Our Collective

[Janeth Farr]

Janeth nodded to Malen. "Good."

Then she turned to Evoros who asked a question. "This is Nar Shaddaa. Everything is dangerous to someone." She didn't know enough about the situation to give a straight answer. Sure there would be dangers, but if they were smart they could avoid them at every turn. Some things either could not be avoided or were too easily missed to avoid. They would get to those things when the time came, and all they could do now is prepare and await that moment.

If their objective is to bring the Gank Killers into the fold, then they would need to begin their descent into the undercity.

"We'll take a pair of airspeeders down into that abyss... That's the easy part though."

She didn't need to explain the hard part, as they all knew the risks.

Janeth watched Hazel and Jest make their move. "Alright, we're splitting up, everyone maintain radio contact. Those with me let's go!" The Mandalorian made her way to where a group of airspeeders were parked. Most were left idle, armed with tracking devices in case they were ever stolen. It wasn't a difficult job to remove those trackers if you knew your models though, and from years of experience she did.

[member="Evoros"] | [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Jest de Rous"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Hazel Zanteres"] | [member="Antherion"]

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Well, what occurred next was not surprising and a disappointment. The young Munin came here simply for a mere deal of some sort. No one had shot first yet, but he and his troops were ready for anything. Their acidthrowers would and anti-personnel wrist rockets could take on groups of them if violence erupted. All of them were armed with heavy blaster pistols and Mandalorian Rippers, not to mention their advanced hand to hand combat when dealing with singular opponents alone. Jetpacks would be no good besides their missile attatched to it.

They were outnumbered, but they weren't outmatched.

Or at least that's how Lok thought of the situation.

"I don't think you'll find that approach profitable, Gorba. Not when you're in the middle of this." Lok was cocky and arrogant, he had that invincible mentality all because he was wearing Mandalorian Steel armor and Mandalorian grade tech on it. Same said with the other warriors. "I'm only here to make a mutual deal, nothing else. A deal that'll make your profits tenfold in the long run and make you king of this moon. How's that sound?"

Hopefully the Hutt had a conscience and pay close attention to the Outlaw's words.

[member="Gorba the Hutt"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Bareesh Pleasure Palace on Nar Shaddaa

The response came in the form of Gorba pushing a button on his armpad. The blue shimmer of a personal shield snapped into existence around the dias, a curtaining aegis to the Hutt and those standing closest to him. Firefights could be bloody things. Gorba had been in one before. It'd cost him an eye. He didn't plan on being numbered among the dead.

In the corner, a raquor'daan wolf standing beside its Weequay master growled. The Ganks on the opposite side of the room watched, hands casually on their weapons. Gorba paid them, but they weren't technically on the job right now. Didn't mean they wouldn't start shooting.

The Vodran captain of the retainers stepped forward, wielding a menacing vibroaxe, and spoke to [member="Lok Munin"].

"Kapa tonka! Drop the weapons or you fry."

Gorba watched placidly from behind the barrier. These Mandalorians here were probably relations of the leader, if this band worked like most Mandos. A shame. It meant the leader cared about their lives. Gorba had no such compunctions.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

That was unexpected. Very unexpected. Lok didn't thought of that shield protecting the Hutt which was a good protective countermeasure when potential violence like this was in play. Of course that meant Gorba's life wouldn't be used as leverage against the Hutt.

"Lok, you stupid son of a-" a Munin clansmen said in the encrypted commlink of Lok's helmet where only Lok could hear the voice and no one else.

"Shut up, we're still in the game," the Outlaw simply said to his comrade.

A reptilian thug came up to Lok and threatened a vibroaxe at the youngster and ordered him and his crew to drop their weapons. No way was the Munin going to take orders from some scum like this. Not because he was a Mandalorian, but because he was done taking orders from people like this when he was a mere child living in the Underworld of Coruscant and being the punching bag of the gang he used to work with.

"Feth off," the Mandalorian responded back and dropped a sonic detonator on the floor which would unleash an annoying high frequency pitches. Annoying and painful. The thugs would most likely scream in agony and cover their ears from the pitch of the detonator. Lok and his squad didn't. The Outlaw would then make his move and and gun down the Vodran with his DUR-24 wrist laser before moving on to the next henchmen. The Munin clansmens would also make their move and eliminate their hostiles via whatever efficient method they executed.

The main room soon turned into a firefight zone.

