Contact High

[Kalous Anson]

In the depths of Nar Shaddaa there was a meeting taking place. An assignment--a contract--that a great many were invited to complete. It was a competition of sorts--who could deliver on a task that was as relatively meaningless and petty as any task could ever be. Of course there was a play for power involved between two crime lords--Jare and Ceina Havo--a brother and sister who were feuding over one thing or another. This feud, however, would see at least two competitors be paid.

The challenge was simple: liberate a mysterious ship full of spices, and a handful of other illicit materials, and fly it to Mos Espa to be received by a rather power Hutt. Each sibling had posted an open invitation for this job and would choose whom to sponsor out of the field of mercenaries, bounty hunters, and low-level thugs. To the victor would go the knowledge that they had bested their sibling and be granted another chit to hold over their head until the next time the two came to odds. And to the thrill seekers that would choose to accept the invitation to compete: a mysterious prize that was guaranteed by the Hutt boss upon delivery to Mos Espa.

Being the most competitive, and broke, person that he knew; Kalous could not refuse the chance to enter this competition in order to place some coin in his pocket and gain some semblance of respect throughout the smuggling circuit. A fledgling bounty hunter like himself could hardly afford to survive without friends in low enough places and this was just the place to meet them. This would be his first chance to show why he believed he could be the best in the galaxy.

0:34 Local Time, Nar Shaddaa, Splitting Rancor Cantina

Kalous walked into the cantina--fully secure in his armor--with his helmet clinging to his face. He couldn't chance being recognized by the sight of his face and so he waited for the other competitors to arrive. During his wait he had taken a seat in a corner booth just in view of the main door. The race wouldn't start for at least another hour--maybe sooner if Jare and Ceina decided to throw the rules out of the airlock--and so Kalous figured there would be just enough time to size up his competition and perhaps find an ally among the rest of the scum and villainy that would saunter their way into the establishment.

 

[Davin Jusik]

[member="Kalous Anson"]

Ross had returned to his homeworld per a holomail from an old pal of his; describing some absurdly interesting competition involving a pair of underbosses. It'd been years since Ross had did anything remotely criminal (that wasn't sanctioned by a law making government *cough cough*) and there would only be one motivation the now wealthy man could possibly have for getting involved. Excitement. The plans for the Tower Project had been finalized. Ross and his team were now simply waiting for the go ahead from the Executive Council.

Ross couldn't stand to be idle, to the point of fault, as appeared to be the case in this instance. He'd bought a cheap starfighter, taken a short leave, and flew for Nar Shaddaa almost immediately.

The man entered the cantina listed in the holomail in his expensive two piece checkered suit, with a shiny silver slugthrower under his shoulder and a shit eating grin.

Oh how the years went. A wave of nostalgia hit him, as did envious stares from a few of the patrons. Ross wasn't worried, he'd kept up practice in the Union. Any thief would be unpleasantly surprised when their brain ended up on the floor.

 

[Kalous Anson]

When [member="Ross Jusik"] walked in there was a brief pause in the raucous of the late night patrons of the cantina as they stared at him--full of envy and desire. Kalous took note of the man who was obviously overdressed for a visit so far deep into Nar Shaddaa. If the smell of this place--oddly reminiscent of bantha poodoo mixed with kath hound vomit--hadn't scared him off when he entered then he must be here for the competition.

Kalous couldn't stand this cantina, or any establishment of the sort, but he knew it was now part of his persona--bounty hunter extraordinaire. He was expected to patrol the depths and harsh streets of each city he visited--looking for the roughest and toughest son of a Sith he could find just to make a few credits here and there. It was an awfully hard adjustment for someone who was used to living in as much opulence as a professional Grav-ball player could have. It was in moments like this where he was thankful for his experiences in prison.

He had been taught how to scrap, claw, and fight to survive no matter what the number, the size, nor even the smell of the men who all wanted to kill him for screwing over their favorite teams. Those lowlifes had no respect for someone who earned their way up the rungs of the social ladder to make millions of credits for playing--what some would deem--a silly kid's game. The lessons he had learned playing that game helped him as much as any of the experiences he had in the rest of his life.

Part of him wanted to wave the stranger over to his table, or even walk over to the man and inquire as to his talents, but Kalous couldn't bring himself to do it--at least not yet. Over the past few weeks since he had his little ordeal on Ord Mantell he had learned a few tricks of the trade to prevent himself from being burned that badly again. This time he wouldn't let even part of his prize end up in the hands of another--unless a suitable accord could be stricken. There is no honor between bounty hunters but he had heard there was such a thing between thieves...

 

[Davin Jusik]

A quick survey of the room showed mostly the stereotype of beings you'd expect to find in a place like that. Scum. So Ross fixated on the scum that looked the most interesting. There was a being sitting alone in a corner, in full armor. The man made his way across the cantina and took a seat across from [member="Kalous Anson"].

He took a small case from his suit jacket's pocket and produced a cigarette from it.

He lit it before speaking.

"Nice place."

