No More[The Underworld]

[Atlas Kane]

Thud.
Then a scraping noise.
He hated it when they did that. The noise that is. He removed the bit of sticky metal from the body's wrist.
No more scraping noise. No more struggling either, so double payout for minimal work.
He hated it when they did that. The fight had been short, but bloody, at least on one side. It got his favourite coat dirty.
But now there was no more struggling, thus no more bloodshed, thus a cleaner coat.
He hated it when that happened. The bloody part was always the most fun. Hunting a defenceless target is not very entertaining.
But this one had been entertaining. Very entertaining, indeed ...
What was he here for again? Ah, yes, the bounty ...

A masked man strode through the somewhat empty streets of Nar Shaddaa. He was dragging a limp body along with him. It seemed to be an almost casual thing for him, as if he'd done this sort of thing many times already, and given his appearance, it was very likely he had. The man was fairly tall, but thin. Most of his body was hidden behind a large mantle he wore around the entirety of his body. The only thing that wasn't covered by the mantle were his boots and his head, which in turn was covered by a mask, a deep shadow and a large hat. The body seemed to be connected to the man with a cable that went from the body's hands to underneath the mantle, where he had bound the cable to his arm.

It looked a bit strange, but strange was nothing out of the ordinary in this part of Nar Shaddaa. The man got a few odd stares, but no one exactly wanted to mess with the man who was dragging a bloody body behind him. So the man walked through the streets mostly undisturbed. That was, until he turned into a dark alleyway.

There were three figures there, waiting. One Trandoshan, one Aqualish and one Huma, all of them armed, as they proudly displayed. The masked man didn't pay them any attention, he walked past, shoving one of them aside when he tried to block his path. The three figures started shouting various obsceneties, threatening to shoot the man if he didn't stop. Their shouting grew louder and louder, until the sound of a blaster bolt interrupted the shouts. The Trandoshan had fired at the Masked Man, missing his mark, however, and hitting the man's hat.

He froze instantly as he saw his hat fly to the ground in front of him, a black hole burned into both the front and back of the hat from the blaster bolt. The three men started taunting him again, telling him it was a warning shot, that he should hand over the body and any credits and valuables he had, or else the next shot wouldn't miss. He turned around.

The Trandoshan was dead before the others even knew what hit them, a small blade sticking out of his throat. His two companions turned in shock, but the Human never even saw the Trandoshan fall to the ground, as he too was struck down by a blade. That left the Aqualish alone, who stumbled to the ground, crawling backwards into the corner created by a dumpster and the alley's wall.

"Don't. Ever. Touch. My. Hat."

The Man picked up the two blades, cleaned them, and stuck them back underneath his mantle. With his weapons collected, he turned back towards his hat, picked it up, inspected it for a short bit, then put it back on and continued walking. As he did, he noticed multiple signs and pieces of paper floating about, all with the same symbol. One of them flew into his face, so he took it and actually read what was on it. Something about anonymity, something something, smugglers ... pirates ... something something Jedi ... something something mark ... something friend. It sounded interesting enough. Definitely worth checking out. So the masked man changed direction, following the signs he saw on the walls, hoping to figure out who went through the effort of throwing about all these pieces of paper and spray-painting that sign onto the walls. So he continued walking towards where he thought he needed to go, still dragging the body along behind him.

 

[Noire]

[member="Slevin Thawne"] [member="Tydus Wryeens"]



The sound of their names breaking the intimate moment between Natalia and her beloved brought a flash of annoyance over her face. Bright emerald eyes went rolling from center to right to latch upon the arrival. Shadow Legion.

Pasting a feint smile on her crimson lips, the woman gave a slight arch of her chin. Ah, so he had seen the flyer as well.

"Hmm.. seems to be a movement towards a measure of cooperation from all those within the realm of scum and villainy." it was pointing out the obvious. Natalia and Slevin were going along with it to use for their own means.

 

[Zofia Marek]

The ganger blinked once and set his tumbler down with a dull thud of glass meeting lacquered wood.

"How...?" he started, his eyes wide. "The kark did you get this information? The hell did you get commlinks tapped and holocameras set up? You people only been here a month!"

"You'd be surprised how efficient my people can be and what tools we have to work with," she stated mildly. There was no need for the twi'lek to know that all it took was a few handfuls of credits in the right hands to gather, sort, and confirm the information she had. She'd let him think that her people had tapped commlinks and fully infiltrated to whatever level he felt they'd managed. "Now, with that information in hand, I'm sure you can see that your best bet is to deal directly with the RGTC."