[member="Gorba the Hutt"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Bareesh Pleasure Palace on Nar Shaddaa

The wail of the sonic grenade caused those in the vicinity of the sound to clutch their ears and fall to their knees, adding to the noise with their pained cries before the Mandalorians cut them down. The wrist laser blew through the captain's light blast vest at point-blank range, ventilating the body. The smell of charred flesh grew thick, mingling with and then overpowering the lingering scents of pheromones and spice. Blood flowed upon the throne room floor.

The blare of an alarm soon joined the grenade's wail. Along the hallways adjoined with the throne room came the tramping of boots as more retainers trickled in from other parts of the palace, flowing in past the looming Houks.

Gorba glowered and placed pudgy fingers in his earholes, muttering a string of curses. Another Vermilic assassination attempt, no doubt. Unlucky. Nagoon was in a room at the Godsheart. He would be on his way now, wondering what the racket was that disturbed him. Gorba grimaced as a beskad clove through the head of a Nikto in a shower of vitae. Boboqueque take these Mandalorian scum.

He turned, taking his finger out of one earhole long enough to gesture to the unaffected Ganks in the corner. They wore helmets, so apparently they were the only useful bunch at the moment. Keeta, in the yellow helmet, looked at him, then nodded. They would be asking for more upgrades after this. So be it. Anything to get rid of these armored pests.

The cyborg contract killer pulled a KD-30 from a shoulder holster, aimed, and fired at a Mando in a smooth motion that suggested it wasn't his first time downrange. The acid in the hollow slugs could eat straight through armor. Not a fun business. The other Ganks also opened fire, moving in perfect harmony, as if they could read each others' thoughts.

All in all, the floor of Gorba's throne room became a very messy place, leaving him increasingly displeased. Someone was going to pay for all this...

[member="Lok Munin"]

 

[Lemon]

The mysterious Fett was within the Hutt's palace, watching and observing. What his business there wasn't in anyone's know-how, and it wasn't likely that he'd tell. Among the Underworld he was known for being an enigma, all bar his reputation. This seemed to be very in character for him.

He watched from a distance in a lax manner as the verbal exchange was conducted, and then when the blaster fire erupted and death seemed to scatter about the Hutt's Throne Room, Fett partook in the combat. Perhaps an added bonus to his paycheck, something he had hoped for at least. Shifting into a more combat viable stance and position, his green, red and orange-yellow armor stuck out like a sore thumb.

It was on a balcony above that the Mandalorian Armor Clad Fett stood, and when he decided to intervene his red-trimmed wrist took aim at the squadron of Mandalorians - firing a barrage of heavy blaster bolts in a horizontal arc, intending to kill a member of Munin's squad or two, possibly even more. If any of them had looked up to where he was, then maybe that could recognize the infamous Mandalorian Warrior who was known for following nobodies orders but his own.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Most of the opposition was eliminated. It was bloody and crude. The retainers had no chance in defending themselves against Lok and his soldiers. They couldn't even fire one shot of their weapons. Blood painted the chambers of Gorba and all that was left was Gorba, a squad of Ganks, and a lone Mandalorian Bounty Hunter that would be declared dar'manda. It amazed him that someone in Mandalorian armor would have the mind to shoot another fellow warrior for an uncaring Hutt.

Or maybe it was some random person that had stolen the armor from another Mando and made it for himself. Either way it didn't bother Lok, but maybe to his other comrades that were more hardcore in the Mandalorian culture than he.

"Find cover," he ordered after a few acidic slugs impacted on him and started eating his armor. Thankfully the power armor liner made his armor resistance to acid, heat, electricity, and the cold. The Outlaw flipped a table and had three of his warriors take cover with him. The others did the same. Unfortunately three of his men were knocked out of the fight, but they were still breathing. They were limited in assisting the squad mates except their ammunition and maybe covering their blindside with a pistol.

Orders were soon given out by Lok and he and his clansmen moved as a symphony. The four missiles from the jetpacks of the Munin soldiers fired at the ceiling above Gorba in hopes of the duracrete of the ceiling fall above him. Then concussion grenades and thermal detonators were thrown at the Ganks with suppressing fire from blaster pistols concentrating on them. And for the Bounty Hunter Lok would activate his jetpack and fire his wrist rocket at the Fett. The young Munin would fly towards the Bounty Hunter to engage him while firing slugs at him from his Czerka assault rifle in case he decided to peak out and continue his assault.

"If things go south, just retreat. I'll take care of this wannabe Mando. Take out the rest of the Ganks. Make sure one exit isn't blocked off," he said in the encrypted comm link that the Munins shared with.

