Down to Business

[Rekali the Hutt]

Point Nadir. A shadowport carved into an asteroid that was just mobile enough to never be in the interest of a single government it was a legend among the criminal underworld, a possible have and escape from the law if all other options failed. Rekali the Hutt was not interested in such escapes, but rather the promise of a new market, a new way place to sell his own spices, and gather up some weapons if he was lucky. To this end he'd contacted a group of mercenaries that had helped the Mandalorians in their recent battle at Kashyyyk, the Equalizers. Word on street was they owned this rock, and setting up a deal was more than a courtesy, it was good business.

The Slips was what passed as "High End" docking on Point Nadir, and where he'd meet the Equalizers. Where as a typical business might have offered an escort or waived docking fees the Equalizers did neither, as if the Hutt couldn't pay his way onto the docks or provide his own security his organization wouldn't be stable enough to consider a deal with. Many criminal outfits came and went, and there was no such thing as a certain deal after all. The Slips were pretty heavily guarded, a series of capital grade weaponry pointing out to deep space, both to blackmail and to ward off any ships that were halfway 'legitimate'. As he landed he spotted the odd Houk guard and a series of Gank Killers watching the ports. A raid here wouldn't be impossible for a good strike team, but frak it wouldn't be gorram costly. It seemed the Equalizers had at least the Slips under strict control. Rekali found this reassuring, for the same reason he had to pay docking fees. The Equalizers were serious about their business, and he appreciated that.

Sliding out of his ship he sported his lightaxe and crossbow at his back, but little in the way of armor. His escorts were few but deadly, as too many heads attracted too much attention. One or both of [member="Aver Brand"] or [member="Loray Tares"] would be here soon to discuss business. He was told to expect a couple heavily armored humanoids, like something that would pop out of Saeva corporation. He hoped they were as he thought, a gritty collection of killers. Point Nadir was going to a prize in an of itself, but a strong band of mercenaries with no moral limitations could be exceedingly useful later.

 

[Aver Brand]

Punctual down to the minute of the hour, a mismatched pair of mercenaries approached the Hutt and his bodyguards. One a hulking Houk, the other a tall Trandoshan, they would’ve been comical if not for the decidedly serious weaponry adorning their bodies like expensive jewelry. These guys didn’t kark around.

“Rekali the Hutt,” said the Trandoshan, chewing up the syllables of Basic with his needle teeth. “For privacy and comfort, the Equalizers ask you to join them in the Cruelest Cut.” Despite the language used, his tone conveyed a certain… lack of choice in the matter. The Mandalorian businessman was the courting party here, and the one expected to adapt to the demands of Nadir’s custodians.

Not that Aver would impose many of those on the visitor. Much as it was a marketing stunt and a nice little fable, the station was a paradise of freedom. Except it was the sort of freedom that many had trouble washing down even with the alcohol served in the local cantinas. Liberty was all fine and dandy so long as it remained this distant, abstract idea to fight for. People were enamored with their rights, but couldn’t stomach duty quite as well. It looked pretty on paper; beautiful in theory.

Reality spun a harsher tale.

Point Nadir offered freedom like no others could. For the right cut of folk, it was a land of boundless opportunity. For the rest, it was a shallow grave.

Where [member="Rekali the Hutt"] and his ambition fell, it remained to be seen.

 

[Rekali the Hutt]

A heavily armed Houk and Trandoshan were the first to come and greet the Hutt. His own guards were proactive, half-raising their weapons as they took defensive positions.

<Let them come.> The Hutt spoke in his native tongue. He knew the look of someone intending to kill, and neither of these two had it. They might not have been upset if the Hutt proved difficult but they weren't going to cause trouble for trouble's sake.

“Rekali the Hutt. For privacy and comfort, the Equalizers ask you to join them in the Cruelest Cut.” The Trandoshan said as he twiddled a bone through his canines.

<Lead the way.> Rekali replied, and the rodian of his guard gave a grunt of displeasure, but kept his mouth shut. The other two kept their mouths shut as well. They might not have been happy about what was happening but the Hutt didn’t wager the Equalizers would escort them to their deaths. The “Cruelest Cut” was probably just a bar, hopefully with a less edgy audience than name.

