Private Hard Merchandise

[Damien Dooku]

BESCANE, THE OUTER RIM
THEME​

HARD MERCHANDISE – EARLY 900 ABY​

Smog-ridden cities and cramped, dreary streets.

That was all that this planet had to offer, as long as you were willing to discount the crime and poverty festering within the heart of its cities. The fall of the Empire didn't improve the already tense situation, with Galentro moving entire districts of their industry off-world to maximize their profits once more. The jobless became destitute, and the vacuum left by Galentro's slow but steady exit provided the tinder for minor wars over territory to escalate into district-wide conflict.

Local syndicates battled one another in the streets, while off-world forces intervened on one side or another, or pushed their own interests against anyone who stood in their way. It was one of those forces who called for Damien's presence on this hellscape of a planet, though not for the usual contract that brought him to the Outer Rim's dark perfidious underbelly. There was no wet-work needed, nor any calls for him to retrieve one thing or another, or someone for that matter.

The job was simple enough– the delivery of a high-priority package to a certain big-shot of a District called Fifteen, and that was it. Simple enough, was his first thought, but in hindsight there was nothing ever so simple when it was him called to complete a task. They never allotted him the milk-runs deemed suitable to his less thorough peers, and Damien's paranoia had nearly convinced him mind that his bosses simply wanted to see how long it took for him to get killed, so they could stop paying his exorbitant fees altogether. It wasn't a bad move, were it not him they were trying to get over on.

But for now his attention would shift away from potential backstabs of the future, and back towards the narrow maze of tattered roads lining the District's interior. The parcel was discreetly tucked inside the line of his jacket, safe from anything short of a blaster bolt through his chest. Eventually his leisurely stroll would come to an end at the front of a non-descript dive sporting a shoddy neon sign. It was a cheap imitation of the kind you'd find on Nar Shadaa, but it was about the nicest thing one could find for a few blocks around.

He entered to little fanfare, the tone of the room being a complete inverse of the upbeat and colorful sign mounted on the wall outside the door. Only a few pair of eyes would bother to wander in his direction, but he'd already sauntered his way to one of the many inconspicuous booths lining the wall. Dark and Melodious music soothed his ears, providing the first bit of enjoyable stimulation since he'd stepped out of his fighter's cockpit. For a moment it even felt as if he could even relax– until the presence of another entered the booth across from him, that is.

His eyes slowly revealed themselves from beneath their lids, amber orbs idly tracing the sight of a human woman with an equally impassive look to her. He blinked, and she didn't respond in the slightest, and so the corner of his lips rose up in amusement once more. "You know– the suns are beautiful over Tatooine this time of year, sweetheart." The words left his lips with a hint of swagger, though from her tone one would assume it was taken as nothing more than overconfidence.

She leaned in close with a smile, then whispered in his ear. "Only in the darkness, only when it wanes."

Beautiful. He smiled along, and discreetly passed the parcel into her hands. The woman drew back, then slid out from the booth and walked off towards the back hallway. A cigarette found its way between his fingers as he leaned back in the booth and took a long drag.

Until another set of boots moved with a purpose in his direction.

"Well damn."

Already mid-drag, he continued to inhale before inevitably, trouble arrived at his presence.


Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

While this place failed to top the list of shittiest joints Capris had ever stepped foot in, it did manage to be memorably depressing. From her seat at the bar, the bounty hunter kept her shoulders squarely hunched over a soggy bantha burger and equally sad looking fries, her appetite suspiciously gone. Was it too much to expect a decent meal after trudging all the way out here? Her eyes were pulled up as some overworked, underpaid waitress shuffled past with dead eyes.

Yeah probably.

Whatever, she was here to work, not write mean-spirited reviews on the holonet. She could at least resist the temptation until she had payment in hand.

Speaking of…Capris watched with apparent disinterest as a tall, poker-faced individual walked through the dive. A positive ID, wonderful. She lifted her glass to her lips to hide a smile.

She knew next to nothing about the man or the people who conscripted her for this job. Maybe some former employers he pissed off? Or a rival gang? Really she couldn't find it in herself to care. They went with an outside hire for a reason, she wasn't about to waste time theorizing why. All she had was a name, a face, and a will to get shit done. When hadn't that been enough?