[member="Koda Fett"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"]

 

[Evoros]

"So danger," Yvonne decided. "Neat."

And with that she was off.

She had the location scribed somewhere in her mind, filed away with everything else she hadn't filtered out as needless; it was so perfectly easy to find her way from there. Easier still that she was by herself. Yvonne did not dislike people. She was opposed to the concept of working in a team. But working with others - less experienced, less intelligent others - was so dreadfully boring. Fewer people meant you were lighter on your feet.

In her experience, you were only as strong as your weakest link. Evoros preferred to be the only link.

_______​

​

BAREESH PLEASURE PALACE

Right away she knew that something was wrong.

Evoros was heavily opposed to relying on instinct, but she was a hunter. Hers were finely tuned. And they said she would do well to be careful. Cybernetic fingers flexed open and shut and open and shut. Then she made her way into the building.
As soon as she did, she knew why.

She could pick out the sounds of all sorts of gunfire almost at once. The sound of something messy happening. So she followed the sound, until she found the place and caught sight of - oh, the bastard.

Yvonne stood against the wall, organic digits pinching the bridge of her nose. Next time, Farr was giving her a one-man mission.

But deranged and suicidal or not, she was supposed to be backing this fool. Metal the color of flesh curled around her blaster, and slipped into the chamber with a scowl.

"Lok, honey," she called over the sound of a dozen things crashing, cocking the rifle as she caught up with the Mandalorian, "did you not catch the part of the plan that said talk to them?"

Then he flew after a bounty hunter and four missiles hit the ceiling above a Hutt.
"Feth."

[member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"]​

 

[Lemon]

The sounds of deathly-grunting in combination with the lack of returning fire indicated to Fett that this battle was a losing one, and there was no chance that he would stick around and meet his demise by guarding an over sized worm. He stuck by his position but only for the moment as he assessed the situation, and once that ceiling had caved in he saw an opportunity. A way out.

Although the young Mandalorian who launched himself towards Koda made things slightly difficult. As the concussion missile came towards the balcony esque platform, Fett launched upwards and to the center of the room in order to evade it. All the while, he fired a Whipcord out of his gauntlet towards Munin with the hopes of immobilizing him for a short time.

He had exited through the hole in the ceiling, escaping into the city above. If he were successful in tying up Munin, and then he had come out in an attempt to find him - it would be near impossible to determine where he had gone. Otherwise he'd be ascending into a higher level of the city planet.

[member=Lok Munin]

 

[Darth Imperia]

818-K didn't know much about Ganks. She didn't know their culture, their religion, their social norms - but she did know a few things.

As a race, the Ganks were almost always host to extensive cybernetic modification, all of which was combat-oriented; they often organized into packs of two to five, and it was incredibly rare for one to be found alone; and they had a penchant for violence that would make even 818 herself blush, assuming her blood flow wasn't carefully regulated by a neural implant.

The cyborg calmly strode alongside [member="Janeth Farr"], silent save for a cheery tune that she had been humming sporadically. She would've preferred to be making conversation or cracking jokes with her Mandalorian companion, but she needed to concentrate. They had a new member of the team, and 818 needed to start building a file on him. Approximately one-hundred-eighty meters tall and ninety-one kilograms in weight, the agent known as [member="Malen"] appeared to be in good physical condition, and he hadn't displayed any signs of debilitating or dangerous psychoses so far. He appeared to be human or near-human, but she'd need a genetic sample to confirm or deny that - but there'd be plenty of time to ask for that later.

Or to gather the sample in an infirmary, should things go a bit pear-shaped.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Bareesh Pleasure Palace on Nar Shaddaa

Missiles collided with the ceiling and a slew of rubble collapsed on top of the Hutt, or would have but for the personal shield. The rubble slid off the half-dome of incandescent energy, which flickered slightly at the strain on the battery. Gorba's eye was now wide and enraged. He slapped aside the hookah stand, tossing the bowl to the floor, where it shattered.

<Blastoh. Now!> He shouted at a nearby attendant, who also stood safely underneath the shield.

More retainers continued to flood into the room. The palace was heavily guarded, but also fairly large. If they'd all been there at once they might've crushed the Mandalorians beneath their numbers. Instead, they merely proved a troublesome nuisance for the armored Mandalorians. Like bugs. Gorba continued to mutter a string of curses while the attendant dragged a case out from a hidden compartment in the dais.

