Private Gun-Runner

[Magdalena Bloodscrawl]

Heading to meeting area in: Percival-Class Corvette

Cargo for Joran Del-Finn to deliver:

Ten large crates each of the following:

Obsolete Blaster SMG
Obsolete Battle Rifle
Obsolete LMG System
Obsolete Minigun
Obsolete Grenade Launcher
Obsolete Military Hazard Suit
Obsolete Power Armor

The flat, flying wing type vessel with a livery of red feathered wings on the top and bottom of its hull blinked out of Hyperspace, it's aggressive yet graceful shape racing through the blackness to the meeting point that had been arranged. That smuggler she had contacted had been eager for work and she had been happy to oblige. But rather than trust him with something truly sensitive she decided it would be more prudent to give him a simple but well paying job to work up his appetite for more work down the road. Bacta-Works was supporting fringe alliance colonies covertly against Sith incursion. People who needed to get their hands on weapons and equipment that was not as secured as more modern examples. People who would certainly be up MORE of a creek without them.

Let it not be said her Son was irresponsible in his supply efforts. He vetted the groups he gave weapons to for months before he dared to give them so much as a pistol. So it has been with this one. They were just colonists. People interested in bypassing regulations to get what they needed before their enemies arrived. Not that she would be telling Joran that. All he would know is the drop off point and from there, all he had to do was make the drop.

Magda had even decided what part of his payment would be--the very ship she was arriving on if everything went to plan. The latest in technology and comfort. And weapons.

A rocky, but bare plateau was where the Corvette settled, and Magda walked off the vessel clad in an ultra skintight, ultra reflective crimson armor weave catsuit. Despite her age, she had a noticably athletic figure and it was obvious she was very in shape as she waited for him to land. The rest of his price would be negotiated once he arrived. He would be moving a lot of merchandise today. Might as well dress to impress. These were not the stodgy, insufferable social gatherings of the ultra rich. This was to be a meeting between two people who knew what they want and went for it.

The Sorcereress of Ossus, hiding inside Magda's flesh and mind, was eager to get a load of Joran's muscles again. It was the little bonuses in life that made the profession worth it.

Plus, it wasn't like Magda herself exactly minded either, despite only existing because the Sorceress wanted her to. Needed her to. Magda understood how to 'human' better, if you will, than her actual persona, despite both normally being very friendly. But Magda, as opposed to Magdalena, simply understood things that the Sorceress didn't quite comprehend as herself.

And what Magda understood was that big, strong confident men loved eye candy. And confidence in one's own self.

All of this was stuff Magda had...

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

Captain Joran Del-Finn guided his ship through the atmosphere of some moon of some world with no name. His ship, a restored and maintained VCX-100, was a blast from the past, something from antiquity, a working relic, and gods be damned was she beautiful still.

If the parts of a ship were upgraded and exchanged dozens or hundreds of times, was it still the same ship or something new?

Joran hated the question, mostly because he didn't know the answer but also because he didn't like the implication. So while his ship's insides were all the latest market technology, and her hull was freshly refurbished and painted to remove, hide, or repair any blaster scoring she may've had; she needed to look her best for this meeting after all, the one thing he hadn't ever changed was the captain's seat and his steering column. Both were cracked and stained from years of use and were the same seat and column from when Joran took over as captain three decades prior, they were the same seat and column from before Joran ever stepped foot on this ship, before he was ever born, and if he believed Rendar, they were the same as when they were first installed a handful of years before the start of The Clone Wars.

Joran watched The Perseverance's sensors flashed with life as he brought her in for a landing on a barren outcropping of red clay rocks.

That's a lot of firepower.

He thought as warning after warning fired off, tripped by the presence of the interestingly shaped red ship his potential client had arrived on.

Finally landing, Joran waited to disembark from the ramp stepping out into the brightness of the day, eyes protected by unnecessarily expensive protective glasses that were in all honesty more flash than function. A gust of wind kicked up a cloud of red dust and Joran silently cursed his choice of attire.

Through the haze of his tinted eyewear and the slowly displaying cloud of dust Joran could see his client, well potential client, the woman he met on New Cov, a representative of Bacta-works who offered him ten thousand credits just for showing up here.

Her name was…

"Magda!" Joran called out as he approached. She was dressed, if it were even possible, more gaudy than he was. A bright red skin tight catsuit typa deal, a wholly unexpected wardrobe for a business meeting and he could not take his eyes off of her. His eyes drank in every curve and detail of her form and went back for seconds. Perhaps his gaze was hidden behind his glasses, he didn't much care either way, you did not wear an outfit like that and hope people didn't notice.

"I have been on a thousand worlds and heard a million languages but I can confidently say there has not yet been invented the words that could describe you," he said with a practiced effortless sincerity, leaning over to lightly press his cheek to hers accompanied with the softest of kisses.