From her position at the bar, she kept an ear firmly planted in his conversation while some human woman sidled up to the booth. She watched as the package traded hands, taking note of the woman before she disappeared into the abyss.

Alright, I'm bored.

Capris downed the rest of her glass before slipping off the bar stool and smoothing down her jacket. Calm, tawny eyes found their way to Damien and his now unoccupied booth in the next moment. With a deliberate movement she made her way over, hoping to gain his attention gradually.

She placed a hand on the table, producing her own cigarette from a jacket pocket. Capris didn't smoke, but she found it a mighty useful tool when it came to inserting herself into conversations where she didn't belong, "I assume you have a light?" She asked with all the nonchalance of a bar regular, raising an expectant eyebrow at the man. "I genuinely think smoke would taste better than whatever the hell they're dishing out, so help me out here?"

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

The figure who approached him was not entirely what he was expecting; Damien was use to the scoundrels and thugs, the reformed criminal-turned-bounty hunter who was far too prideful to let their quarry go astray. It was those types who he preferred to come after him, if he were being honest. They made it easier to kill, given their propensity for bad manners, and a general sense of bad vibes that accompanied them.

The woman who approached his table piqued something different in the depths of his mind's eye– something that he wasn't use to feeling in this world of skullduggery that he'd immersed himself in to the fullest.

Familiarity.

An eyebrow raised as he turned his head ever-so-slightly to look her right in the eyes. The corner of his lips remained curled into a smirk as he studied her face for the new few moments in silence. He took another drag from his cigarette, then sat it down in the grimy ashtray in front of him, slowly reaching a hand inside of his jacket without once removing his gaze away from her own.

Damien produced a lighter, the blaster holstered on his hip now more than visible, but clearly not being reached towards in the slightest. Rather than being defensive, the scoundrel was all too inviting to the newcomer with unknown intentions. He placed the lighter on the table and withdrew his hands back, lifting them behind his head and using them as impromptu padding as he leaned back into the booth.

"Those are fightin' words for some of the scoundrels in here, you know." His voice was low enough to not draw too much attention in their direction, but filled with an underlying confidence that complimented his seemingly nonchalance towards her surprise visit. "Luckily for you, i'm feelin' alot more amicable than these poor bastards might be, but I don't have the patience to maintain these charades all night."

He nodded towards the empty side of the booth, gesturing for her to join him, if only to remove her indiscreet presence from the side of his booth. The bar wasn't the safest place for a surprise interaction, and given he'd just concluded some pretty important business just moments before, the discretion would be appreciated.

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

"Glad I caught you in a giving mood then." The girl commented, slipping into the seat across from him, "I'll try not to overstay my welcome".

Maybe she'd studied his profile too long, but something about this man sounded alarm bells in the back of her mind. It wasn't enough to shake her, but it certainly encouraged a bit more caution than she'd typically exercise.

"Though if I'm being honest, I wouldn't hate the company." Reclining in her own seat, Capris swept the room with a pointed look "Probably not a great idea to have unrestricted access to booze when it's just me and my thoughts. And you seem like the only person in here who wouldn't immediately rip my head off if I started talking."

For some rando in a bar that was most definitely involved in some sketchy shit he proved surprisingly, what's the word, agreeable?

"Besides," She placed the cigarette between her teeth and used her one hand to light it, then promptly tossed the canister back to Damien. "This vice is a lot more budget friendly."

She took a drag, hating every moment of it.

"I appreciate it. Civility Is a rare find down here."

Letting the cigarette rest between two fingers, Capris arced an eyebrow.

"Which leads me to the assumption you're from off-world?"

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

Damien caught the lighter with one hand, the gesture so fluidly timed that it could've been a parlor trick in its own right. He continued to study her quietly, perhaps even enjoying the genuine company of someone of the opposite persuasion were it not relegated to this hellscape of a city they called District 15. It sounded too grimdark for his liking, almost as if the administrators of the world had decided to lean into the dystopian to match its equally grunge environment.

