small outlet for a disturbing impulse.

When it happened, his heart pounded, and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Under his tailored coat and suit, his whole body tensed in euphoria.

A few seconds of tension, quickly followed by pleasant relief as he relaxed, an itch scratched for now.

He put away his lighter and pack, then leaned against the side of his speeder to enjoy his smoke. Looking around, he could see all sorts of well-dressed characters leaving the parking lot on foot, while security prowled the area, some with weapons on display. All looked pretty fit and sharp, indicating a military background. The Novas certainly didn't skimp on protection, though it didn't pay to cheap out in this area in their line of dirty work.

A few more minutes of smoking and observing the clientele, then he flicked away his spent cigarette and headed toward the entrance of District 17 for his rendezvous. Final destination: Lot 311.

 

[Dahlia]

Despite the rather industrial appearance of the business park, there was a bit of showy elegance hidden there. You just had to know where to look. Behind closed doors and below the warehouse of Lot 311 was a different world. There was rich mahogany, red velvet, dim lights, and piano music to add to the ambience. This space existed in contrast to the Warehouse District. It was a den of indulgence, it was a place to unwind, and it was the place that many members of the Nova crime family called home.

Dahlia Nova herself frequented the establishment.

The tall brunette was currently perched on the edge of a bar stool, regaling the tender with the mundane details of her day. However, there was a spark in her voice that kept the man leaning in to listen. Dark brown locks were worn in waves, blue eyes were lined meticulously with black liner, and her sleek black dress accented her slim figure. She was a temptress, to be sure. In her hand was a pink cosmopolitan, the rim of the glass dusted with sugar – just the way she liked it. She brought the glass to her painted lips for a sip, and then closed her eyes for a moment.

“Bliss in a glass,” She said, eyes opening slowly.

Turning on her stool, the mafia daughter surveyed her domain. She watched as drifts of cigarette smoke billowed out into the parlor, she listened as raucous laughter came from the other room. A slow smirk found her lips. It was good to be in charge – it was nice to be queen. The regulars were here tonight, important men that made Brentaal IV spin. They were politicians, they were businessmen, and they were rich and powerful. But here, they were denizens of Lot 311. That meant that they indulged freely, partaking in drink, the company of pretty girls, and the occasional hit of spice. While some were public faces, here their identities remained shadowed. Dahlia was adored, but she remained conveniently off limits. After all, she was still mourning the death of her husband. The young widow dressed in black, she scorned the advances of others, and she played the part quite well.

[member="Cardinam"]

 

[Eugen Aker]

He arrived at an unassuming business park, construction equipment all over the premises of the incomplete structures. To the casual observer, a half-finished warehouse was all to see, but if one looked close, they could witness a trickle of well-dressed patrons coming to and fro in ones and twos.

Alone at the docking area, he made his way to a row of doors marked off for employees. Almost identical in appearance, but a well-worn handle and a buzzer marked one door from the rest.

He gave the buzzer a ring, then waited for the guards to do their thing, using biometric scans to verify his identity. He cleared the check, and the door clicked open for him to enter.

From there it was short elevator ride to the underground level, then the doors slid open to reveal the true face of Lot 311, a lively speakeasy catering to all the shady elements of Brentaal and beyond. Glancing around among the small crowds, he could see he had beat his mark here. Now he would have to play the waiting game.

Moving through the haze of cigarra smoke, he was set on a path straight to the bar for a drink, settling on a stool next to a leggy brunette in black.

"Corellian Whiskey," he ordered after sitting down, stealing a glance at the striking specimen to his right. She had a look about her that screamed off limits, but that didn't discourage him in the slightest. "And another shot for the fine lady."

She certainly was fine, in more ways than one.

[member="Dahlia"]

 

[Dahlia]

Dahlia didn’t even turn when the unfamiliar man had a seat at the bar. Only when he ordered her a drink did she spare him the tiniest glance out of the corner of her eyes. Swiveling just so, she offered the man a brilliant smile. She might as well play along, at least for now.

“Thanks,” She spoke in an elusive tone, and lifted the small shot glass to her lips. “A... fine choice.”

The woman extended a finely manicured hand towards the new guest.

“The name’s Dahlia,” She said with a flutter of lashes, “I usually recognize everyone here, but that doesn’t seem to be the case this time.” Another smile was offered. “Who might you be?”

It was a casual enough question. But really, she was trying to gauge whether or not he belonged here. Lot 311 had a fairly regular crew, there weren’t many unnamed guests that managed to get in. Of course, there were always exceptions – usually these cases were escorted from the premises quite quickly. And were they never did come back again…

The pianist tipped his hat to Dahlia as he arrived for work, and she gave the man a sly grin. Glancing back to her new companion, she caught the musician’s sleeve.

“Say, Randy…” She said sweetly. “Why don’t you play us something nice?”

[member="Cardinam"]