The gang leader nodded once after a long moment. He knew when to fold the hand he'd been dealt and, thankfully, there was no one here to see his pseudo failure. He topped off his tumbler once more and sipped at the glass. It wasn't much of a sign to the Cathar, but it spoke volumes to someone who knew the basics of reading sentients. It meant he'd started bouncing back from his initial shock and was more or less acquiescent to her demands at this point.

"Any special way you want me takin' care of all this?" he asked after a moment, tapping the map printed on the flimsi sheet on the table. "Any... uh, order, you want them dealt with?"

"That all depends on if you sign that paper, Mr. Der'Cafa," was Marek's only response as she sipped her glass of wine. "Sign the contract and we'll get started. Or don't. Either choice sets everyone's fate in motion, for good or ill."

Der'Cafa sat there for a full minute, pausing only to sip at the tumbler of liquor as he studied the contract. He never touched it or flipped the pages, he didn't even seem to be reading it, but she knew what he was doing. He was weighing things in his mind, deciding on his fate and the fate of his thugs. She knew that groups like his were seen by most as a gang of miscreants and criminal scum, but a gang leader was one of two things: a violent psychopath or an aspiring thug. There were gray areas in between and such areas didn't count the Hutts, who transcended most rational variations of such categorization. For the Twi'lek, she knew he fell firmly in the realm of someone aspiring, not for greatness, but perhaps stability. She doubted he had a heart of gold, as many holomovies were quick to claim about the stereotypical thug and criminal, but she figured he wanted what was best for his gang and being slaughtered by her men or losing his position to someone who would lead the gang to destruction wasn't what he wanted.

After a few moments more and one last sip of alcohol... Der'Cafa picked up the pen on the table and signed the contract.

 

[Kendall Ginn]

A Weequay was sat down in a nightclub, nonchalantly scanning the room while taking small sips from his drink. He'd practically emptied his wallet getting in, but the price of the drink was worth it to be more anonymous, so despite his dwindling finances, Kendall knew he couldn't pass this up. He knew something big could come of tonight and this club was the epicenter.

Kendall had come to Nar Shadaa looking for such an opportunity, and quickly he found some interesting aspects, fliers posted up obnoxiously around the trashy streets, paired with a symbol Kendall was Rather fond of. Very subtle but memorable, and it didn't take a genius to follow the signs here. He didn't know much but the fliers had mentioned finding a friend, and Kendall damn well needed that to get out the repetitive rut of grunt work he'd found himself in.

For once, Kendall found his lack of recognition to be an asset as he solemnly sat by himself at the club, occasionally getting up to do a spot of what he calls an excuse for dancing, simply as an attempt to blend in. Meanwhile, he carefully observed the room, trying his best to identify those there to party, and those there for the reason he was. At some point he'd seen a cloaked man walk in, moving directly for the bartender. Kendall was observant enough to notice how the man quickly left for a stairway that clearly led to a VIP lounge.

'Alright, politics are starting, lets see where this leads' he settles in his seat sipping his drink waiting for a moment to take action, and figure out just what he's getting himself into.

 

[Leos Palle]

His fist slammed down against the cantina bar, the glass within it clinking on the smooth, but worn, surface.

"Another," he said to the Klatoonian behind the bar.

The creature grumbled about how he'd already drank enough, but proceeded to fill the order regardless. Credits were credits, and as long as the customers didn't get rowdy, there was no reason not to take their money. This was Nar Shaddaa, after all. Taking people's money came with the territory. Athelus didn't really care what the barkeep thought of him. Chances were high he'd be off to make another delivery soon. BB-22 rolled up and bumped into his leg. The Klatoonian promptly leaned over the bar and pointed at the droid and the door, but Athelus gave him the finger and ignored him. Considering how many credits he spent in the place, the barkeep could take a pass.

Turning around to look at the rolling droid, he lofted a brow and looked around. The rest of the crew wasn't around, so why had 22 come all the way there looking for him.

"What is it, 22?" he asked.

The little droid chirped at him and stuck out its little probe hand with a piece of paper stuck to it. Athelus reached out to take it, lifting it up so he could take a look at what was written on the paper. To his blurry eyes it appeared as nothing more than squiggles with a wierd squiggly U shape at the bottom of it. He did the whole trombone shtick, trying to get a better look at what the paper had to say. This resulted in him falling out of his chair and 22 giving him a 'whoa' sound. He winced and rubbed his backside, but waved his hand at the droid to say he was fine. When he looked at the paper, he could once again read it.

"Well now. Isn't this interesting... All the scum getting together. Very odd indeed."

He pocketed the paper and stood up.

"22 you better head back to the ship before you get into trouble. And avoid the alleyways. Anyone bugs you turn on your tracker."

The droid 'womp womped' at him and rolled off and out of the Cantina as Athelus looked around. Well, new days were dawning. He might as well find out what was going on.