The flattery wasn't going to break through his guard, in any case. He was a sucker for a few good words on a good day, but today she'd caught him tired and truly ready to hit the hay. Nonetheless, he was keeping things civil; He was cool as a winter on Hoth, seemingly listening quietly outside the occasional exhale of smoke into the air.

The silence would only break once the woman's series of conversation bits finally ended with the only bit that truly caused him to show any bit of a reaction. He raised an eyebrow, his head tilting down a bit so as to match the sight of his eyes with her own in the relaxed posture he was in. "Dumb and pretty, huh?" His statement wasn't followed by a chuckle, or the ending set-up of a joke– atleast not at first.

The corner of his lips opened as he let out a low laugh, genuine enough while still somehow maintaining a low enough profile to garner no extra attention. He took another drag from his cigarette, then leaned forwards, one elbow planted on the table while his face pressed into his right palm. "...I could be askin' you the same question under these circumstances, miss. Friendly as you are, I highly doubt you fit in with the smog-lunged locals, or even the local syndicates and their ilk."

He flicked the ashes down into the circular tray between them. "You see, in my line of work, that tends to get you killed."

It was a matter-of-fact statement and not a threat, judging from his tone. His eyes made no attempt to command authority or threat as he continued to look across the table, but at the very least his last statement was far from the dry humor the previous one may have been.

Damien shrugged, breaking the tension this time around while idly rolling the cigarette between his finger, the grin returning to his nonchalant visage. "I might be willing to share a bit more information if the curious stranger starts out with their name."

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Her last statement got a reaction out of him. Right- he wasn't going to be as cooperative as she'd hoped.

Capris pointedly ignored his assessment of her, stifling a twitch of irritation.

"You see, in my line of work, that tends to get you killed."

"Does it?" She asked, a sarcastic lilt in her voice to ride off his initial comment about her intelligence. "That sounds awful."

Reclining back in her seat, she threw an arm over the back cushion, meeting his unbothered gaze with her own.

"I'm a smuggler. Freelance. Clearly not making great money if this is how I'm spending my night." She gestured vaguely at him, as if to say all her cards were on the table, "That's all I've got. Well- outside of the pretty face and lack of brain cells apparently."

He commanded a frustratingly good rein of the conversation, his knuckles practically white with how tight of a leash he kept his trust on. That came at no surprise, she more than understood the impulse. Still if she could just chip at his walls a little longer...

"This isn't an interrogation, answer what you want to answer. I'm looking for a conversation, not your home address." She rolled her eyes lightly, a small smile apparent on her lips. "And the name is Rin."

The girl slouched, levying an eyebrow at Damien. "Now do I get the privilege of knowing yours, or am I going to have to waterboard that out of you?"

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

She was oddly comfortable, despite the clear signs of discretion that he laid thick at every question being thrown his way. Damien was far from the grizzled, hard-eyed scoundrel that was far more normal than he was willing to admit, but he wasn't just a pretty face with no brains either. The reputation he'd garnered through his misadventures on the Rim had preceded the completion of enough jobs to cement him as reliable,and discreet when it was needed.

It had also landed a solid bounty on his head, much to the dismay of his mother. The last time he'd talked to her the scoundrel had gotten an earful about his– and he impressed this on her too – alleged crimes, and that she would not fix anything until he decided to get his shit together, or whatever that meant.

He had also accrued more enemies in the underworld than your average citizen had rewards cards, but that came with the turf when you were as good as him. Whether it was rival scoundrels or syndicates with a grudge, he'd survived his run-ins with fate and came out of it alive. Even the odd bounty hunter or three had tried to collect on his head, but Damien was still kicking.

With another draw of his cigarette, he blew a circular cloud into the air, fixating upon the ceiling as he did so.

"This isn't an interrogation, answer what you want to answer. I'm looking for a conversation, not your home address." She rolled her eyes lightly, a small smile apparent on her lips. "And the name is Rin."

Amber eyes resettled upon Rin, and he smirked.

"Damien." His lips further creased until she was privvy to what looked to be an amused smile. "Damien Dooku."

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

She had her guy.

Maybe if she’d paid any amount of attention in the Galactic History courses she’d been enrolled in during her time at the temple, Capris would’ve realized the importance of his admission. That she was sitting across from a member of a political dynasty that under no circumstance should she be messing with. Not if she valued the current obscurity she operated under.