"Lovely place to do business. Private, majestic, fresh air really helps keep the mind sharp, eh?"

In Joran's experience this was not the strangest place he'd been called to conduct business but it was far from the most traditional, though an office building or back corner of a cantina did become old hat after a while.

"Things have been well, I hope?" Courtesy was not above him. "Let's talk business then, yeah?"

He did not come all the way out here just to turn her down.

"I didn't come all the way out to nowhere to turn you down, so let's find some commonality, shall we? You tell me how far I'll be going, what I'll be moving, number and weight of merchandise, Love, the specifics are yours to keep if you want, and you tell me what you think is fair compensation for that, yeah? I will then tell you just how close to being right you are."

Magdalena Bloodscrawl

 

[Magdalena Bloodscrawl]

"Joran!" Magda said enthusiastically to Joran Del-Finn , returning the peck on the cheek. She smiled as he complimented her choice of planet, not to mention her figure.

"In my profession, it pays to look stunning..." she replied slyly. "A rule you clearly adhere to, you absolute unit of muscle..."

"My best work is sometimes achieved in the desert..." she commented. "And yes, things have been excellent..."

Finally the subject came up as to what he was here for. Droid servants were already unloading the large crates.

"You'll be heading to Kirima, in the Kalinda system at the edge of Alliance space. Multiple kinds of outdated weapons, weighing in at roughly two-point-five thousand kilos a piece with the exception of some exceptionally heavy power suits weighing in at roughly two tons a piece. Ten crates in each category. Seventy crates in total." she elaborated as she led him to inspect the weapons inside the crates. She didn't want him to think he would be carrying anything exceptionally hot that was likely to bring attention he wouldn't want.

"In and of themselves, the weapons are fairly cheap, but this is a rush delivery, and so we are prepared to compensate you much more than these weapons would actually be worth at market value. SMG crates are valued at thirty thousand a piece, rifles at fifty thousand, squad support weapons at eighty thousand, biohazard suits at forty thousand and the power armor crates at one hundred fifty thousand each. Upon successful delivery, you will be paid an additional two million as well as this very interesting ship that you see behind me." she said, gesturing to the Percival-Class Corvette.

"Path Engine Equipped. Multiple survival countermeasures. It can get closer to stars than other ships it's size for extended periods, operate on irradiated worlds, even dive under water and be used as a sub. It can even fly in acid environments." she said. "Next Generation in comfort and it even has Pseudo-Stealth Technology, in the form of an optical cloak and adaptive camouflage system on the hull...does that sound like reasonable compensation, yet?" she asked flirtingly..."

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

"Mags, are you trying to make me blush, love?" He asked coyly in response to being called an absolute unit. She wasn't wrong.

"I could not be happier to hear things are all wiv you,"

Things for Joran were…chit, pretty fething great truth be told. He'd begin making moves on Naboo since his first meeting with Magda on New Cov and Joran had even been making moves on New Cov or New Cov's prime minister to be accurate, another sharp, sweet, smart, and dare he admit sexy woman who had hired Joran.

Joran had heard of smugglers that took professional pride in not asking questions about what they were hauling. Not looking at the package was some mark of professionalism. Joran could wipe his backside with their professionalism. The very first thing he did, invited or no, was look inside. How the hell else would he know if he was being paid properly? Thankfully this was not an issue as Magda not only gave him a rundown of what was to be expected she led him through the various crates and allowed him to put his own eyes on the material.

As Mags told Joran the price he could expect to be paid for this job he felt like sweating and it had nothing at all to do with the heat of the desert.

Credits like that for a single job? It was too good to be true, it was a fething trap, it was fething impossible to turn down.

"Aye, more than reasonable, love. Though I could think of a thing or two that could sweeten the deal," he flirted back. "I hear there's a rush on this delivery however and what I had in mind is best when taking one's time."

Magdalena Bloodscrawl

 

[Magdalena Bloodscrawl]

Magda only smiled. The Sorceress hiding behind her flesh and mind was pretty intrigued by his statement.

"I have an idea as to what could make it interesting for you..." she teased, finger going under his chin.

"Me riding shotgun the whole way..." Magda said, smiling.

Her flesh warped everywhere on her catsuit clad body, revealing her actual face.

"As long as you don't mind having a female shapeshifter to tag along, all the while devouring your presence..." she purred seductively.

"The full name is Magdalena, but keep calling me Magda, if you like..." she said. She would not have it said she was keeping him in the dark. About anything where she was concerned.

"I love it when the name exits your lips, personally..." she said slinking closer.

"And perhaps I could tolerate the delivery being...a tad late..." she flirted...

Joran Del-Finn