[Dev] Poor Room Service

[Saera Willamina Savan]

Today, a slightly wiser, slightly older Saera found herself on Nar Shaddaa. It was a real dredge of a locale, a small rock covered in sprawling cityscape. The air was bad. The people were bad. The food was particularly bad. Why was she here, she wondered. As the adage went, if you wanted something done right, you should do it yourself. Saera needed to hire a slicer, and the criminal underworld seemed to have to shortage of those.

Saera booked a room in the nicest motel she could find, in the more elevated region of the city. It wasn't great, not even the best by local standards, but it was passible. For now, this would be her base of operations. A few luggage cases of equipment and amenities followed suit, as well as a few hands to help her set up. Since a hireling couldn't be brought to Crystalsong, Saera had to bring the job to them. One of the things she had brought was a private server, which she was using to make a subtle communication across the network. Inside was the first key to her prize, and whoever could reach it first would be paid quite handsomely for their continued assistance.

[member="Simone"]​

 

[Simone]

Once upon a time, Simone would have shunned the idea of setting up shop on Nar Shadda, yet after years of roaming around it turned it to be an ideal location. High crime rates and plenty of unsavoury characters made it easier for the slicer to disappear into the background. She saw and heard a great deal more from the shadows. Her base was a single room apartment, the majority of which was taken up by a home built server and array of display screens. A cot sat in the corner, littered with clothes as much as the floor was littered with food containers. Safe to say Simone was not a house proud woman.

She took a long drag on her cigarette, her head tipped back to rest on the back of her chair. Watching th screens for something out of the ordinary. A blip ran across a screen, asi ones forehead creased and she sat forward, slipping her feet off the desk and sliding the chair closer, she pulled the information onto the screen for her. Sure enough, the signal skipped across the lines of data. "Hello." Simone smiled, balancing her cigarette with practised skill in the overflowing ashtray, she began the process of peeling back the layers to see the signal in its true colours.

[member="Saera Willamina Savan"]