But there was some truth to Damien’s statement. She was kinda stupid.

Brushing off a faint buzz of recognition like one might an insect, Capris tilted her head. “Alliteration.” She noted, “Your parents must’ve had fun with that one.”

From beneath the table, she sent a message through her commlink. Confirmation that she’d had her target in sight. According to the job description she was supposed to dump him off at a nearby warehouse, collect her payment, and be on her merry way. Whatever her employers wanted with him; information, a ransom, slow and painful death, was none of her business. Did it have something to do with the woman from earlier? Quite possibly, but she didn’t care to connect the dots.

She wasn’t getting paid for that.

“You’re hard to get a read on Damien.” She admitted, humoring the paradox in his behavior. It was rare someone could appear totally and utterly relaxed while also leaving the impression they were alert of every last movement you made. "It's a bit unnerving."

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

“Alliteration.” She noted, “Your parents must’ve had fun with that one.”

Damien smiled at the remark, though he wouldn't follow that specific one up with anything witty in response. He'd never question why his parents had decided to name what Damien, and at this point it didn't even matter. He was the scion of two legacies but had done his best to separate himself from both with a vengeance, so much so that he found himself accustomed to dives' like the one they were in far more than the apartment he grew up in back on Coruscant.

His name was a curse. It carried the weight of millions behind it, and the powers that knew his true identity had known better to seek out the one known as Dooku.

“You’re hard to get a read on Damien.” She admitted, humoring the paradox in his behavior. It was rare someone could appear totally and utterly relaxed while also leaving the impression they were alert of every last movement you made. "It's a bit unnerving."

Rin was an isolated case, that much he'd admit. The allure of laying on that galaxy-famous charm while keeping his perception as cool as ice on Hoth had proven to be well worth the effort. He'd revealed much more than his guest knew by simply revealing the name he inherited from his father. While Damien Denko carried the Chancellor's presence on his back like a Starbird in flight, Damien Dooku cast a wide shadow to his front that he was guessing she knew nothing about.

He tilted his head momentarily, curiously eyeing her down, as if waiting to see if she had any idea just what she'd gotten herself into. Nothing came, and so he leaned forwards and chuckled in genuine amusement, breaking the ice-cold visage with the sudden display of emotion. "You're a funny gal, Rin." Damien sat his cheek nonchalantly into his palm while off-handedly ashing out his cigarrete. "You've rolled yourself into a Black Sun front lookin' for idle conversation and perhaps some free smokes– and you think i'm gullible enough to fawn over the admittedly much pretty eyes before me, eh?"

Damien clicked his teeth, then shook his head as if in disappointment. His back pressed against the booth in a manner not too dissimilar from her own just a moment before. "You're either a narc or too gullible to see when you're the pawn in a much more perfidious game."

Amber orbs danced from the ceiling, fixating on Rin with apathy and amusement amalgamated together. "The name Dooku ain't what you're given unless they're sending their messenger to die."

Beneath the table his hand idly curled around the hilt of his blaster. "So tell me, Rin. Are you a narc?" Gently the weapon slid a hair's length out of his holster.

"Or a pawn sent to die, so the much bigger fish can try their luck where you were meant to fail."

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this was inevitable. It’s exactly what she wanted in a way, for things to go horribly wrong, to do something she couldn’t come back from. She knew she was coming into this blindsided, she knew the bounty was set far too high for this just to be a simple extraction.

Something about playing with her own life, to see how far she could nosedive into the fallout of her shitty decisions before it all caught up to her it was just… far too tempting. Self-destructive tendencies aside, she was in over her head, and had no one to blame but herself. But she hated herself to a marginal extent already so really, what was there to lose?

“Can there be a third option?”

Not that she needed one. She was most definitely the gullible pawn about to do something stupid with little concern for her own safety.

“I don’t particularly plan on failing.”

As Damien reached for his blaster, Capris readied her own defense. Maybe this conversation wasn’t entirely beyond saving, but she was the impatient type. And also concerningly trigger happy.