The trip over was pretty uneventful, at least for the Hutt and his group. He spotted many a mugging, spice deal, and arms sale be conducted but no one bothered Rekali’s group. More than likely it was the Trandoshan and Houk leading their group that warded off excitement. If they had a reputation for working for or with the Equalizers and they really did control this wild rock then there was reason to fear messing with them. The Hutt’s own crew continued to remain silent, but he caught an impressed glance here and there. The environment was not all that different from Trevel’ka outside the Gavaroth District, but the quality of available tech and spice was certainly far greater.

The Cruelest Cut itself was wild establishment, far larger than most cantina’s. The entertainment consisted of a five meter diameter arena, reinforced with an electrified wall and perhaps some shielding. Judging by the blaster scoring at the closest tables it seemed they only partially cared about protecting their residents. At present there were a quarren and a gran shockboxing. Clothing was minimal, and the gloves were set to such a high setting that they left smocking burns on the alien’s bodies.

“The Equalizers will see you shortly.” The Trandoshan said as he brought them to what seemed a VIP booth. The Houk removed one of the benches so the Hutt could slither his way across from the other. It was farther from the arena than some of the tables, but it’s elevated positioning gave an excellent view of the match. The gran went for a high punch with his right, where the Quarren caught it midway and shoved it to the side with his left. At that moment his right hand surged forward, cupping the Gran’s middle eyestalk and delivering a powerful electrical shock. The eye twitched for a moment, until the Quarren let it go and the entire eyestalk went limp. A left-handed punch was thrown to the Gran’s gut and he fell to the floor, the majority of the bar cheering as a disgruntled few threw away their betting cards. The Quarren went over him and put a shockbox glove over his throat, and began the assault on his face with the other. It was wild, ugly, bloody, and unquestionably lethal.

Just like this wonderful hellhole of a rock.

The Quarren raised his fists in triumph for a moment before he was shot with a stun cannon and officials dragged him somewhere, and drag the lifeless corpse of the Gran somewhere else. A voice could be heard over the speakers in basic talking about the next match. A gundark vs four brothers, each armed with a simple vibroblade. It sounded a massacre, but one the bargoers got fairly excited about. Rekali the Hutt would continue to wait for [member="Aver Brand"] and perhaps [member="Loray Tares"] as they shoved out the “brothers”, a collection of humans. One looked barely thirteen.

What an honest place, this Point Nadir.

 

[Loray Tares]

The cruelest of cuts, the sort that ran deep. He could feel every punch, like he stood lone man on the opposite side of the opponent. There was a thrill there, creeping beneath the surface, ever inherent in watching one individual beaten to death by another. The pleasures and the arousal of spectating, to stand on the side line and look in - he couldn't deny the desire to move along the mat, to stalk a man in passing and pace around him, walking the imprint where his body would soon land.

Oils and blood from bare feet, leaving dirty footprints against the white. A faded chalk outline.

But he wasn't down in the ring. He wasn't even on the floor. He was in a VIP box, a place for which he longed removal. The Gran had put up a good fight, far better than this Equalizer to the request of presence. The criminal organization on Point Nadir was moving full steam ahead and where he desired to be lieutenant on the front line of wars and battles, he found himself spokesperson when moments of lucidity showed themselves. Much to Aver's surprise, the invasion of Ruusan had left him with more balance than with what he started. Ballast removed by fire and partially restored through the field of blades.

He wouldn't be hopping on a gymnast's beams any time soon, but he could walk a straight line when the time called for it.

The VIP box may have been aptly named in most occasions, but it didn't feel it now. Where businessmen often sat, paying far more than the worth of the seating, now rested a Hutt. And a man in armor stood at the front corner, inches from the barrier put up to contain the box. The establishment proprietors told the customers that it was for their safety, to prevent the spread of disease with the spatter of blood from a violent fight. But in reality, it was an electrocution chamber. An interesting way to remove the competition of the outfit, running as shadow government over Point Nadir at the command of two fists of iron and one of phrik. For all roads led back to her.

A gundark and four brothers, though boys would have been more appropriate for the truth of things. But the truth wasn't always valuable, not when honesty would do. This was a VIP box. But in truth, it was a death chamber. Honesty had shades of development, places to hide, and therein lied the beauty. This man was simply an armored mercenary, that was honest. But in truth, he once stood for far more.

"Sir, do you have a wager for the fight?"

The red visor of the helmet turned in response, the creak of the armor following slowly behind, bemoaning the contortion. Silence erupted from the helmet so abruptly, one might have assumed vulgarity based on the ticket takers response. Loray was in no mood for interruption and while he may requested that the man check with him after every fight, the fact of the matter is that cared very little for consistency. It wasn't fair but neither was Point Nadir.