As he spoke he gave the man an almost predatory glare. Despite his corporate digs Ross had never forgotten where he'd come from. The very air of the place seemed to awaken a part of him that was reserved for certain assignments. His aura had returned.

 

[Kalous Anson]

Step by step, [member="Ross Jusik"] approached, and with each step Kalous stayed unflinching in his booth seat. There was something he wasn't used to--the sound of the high priced shoes sliding across the floor--and yet he felt more at home as he was sunken into this frayed excuse for a cushioned seat with his armor constantly grinding against the fabric as his body shifted uncomfortably from side to side. Why was that? Why did he feel so comfortable in an existence that was completely foreign to him? Perhaps it was because he was reminded of prison and how similar this cantina was to his year-long persecution. He didn't care to seek the answer to that question.

When the elegantly dressed man slid into the seat across from him--placing the two of them in a very familiar situation (something about shooting first)--Kalous couldn't resist cocking his head to the side and slowly sliding his right hand to the butt of his pistol. His left hand roamed free, however, and ended up placed on the edge of the table--facing the inside of the cantina--to help him shift his weight around so that his left side was more heavily resting on the back of the booth. With his weight shifted his left leg meandered outside of the comfort that was hiding underneath the table--he seemed to be ready to move at a moment's notice--a precaution that he had engrained in himself through his time held captive by the law.

"Is it? Do you come here often," he asked through the speaker on the front of his helmet--his voice garbled enough so that it would be hard to recognize for even the most die-hard Grav-ball fan.

Kalous had learned to be a careful man--even more so lately--when it came to meeting new people in seedy locations. He wasn't even a fan of the local fare--drinking, spices, death sticks--he wasn't even a womanizer. It was unfortunate that someone that had lowered himself to such a stature a--barely--uncommon criminal didn't even have a vice that he could use to affirm his new self-image. This moment in time was still a transition for him but maybe, with time, Kalous could learn to like some of the more coarse aspects of his new trade.

 

[Davin Jusik]

"Not a once." Ross said with a grin as he puffed on his cigarette, taking note of [member="Kalous Anson"] 's movement.

"I'm not a threat to you right now, but if you plan on using that you better be quick. You've got a mad drop on me to be sure but I'd wager I get one off on you around you time you fire on me. Then we get to end up in the same alley and not claim whatever prize those bastards have waiting on us."

Ross was gambling on the being before him valuing personal safety and monetary gain above violence. He figured it was a relatively safe gamble though.

Well, he hoped.

 

[Kalous Anson]

"I'm sure that even if I did need to use this, somehow, it would be you shooting at me first in the legends that some would tell," Kalous said while his eyes scrambled up and down the man from under his helmet.

Kalous wasn't sure what to make of [member="Ross Jusik"] but what he did know was that it was easier to accomplish a task such as this with an ally by your side. There wasn't a sure thing in the entire galaxy and there was no guarantee that there would be any more agreeable allies, nor a prize beyond being killed at the finish, and so Kalous figured that he would have to roll the dice for once. Not a fan of taking chances, Kalous would have to continue to trust in himself that he could overcome anything by himself but he wasn't stupid enough to think that things wouldn't get a whole lot easier if he could gain anything of an advantage from a partner in this venture.

Without flinching, hesitating, or surrendering any ground in any physical way, or otherwise, Kalous simply stared at the man in his eyes. He tried to read him like a book but that ability was just not in Kalous' skillset. There was a trust that he had to decipher but not any kind of lasting trust. This trust that Kalous was attempting to contemplate was that of a partnership that would last as long as the job was concerned. There was always a possibility of a longer lasting relationship for future jobs but right now all Kalous was concerned about was winning that mystery prize.

"So, why should I trust you? I don't even know you."

 

[Davin Jusik]

"Well I didn't shoot you. I'm talking to you, and I don't like competition, I have a strong preference for partnerships." Ross said with a smile.

"I also find myself in need of reliable employees, but I like to see how I work with someone before I hire them."

He took another drag. Everything he'd said so far was true. It wasn't his exact intention arriving but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. [member="Kalous Anson"]

 

[Kalous Anson]

"Employees? Are you trying to hire me then," Kalous inquired as he shifted his weight back to his posterior. He was satisfied that [member="Ross Jusik"] couldn't kill him even if he wanted to.

There wasn't much else fo Kalous to do while he was waiting for the criminal duo of brother and sister to arrive to begin the event. It was almost as if they were letting the pot simmer to see if anyone else would come in to the fold--either that or they wished for some of the criminals to reveal a part of their skills before they made their selections for the competition. That would certainly be a smart way to go about things--then again they were still stupid enough to have this race in the first place.

 

[Davin Jusik]

Potentially." Ross said to [member="Kalous Anson"] "Depends on how this little adventure goes."

Ross had a little bit of a flash. His mind hadn't necessarily been working the way it was supposed to since the electrical bomb incident. Occasional flares. A bit of a shift.

He wasn't sure of nearly as much as he had been.