Private An Average Day Shipping

[Vyse de Valorous]

All was peaceful on the AA-9 Freighter-Liner as it took off from Geonosis to Tatooine, it stuffed to the brim with people and cargo. It was the closet route, and that meant it was the most reliably and safe. And safety translated into credits.

It made even greater sense when you considered the two worlds. Geonosis had been uplifted as once the CIS capital, it had resources to spare. Meanwhile Tatooine was what amounted to a ball of sand and as such always in need of resources. Meant trips were regular, reliable, and most importantly so average people didn't look too close. This made it very easy for crime syndicates to smuggle back and forth between the worlds. All they needed to was not be too careless and bribe the right people to look the other way and it was practically a credits generator. On back water worlds where life was hard and many were destitute with no where else to go. These were the perfect places to sell narcotics. And the credits in turn could be used to build up operations on Geonosis. An easy safe game, the best kind when your only concern is winning. All everyone had to do was keep their mouths shut and no one would know. But in a dynamic chain of events the worst possible person would know every detail of this route.

Oleander Webb Had come to know of the group known as the Huga Cartel. Now, odds were low that they were the people he was after but they might have info on who are the people he is after, and that was good enough for a man like him. It was easy and cheap to get on the Freighter if he wanted even bother to get on legitimately. How he came to know that there was some members of it on this shuttle only he could say and it was dangerous to ask. He knew somewhere on this freighter they sulked, hidden in with all the common people just trying to do their jobs or seeking to make a life for themselves in a harsh new world, or even forced into such a choice. And regardless how he chose to go about finding them, if he made too much a fuss perhaps security on the massive ship would get alerted. But this man was "The Waking Nightmare", only he can say the lengths he went to.

Once he did get information where one of the members of the gang hung around, all he needed to do was force him to lead him to the rest. An easy task for someone like him. Finding him in the ships bar, as when a ship can hold thirty thousand it was literally free money to operate one. He found him in a chair slumped over, perhaps he passed out? The smell of burnt flesh suggested otherwise. A closer look revealed that the man was very much dead, and the smell of flesh and smoke suggested quickly. But the most odd thing about all of this, was it a lightsaber that did it.

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Vyse de Valorous

From one desert world to another, Oleander was getting quite tired of sand in his boots. The heat bearing down on his back was far from preferable, too, his dark leathers serving as a personal oven. Yet personal comfort took a backseat to a job. The Waking Nightmare, an incarnation of Death in mortal form, was above all a professional in his field. His allegiances might shift a tad, so might his methods, but the results were always that - results.

Yet professionalism aside, there was a hint of personal inquiry in this quest. More than a hint, what had initially brought this group to Death's attention was the pursuit of something lost. The inkling of a chance, already so much more than he'd had previously, that this group was responsible for sealing him away all those years ago, was enough for him to slightly inflate the importance of dealing with such a group.

Death strode into the bar with a purpose. He was to meet one of the gang members, get more information, maybe probably lure them away to properly digest what the member had to share. Death's brow furrowed in displeasure when he found the other slumped over deceased. Such a shame, the soup lost so much of its flavor when the host departed.

All was not lost, perhaps. While this particular source of info had fallen through - err over - the smoke that stung Oleander's nostrils also pointed out a new trail to follow. The death had been recent and the killer...Oleander stooped over near the corpse, inhaling deeply in both the literal and metaphorical sense, the wisps of a vague trail beckoning him where he assumed the killer had departed. It was faint, certainly, but still, it provided a whisper that not all hope was lost.

With one last quick inspection of the body slumped over, removing any contraband or anything else he suspected might come in handy later, Oleander turned his back on the body, exiting towards this new trail just as silently as he had entered.

 

[Vyse de Valorous]

Oleander Webb was able to slowly follow the trail to a near by seat facing a section of wall like it was put away. Away from the busy and bustling
of the bar. However as he did indeed smell it lead here, quickly he noticed it was in fact a door, a form of covering in front that the chair was used to make look like perfectly normal. Someone went to efforts to cover up and make it look like it was nonexistent.

Of course a door would not stop Death. Easily the chair was moved along and the door was opened. The bartender speaking up "Hey your not allowed down there!" Did he know who he was speaking to? After Gerwald's shadow cowed him in his own manner he was easily able to enter.

Finding a set of stairs cast in shadow, and a second body at the bottom of them. Another smoking hole clear as light from the now open entrance shinned down in the darkness. Hearing a faint voice further in whatever lair this was. "Oh! Ha I've not seen little-" He heard a man's death gasp as with a faint red light he could tell that was the end of them, and another potential person he could painfully question.

He'd have to act fast or there be no one left soon enough.