Faint etchings all along her arm hummed to life in blue lines. On the table, the liquid within an abandoned glass solidified before morphing into a spire of ice. One that shot towards Damien in the next moment, stopping directly at his jugular. Just close enough to prick skin and send a bead of blood trickling down his collarbone if he so much as breathed.

“Sorry for the insolence, clearly I don’t know who I’m talking to.” Capris responded flatly, “Care to inform me, big guy? Or can you not be bothered.”

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

DAMIEN'S THEME​

THERE'S DANGER IN STARTING A FIRE​

“Can there be a third option?”

YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GOIN' TO GET​

There was always a third option if you were good enough.​

It wouldn't take long for him to understand where she was going, though the method by which it happened was definitely a new one in his books. "Hm?" For what it was worth, he remained stalwart up until the moment it pricked his skin, his blood pooling with droplets of melted ice into a thin line going down his neck upon the next breath. He couldn't help his lips creasing back into a smirk, though it was less out of amusement and more from the adrenaline pooling in the pit of his stomach.

"Perhaps I should've shot first." He chimed back, not bothering to address her question yet. If she allowed, he would take a a lone finger and lazily push the spear of ice away from his neck. Leaning slowly back into his seat, his fingers slipped off the handle of his weapon, and both his hands moved into sight on the table above. "But like I said from the jump, i'm feeling a bit amicable this evening."

Unfortunately for them both, such a display of whatever it was she'd just done had not come and gone without the fanfare of others. He looked into his periphery and noticed the Bartender had paused mid-shine of the glass in his hands, his form slowly hunching down in an effort to discreetly reach for something under the table.

Damien's index and middle fingers stood up, then slowly circled a gesture that caught the Bartender's attention. His gaze had not fully shifted away from Rin though, and he sat the two fingers back onto the table once the message had been clearly received. "I'm nothin' more than one of the galaxy's most humble, yet dashing scoundrels." He continued on, and the Bartender slowly rose back up to his feet and resumed shining the glass in his hand.

"I'm Damien, that's it." He tapped along with the smooth, dark jazz rumbling in the background. It was partially why he'd enjoyed coming to this dive in particular when he was on the payroll with Black Sun. "...But Damien Dooku is a name you're not supposed to know, Rin." There were no threats to his tone or hostility in his voice. He'd returned to that cool, unnervingly smooth façade once the adrenaline had come and gone.

"Whoever told you to find me by that name, well." He shrugged. "They sent you to die. Either by my own hands, by Black Sun, or..." He thought about it for a second. Theoretically that too was a possibility, but he'd kept that card in his hand. "There's a few other scenarios I 'spose you don't come outta this alive, but I digress." He peered into her eyes, looking for any sign of her intentions if they just so happened to filter through her gaze. "I've got enemies in high places who would use you to find me, only to see both you and I dead in the end. A bomb, perhaps? I doubt they'll rush into this dive given the firepower in the back, but once we step outside..."

He rattled his fingers to a halt.

"Were you followed?"​

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Stupid.

Capris would have pinched the bridge of her nose if the situation was any different. This guy seemed to think his name carried a certain weight to it, and based on the gravity the conversation was plummeting towards, he probably wasn’t bluffing. So why didn’t she know who the feth he was?

Capris remained unresponsive for a moment, eyes on Daimen.

She’d lived in relative isolation from any and all galactic affairs up until the age of 15. That wasn’t a lot of time to catch up, especially when you were never taught to read in the first place. She’d always felt like some stupid backwater hick standing next to the other padawans and their premiere temple-grade education. It was easier to bury the feeling than to camp out in the archives every night and try to compensate.

I’m not dying over this bastard.

“So, what I’m gathering is that I’ve been fethed over and unwittingly tied my fate to yours?”
She let the needle of ice be moved, a slight grimace carving her face. She didn’t want to believe him. It would be so much easier just to write Damien off as just some cocky s-o-b high off his own ego. But annoyingly, the nagging influence of the force which loved to yank her like a puppet on strings, gave legitimacy to his warning.

"Were you followed?"​

She sighed

“Not that I'm aware. But that doesn’t matter now anyway, they have our coordinates.”