"I'm...I'm so sorry to...to interrupt."

The helmet turned back to the stage, as quiet as a mother's prayer, as the ticket taker shuffled back out of the VIP room. He swore to himself, under his breath, that he would call next time.

[member="Rekali the Hutt"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

The match went on. Four boys, and the oldest couldn’t count more than eighteen. A honest place, indeed.

Where others jeered and cheered, Aver merely entertained a smile. This was the contained vigor that pulsed in every vein of the massive station-organism. It was its lifeblood, such unadulterated violence. Kept it going, kept it sound, kept it… sane. A series of transactions both great and small, funds and souls and lives bequeathed from loser to winner. Simplicity was the key to a good system. An efficient system, even.

She stood and left the screaming crowd to their disport. Though a gambler once – and always – Aver had long learned to only hazard when victory was assured. Cheating, murder, and lies were all viable means of increasing her chances. Perhaps there were no certainties in life, but she could damn well make sure to play with the odds in her favor.

As she would tonight. Home territory, a deathmatch cantina full of killers armed to the teeth, and the best partner in crime she could ask for. She had seen [member="Loray Tares"] ascend the steps to the VIP lounge minutes prior, no doubt to make sure their guest was nice and cozy. Nothing like the roiling presence of caged insanity to put a mind to rest.

Aver, for her part, would bring drinks and tranquility. Granted, it was the sort of tranquility one might feel a breath away from death, frost and silence rushing in like vacuum in space. But it was tranquility, and that was better than nothing, right? Right?

The door closed behind her with finality. A lock engaged, its soft hiss drowned by the click of phrik boots against durasteel floor. The mercenary deposited a bottle and three glasses on the table in the middle and took her seat. Every motion was precise to the point of being mechanical, until, finally, Aver turned to look at the visitor.

Someone else might’ve said ‘welcome’, but pleasantries were wasted time. Time was money, and money was what kept their business going.

“You have a proposition for us.”


[member="Rekali the Hutt"]

 

[Rekali the Hutt]

Rekali the Hutt didn't particularly care about the games down below, or who won or lost, but he expected one of the brothers to be at least twenty or so. He was gravely mistaken. A man perhaps eighteen, a child of thirteen who probably hadn't shaven for the first time, and a set of twins aged somewhere between. While fear was in their eyes they didn't cry, and they didn't freeze. They were terrified, but perhaps they were locals. Wherever they came from they knew the difference between life and death could be but a moments hesitation.

Across from him was a heavily armored and very silent man. Perhaps if he was a stronger Force User he'd recognize the power the armored man held, as well as the armored woman coming with drinks, but he wasn't the type to be able to identify the power of an individual on a whiff. The Ticket Taker wasn't worth the words of the Equalizer, and neither did Rekali see fit to give him the time of day. Rekali the Hutt was what one might call a social gambler, putting a little here and there when with other businessmen who gambled. Made them feel more comfortable if someone else was participating. Not that the Hutt would ever wager anything worth keeping. He didn't enjoy making things dangerous for the sake of being interesting.

They were soon joined by a second equalizer, who sat only after three glasses and a bottle were presented on the table in what could be described as a droid-like fashion. Precise, without a wasted time or motion. After seating she was succinct, to the point.


“You have a proposition for us.” And neither would he beat around the bush.

<I need access to the Nadir market. Spices, arms, services I can't get anywhere else without legal difficulty.> There were other difficulties Nadir presented of course, but Rekali would prefer deal with those than others. <I'll assume a private dock would cost a monthly contribution. I have credits, Rekali Silver if you prefer hard currency, access to a dock on Trevel'ka, a world not unlike this rock but possessing little in the way of technology, and I have access to a vein of Andris Spice.> The Hutt spoke his normal tongue as a scream could be heard over the cheers of the crowd. Sounded like the Gundark had one down. Rekali whistled, and his rodian bodyguard below the VIP box tossed him up a bag.

<Andris enhances a being's reflexes and senses, to a point where the average being can wield a lightsaber as if they could touch the Force. Proficiency is another matter of course, but I think the heightened awareness speaks for itself.> The Hutt finished, giving them a moment before pressing any further. Such a spice might not have meant much to cybernetic forcewielders, but Rekali didn't know the finer details of his associates, and even if he did there was money to be made in selling it, and opportunity if the Equalizers employed any non-force users.

[member="Aver Brand"] [member="Loray Tares"]

“You have a proposition for us.”

 

[Loray Tares]

The fight was over before it began, bets placed on simply how long they lasted. There was no risk in that bet, thus very little interest in putting money on it. He preferred the implications of certainty without the muddied waters in between. Life, death, these were the only things that have might have interested him. As it stood, it was simply a question of time.

The only true currency anyone had. Time. Everything else was pure derivation of that metric. Effort, effect, even money could be purified into the time it took to accumulate such wealth.

After it was all said and done, the bodies were dragged from the fight. A small alien, of no species of note, struggled on to the platform with a heavy limp. One leg longer than the other, face gnarled from what could only be assumed to be a degenerative disease. Like getting hit in the face with hot water and oil, sticky substance left to stick and smolder. It was something quite unique to look upon, but nothing particularly special on Point Nadir. The station was filled with criminals, convicts, and all other dregs that society cast out for their differences in opinion. But where there were opinions, there were also facts. And the fact here was that existence dictated location. These people needed a place to go and in that demand, the supply was formed in metal beams injected through an asteroid. In Point Nadir. So the alien moved, mop and bucket over blood smears, as the crowd dispersed for the intermission.

Loray had no interest in drinking as it would require removal of his helmet. Without knowledge of this Hutt, he wasn't interested in the notoriety and recognition that would come with the face of a former Warlord. While the Hutt may have not known his presence or felt his power, he may have noted the hinted tones of the Soul Saber hidden within the depths of his right arm. A sense of unease crept out from his being as he turned to face the visitor.

"Need. A simple thing." He stepped forward, moving away from the barrier, as he pulled out a chair. "For instance. We have no need for currency." He would have asked this figure how he had come to know of the Equalizers, but that was simply a waste of time. The fact was that they were known. Sitting down, he pointed at the bag of what he assumed was the drug being described. "Now, we might have need of that."

Need was a strong word. They didn't really need much and what they had now would suffice. But through all the work they had done, the criminal network in Nadir was budding to the point of a blossom. One Roger Kranos might be interested in this drug and his interest would bolster his worth, his effort to improve the network. With a lean back, Loray looked towards his counterpart.

The CFFC could make use of that drug, assuming quality and quantity.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rekali the Hutt"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

Yep. Transactions alright. The foundations of civilization were built on the Force-damned things. Wasn’t nothing that ever happened between two sentient beings that didn’t constitute an exchange of sorts. Not that it was always as plain as this – credits for goods, goods for goods, goods for favors. It was subtle and stealthy and well, that was the whole catch. When it was subdued and intricate, it was easy to ignore, which most people did.

Ignorance was bliss, indeed.

Aver glanced from the Hutt to the bag of spice beside the bottle of Corellian brandy (not that the slug could see what she was looking at: Perk #31 of Full Plate). The whole damn drug trade hinged on that one adage, so suppose she should count herself lucky that so few ever pushed past the veil. Suppose she should be grateful that she did.

But all she did was pick up the bag, producing a combat knife out of nowhere entirely too quickly. The tip of the blade pierced the plastic wrapper, and then she was holding a pinch of powder up to her helmet. The HUD helpfully listed the effects of the substance after she gave it a quick scan, corroborating Rekali’s words.

She hummed. Kranos can do a test run with a batch, see how it sells. If it’s good…

“As my partner said,” she spoke again, setting down the bag, “there’s not much we need. But…” Aver trailed off, toying with her knife now that she’d wiped off the dust.

“Drugs are good business, and Trevel’ka sounds like our kinda place.” Leaning forward, the merc offered a full tumbler of a rich amber liquid to the Hutt. “If you want to get on Nadir— if you want to stay on Nadir, there’s some guidelines you'd better follow.”

They weren’t hardasses, really. Just a couple of mercs trying to turn a lawless shadowport into an… efficient shadowport. (Efficiently profitable.) Aver smiled a smile sharper than the blade in her hands and it died unseen behind her mask, like so many others before.

“People shet on your business, you clean up your way. A cut of your profits goes to the Syndicate, and you pay for whatever other… luxuries you want. Private docks, premium premises, top-notch security, that kinda thing.

“Try to muscle in on someone’s territory, and it won’t be pretty. Don’t kark with the Greats… mm, am I forgetting anything?” She turned halfway to Loray, thoughtfully tapping her helmet with the knife.

“Oh, right. Try and frak us over, and you’re dead.”