Her eyes fell back onto Daimen’s, resentful but also strangely tired.

“What do you suppose then?” She cocked her head to the side, the spire of ice mimicking her movement as her tawny eyes drifted to the bartender. “I’m sure you have more surprises up your sleeve.”

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

"What do you suppose then?"​

His hands lifted off the table to accompany the shrug that followed. "That depends on solely on your next three moves." He responded with that same nonchalant grin creased onto his lips. The movement of the ice in tandem with her own was an amusing little parlor trick to see. A deadly one he'd add, especially had she not stayed its course while it still aimed at his jugular.

His index finger pointed from his left hand. "Your first move is to get rid of this needle. In case you haven't figured out, we're not at what i'd call your alcoholic uncle's favorite dive, if you catch my drift." He'd mentioned it once in passing already, but the Bar was connected back to his employers, and they appreciated a bit of discretion out of its patrons. "Unless you're lookin' to have Black Sun devote a bit of their time and resources to cutting off your head." Once again his words were not a threat. All she had to do was take a single look around at its occupants to understand the hornet's nest that she was led into.

His middle finger rose up alongside the other.

"Your second move is simple." He pointed to one of the half-filled glasses on the table. "Whatever comms' devices you've got on you, give 'em a nice little bath." Nothing too complicated, but important nonetheless. They may have already pinpointed their coords, but opportunity would present itself to break the trail once they made it outside. It could also just as easily lead into a trap– but some things were inevitable when cards had already been put onto the table.

His ring finger lifted to join the previous two, and the smirk receded back into cold apathy. "You've got a tracking fob on me, yeah?" It was a guess; Damien had not confirmed if she was a hunter or a narc, but he wasn't the easiest to track in the first place. Few in the underworld were aware of his connections outside of it, and those who not only did, but had the capability to put a fob out on him narrowed it down to no more than two.

He had to confirm it for himself, and an outstretched palm slid across the table. "Let me see it."

Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Her little "parlor trick" was the only thing that could weasel out a break in his character. Suffice it to say she wasn't all that keen on giving up precious leverage. The bounty hunter had struggled to feel any amount of control over her life the past year, even just a moment's reprieve was nice.

Still, being fairly in touch with reality, Capris realized the only viable option laid out before her was damage control. Letting the needle hover a moment, she kept steady eye contact with Damien as a small blue flame ignited at the bottom, reducing the makeshift blade to water which subsequently pooled around her commlink.

And there went her only immediate form of outside communication.

Maybe she would've hesitated if there was anything of value to lose, but her contact list was exactly what you'd expect from a girl who'd burnt all her bridges. There'd never been an option to phone in help.

Shifting in her seat, Capris levied a pointed look at Damien's as if to say, happy?

"You've got a tracking fob on me, yeah?"

Capris considered lying, but that was only born out of stubborn impulse. Handing it over would give her at least a glimpse of insight into how Daimen's mind was making sense of everything. She had to admit she was a bit curious.

Still she just watched him a moment, almost in a refusal to comply, before her hand slipped into the confines of her jacket and emerged with a locator, dispensing the fob in his outstretched palm.

"All yours." she conceded, one eyebrow raised higher than the other, "Galaxy's most humble scoundrel."

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

"All yours." she conceded, one eyebrow raised higher than the other, "Galaxy's most humble scoundrel."

As if to press the metaphorical blade of his unnerving cool and propensity for guile even further, he offered her up a wink in return. "..Why thank you very much, miss." His voice briefly returned to the standard Coruscanti dialect he'd grown up with. The eclectic-sounding mixture of Serennoan and Corellian blended together to form the cool and casual Rimward tone, but for a short moment she got a brief peek beneath the surface.

Without further ado the fob receded back to his side of the table, and he stared at it just long enough to see what he was working with. Damien reached inside of his jacket, raising his gaze to meet hers to ensure the woman he wasn't pulling any fast moves on her. He removed a multi-tool from a pocket on the inside and went to work unscrewing the back of the fob open. They were hardy little devices on the exterior, but their insides were about as delicate as the communicator she short-circuited with water. "Gimme a sec' here, yeah?" Rhetorical as always, Damien wasn't asking.

He removed the back casing and fiddled with the internal screws keeping the circuit board and processing chip in place. It was a relatively slow process to begin with, but he did his best to speed things up on her behalf. Popping the components out of place, Damien flipped the tongs up and out from inside the tool and pressed gently down upon either side of the datachip attached between the two pieces.

It popped out for a click, the light on the fob dimming until it dissipated altogether. "Time to see who we're dealin' with." He said for to break the tension than anything else. The little chip was inserted into a slot on his wrist-comms, the light on the screen turning bright as information flooded within.

One of his pupils turned a bright neon blue, the HUD only visible to him showing the data as it was parsed. Seconds compounded onto each other until a full minute had swung by on the clock. His eye shifted back to its native amber, and he blinked once before resuming his gaze across at Rin.

Damien leaned back in the booth and lit another cigarette. "Huh. This is new." It wasn't an answer yet, but he also wanted to take another long drag while he considered what he saw. "I was expectin' the Zords', maybe." They were a powerful Hutt cartel located in former Silver Jedi space, near the border of the Alliance's eastern fringe. "Maybe a double-cross from Black Sun." He eyed the Bartender in his periphery, who was still pretending to not be paying attention as he idly cleaned the same damn glass.

"...But what in the hell is COMPNOR?" This time the question was open-ended, but he wouldn't fault her for not knowing either. The data he'd parsed didn't indicate any overt connections to the major Five syndicates he was aware of, but somehow they had more than enough information to track him down.

The breadcrumbs were there to find out, but if the trap had been already set it might've made things a bit more difficult.

Capris Halcyon

honorary mention: Sinestra | Djorn Bline
​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

"Hell if I know. " Her shoulders shrugged up in dismissive unison, "But they're willing to pay a steep price for you so you must've done something memorable to piss them off." Her head tilted unsympathetically, "Wrack your brain Damien."

She wasn't being helpful, there was far too much spite coursing through her system. Either way, a moment passed and she leaned over the table, finally showing some concern for their level of discretion.

"Look, I'm typically not solicited for jobs like these. My market's more… fauna than it is people." Fauna meaning Sith spawn in her case, she had her niche and she stuck by it. "I'm a tracker, not someone who ferries around pricks like you to whatever higher power they offended. I think you're right to assume these people weren't looking for a clean extraction, just a lure with little to no internal connections who could get close without entirely scaring you off."

She regarded his assessment of the fob, he was clearly practiced.

"Which is to assume A you're a hard man to get ahold of and B you're more valuable to them dead than alive. And we already know one of those things to be true. So what does an organization you and I know nothing about have to gain from your removal if they're not business partners looking to lap up the spoils of a power vacuum?"

It was a probing question, and definitely not meant to blow the top off their case. She just wanted to know what his deal was in all honesty. Though she had the faintest suspicion he'd remain as withholding as ever.

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

"Hell if I know. " Her shoulders shrugged up in dismissive unison, "But they're willing to pay a steep price for you so you must've done something memorable to piss them off." Her head tilted unsympathetically, "Wrack your brain Damien."

It was entirely possible that he'd pissed off these COMPNOR guys somehow, but generally he made it a habit to keep track of the organizations that he burned. It was a short list in any case, but he did his best to wrack his brain as she so eloquently put it. He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the wooden table, thinking and analyzing the last few jobs he'd undertook. When that didn't work he thought back even further, then cross-referenced his dealings with the two organizations in question who he knew had a mark on his name.

"Yeah– nothin'." Was his response, and he shrugged again. Damien didn't bother to dig further into her occupation once the few discreet hints were given. It didn't matter whether she hunted sentients or otherwise as long as he wasn't her mark. Not that he was worried– They had bigger concerns to take into consideration.

The bar was their only sanctuary to keep whoever these goons were from making their move on them both. He wasn't sure how much of his reasoning had gotten through to her, but he was pretty sure there was a slim chance in hell that she had a better ending planned than what they had in store for him. She had indeed managed to catch him at the perfect time to get close enough to be a threat, and her presumption that he wouldn't have been scared was true as well. Shy of a 'roided up Wookie, he could always prime a disruptor shot and take down something big.