[member="Rekali the Hutt"] | [member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Rekali the Hutt]

Rekali the Hutt felt a tingle from the cyborg's soulsaber. Though the Hutt's senses weren't the best, he had dealt with witch talismans before, this felt altogether darker,yet inviting. The Hutt most definitely concluded it was the power that drew him, the desire to grow stronger. Power existed in many forms, wealth, influence, technology, yet the Force? It was something different. While the former could be considered psychologically addictive the latter? It seemed physically addictive. He would have to be careful, it seemed the Force would be something dangerous to the Hutt. This sort of desire could cloud his judgement.

"Need. A simple thing. For instance. We have no need for currency. Now, we might have need of that. " The male sounding merc said, though the Hutt suspected there was a bit of exaggeration there. They wore full plate, they didn't waste time with pleasantries, and they had an indisputable hold over this asteroid. To describe them as anything less than 'professional' didn't do them justice. When you operated on a level like that there was very little, if anything one needed, merely business that would make your plans go a little faster.


“As my partner said, here’s not much we need. " The female voiced Equalizer voiced, and Rekali waited for the downsell. "But… Drugs are good business, and Trevel’ka sounds like our kinda place." She finished and confirmed the deal was good, or going good places rather. He expected they'd have another set of eyes confirm the quality of the spice before finalizing long term agreements. She poured a drink which the Hutt took. This was their territory, they didn't need to resort to tricks like poisoned whiskey if they wanted him gone. It went down smooth, as most human drinks did. His body was of a hardier constitution than fragile humans.

She continued on about the rules of Nadir, standard stuff. Don't expect help, don't cause trouble, pay your taxes, and don't feth with the landlord. He wouldn't waste their time asking about the regionalities or local gangs. He could gather his own info, make his own way.

<The terms are agreeable. Trevel'ka functions quite similarly, though I have no reservations on any of the locals.> The Hutt replied but didn't bother to go in more detail. The slumworld would be his sooner or later, so he didn't mind if the Equalizers took a pocket here or there and set up roots. All it really did was expedite things, one less gang to worry about.

<Do we need to wait for your techs to confirm the quality or can we proceed with arrangements? I'll need a dock.> He assumed they were already discussing territory in which to operate, and a private dock would make operations so much simpler. He could provide his own defenses, but establishing secure supply lines was key.

[member="Aver Brand"] [member="Loray Tares"]


“As my partner said,”

 

[Loray Tares]

"A covenant written in the sand..." He spoke quietly, red visor ever fixed on the Hutt. Loray couldn't recall ever working with one of his kind, though he was more than sure he killed his fair share. Notches on the belt, it was the currency that once meant so much. And now, it was simply ash in the mouth. The gesture of death was something more gleefully chased than fulfilled.

"Should your product fail to meet expectations, favor and agreement will fade in the shifting winds of Nadir." Kranos had never met a drug he didn't like. Liquid, powder, and pills. There was something for any one, whether it was the high of the life time or the depressing spiral into the abyss that existed within everyone. Loray had spent moments prior to this life entranced with such abuse, knowing its touch and the effects it might have. But the dull pang of the ache that remained was all for which he yearned. The anticipation, the feeling, the sensation of life through what the body naturally combats and reviles. Loving that which is detested was his way, if love was ever the proper word. The fact remained: He was no longer one for it. "Until then, you will be granted temporary access to a personal docking bay."

He tapped a sharpened fingernail on the rim of the tumbler. He could feel a hunger grow within the arm, a flare of boredom reflected in some more reptilian sense. Gritting his teeth, he squelched what growl might have escaped the lips of the palm, as he dug two nails into the skin.

"What more do you need?"

Defenses, additional connections, the works. Everything came with a price.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rekali the Hutt"]​

 

[Rekali the Hutt]

[member="Aver Brand"] [member="Loray Tares"]

Rekali was not new the game. The plate mail-clad mercenary's question wasn't one of generosity, but upsizing. It was the crime lord equivalent to "do you want fries with that?" and truth be told, Rekali didn't. It wasn't that he doubted the quality of the services or merchandise provided, but Rekali was the type to build up his own operations. Too much reliance on another's strength made one weak, and when a worthy foe came the question was no longer whether you were strong enough, but whether it was still profitable to fight.

<Your generosity is appreciated, but the docking is all I require. I'll definitely keep your organization in mind for the future.> The hutt spoke, and paused for a moment. It seemed their business was reaching it's conclusion.

<Is there anything else you wish to discuss?>