"Which is to assume A you're a hard man to get ahold of and B you're more valuable to them dead than alive. And we already know one of those things to be true. So what does an organization you and I know nothing about have to gain from your removal if they're not business partners looking to lap up the spoils of a power vacuum?"

He nodded along as she continued on pressing him to dig deeper, and he clicked his teeth as success proved no further than it'd been at the start. He took another long drag and held it within his lungs, his eyelids shut closed and he leaned his bead further back into the seat. "The problem with this equation, Rin." He blew out another cloud, as he lifted his head to resume looking her way.

"Both Ay and Bee are true." He allowed a moment to pass before saying anything else. He slowly eased his cards onto the table, but not fully. Damien would let her decipher the layers on her own with the breadcrumbs he was comfortable letting out. "I've got a uhh...complicated past. Yeah, to put it lightly." Damien chuckled. "There's only two orgs i'm certain have the means to come after my head, but from what I can parse from that chip, neither are connected."

He scratched at the back of his head. "The Commission for the Preservation of the New Order..." Fingers tapped rhythmically once more. "I could've swore I've heard some of this before..." He wracked his brain some more. "The.. New Order." His eyes widened, and for the second time that night he broke the facade in a display of genuine surprise. "...The New Order..." He'd definitely heard of this before!

...AND THEN IT HIT HIM​

"...The Empire?"





Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

As anticipated, he didn't give her much to work with. Even her own vague concessions hadn't managed to draw him out any. She'd have to apply pressure elsewhere. Either way Damien came to the conclusion she could not. The Empire.

Capris blinked, almost appearing ready to strangle Damien herself. Had she gotten herself into this situation on her own will and accord? Yes. Would she much rather shirk the blame onto the man across her? Also yes.

"You've got some sway in other arenas, don't you?" He wasn't just a criminal. It perhaps an obvious statement to make this far into the conservation but that was kind of the point she hoped to make. Was she looking at some mob-affiliated politician? What possible interest could the Empire have with the likes of him.

Maybe it all came back to that name of his, which he seemed to tote around like a weapon. Either it was something he managed to carve out himself, or -what she was gradually beginning to assume was the case- an inheritance.

"What would they possibly want with you."

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

"You've got some sway in other arenas, don't you?"​

...ON DEMON'S WINGS​

Damien eyed her for a while instead of answering the question outright. There was plenty that he was leaving out of their conversation as far as context went, and he wasn't yet in a position to reveal those details out in the open. His gaze swept over the occupants of the bar in a slow tilt of his head. He was caught between the metaphorical rock and the hard place as far as what awaited them outside went, and the hornet's nest they occupied.

"There are some things best left howling in the dark." Damien spoke up. His eyes swayed from patron to patron until they made their way back to her. "..Cause you never know what you're goin' to find once you start looking." There was a warning beneath the flowery words of one accustomed to the dark. He did not trust Black Sun no farther than their credits and safe havens went, and that trust would evaporate the moment his identity ever fell into their hands.

For so long he'd done his best to remain in the shadow of the ones who cursed him with this legacy. Damien ventured from one star to the next to cement a reputation that relied solely upon himself, his skill and talent for the life of a scoundrel unquestionable at this point. He did everything right, yet the ghosts of his past refused to stay dead.

Another drag of his cigarette filled his lungs back up with smoke. ​

"What would they possibly want with you."​

He looked away from Rin and blew the smoke towards the stained floor. There were a number of theories racing through his mind, the connection between him and the Empire, and more specifically his father. It was impossible to settle on one theory over the next until he possessed more answers, but that would require them to spring the trap that had been set.

"I might have an idea. A running theory if you wanna call it that, or a breadcrumb for us to follow." Damien inhaled the final drag left, then flicked the cigarette with surprising accuracy into the ashtray. He leaned across the table and said the next words with discretion in mind. "It's about my father."

Slipping out from the booth after that revelation, Damien unwrinkled the edges of his leather jacket and waited for her to follow. "But we won't get the chance to unscrew ourselves if we're dead, so c'mon–" He nodded at the the back hallway with a rogueish grin.

"We've got a trap to spring in reverse."
​

fin​

Capris Halcyon ​