The Ganks fared better, Keeta at their head. The pack leader grinned wickedly beneath his helmet as an acid round caught a Mandalorian in the unprotected neck and blew out the other side in a spray of scarlet. Another Mandalorian reached for his belt, fingers fumbling for a grenade.

Wait.

The Mando thumbed the activation panel. Keeta fired. The slug took the Mandalorian in the wrist, acid searing through clothing, flesh, and nerves. The grenade clattered from his unfeeling fingers. The stunned Mandalorian looked down at the blinking light.

"Fe-"

He and several of his fellow vod disappeared in a blinding white-hot flash of fusion. The explosion of the thermal detonator rocked the room, shaking dust from whatever was left of the ceiling and ripped apart the floor, exposing the lower level.

The cybernetically enhanced contract killers employed by Gorba looked to be every bit the match for the Mandalorians. If only a match. Gorba did not find this encouraging. The attendant kneeled, offering him a strange-looking gun from the case. Gorba rolled his one good eye. He pressed a button, dropping the shield.

<Give me that.> Seizing the weapon in both hands, Gorba took aim at the leader of the Mandalorians, who flew around the room wearing that ridiculous jetpack, and fired.

An electrical stun net exploded from the muzzle and expanded straight for [member="Lok Munin"]. The Trandoshan who sold him the thing guarenteed it was "Wookiee rated" and would knock anything the kark out, armor or no.

It was precisely at this moment that a turbolift door chimed in the hallway outside the throne room doors. The lift's door slid open and out floated the largest Hutt imaginable. Only it wasn't a Hutt, not precisely. It wore a set of repulsorlift armor complete with helmet. A rotary cannon mounted on one shoulder and a therm axe in his hand. He floated toward the commotion until he came to a stop next to a slender human. [member="Evoros"].

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Nagoon, the Shell Hutt of Circumtore, to this gaping female.

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

​

​

Nar Shaddaa - Lower Industrial Sector*​

​

[member="Arian Lenar"]​

​

Kalak breathed in the foul air and hummed in contentment.

Nar Shaddaa was his kind of place- dirt, grime, the air smelled of ashes and just the undertone of... zinc. It was no coincidence that the Raykkans had thrived here for years and would presumably keep thriving here for years to come. They were the treasurers, bankers, the legitimate-illegitimate businessmen that kept the industrial zones afloat and the lights running. When most on the moon only cared about wide-spread murder, peddling of drugs and other nonsense... the Raykkans kept the water drinkable, the air breathable and the streets relatively clean of garbage.

There was nothing sexy about taking care of the garbage.

But someone needed to do it and more often than not there was a Raykkan involved. "We have been trying to get control of the Lower Industrial Zone's water filtering facilities for years now." Kalak confided in his two bodyguards.

One was a newcomer, Arian, apparently a good shot and a better pilot.

Maybe.

The other one was Pike.

A merc he had hired a couple of months ago and who was getting good results done. She was a maniac, of course, but sometimes you needed an explosion or two if you wanted to get the job done. If there was one thing that Pike did? It was the job at hand.

​

"What kept you from taking control earlier?"​

​

Kalak snorted, before stepping out of the transport ship. It had landed them on one of the landing pads nearby their destination - Purify Node 3. One of the main hubs that controlled the flow and purification filters of the zone's water supply.

"Can't solve everything with an explosion, Pike."

"Maybe you haven't tried hard enough."​

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

It wasn't too long ago that Arian helped another driven man in his pursuit of attaining even greater wealth. At least this time he was hired as a bodyguard, and not to help fake a man's death and delivery the body as proof of bounty... Though it did earn him a cool mil in the process.

The gunslinger stood beside Kalak the whole time with a foot back. Never standing truly at his side, and not once daring to inch a foot in front of his gait either. He kept his mouth shut and a steady hand ready to draw his blaster in the event he needed to. Unlike Pike, a woman he knew little of, Lenar preferred the subtle approach over the violent one. He was never the man to lift a finger if he didn't need to, and always kept his mind fixed on what he was doing rather than where he was going.

It wasn't until his employer spoke up, confiding in the two of them, that Arian took the opportunity to speak up as well.

"If you want to catch a big fish, it's not the size of the hook that matters so much as the quality of the bait." He returned.

Anyone with the resources could use force of arms to dictate terms and bully their way into a position of power, but it never lasts. True power and control is gained by making yourself indispensable. If people see you as a necessary factor then they will make accommodations to ensure that you remain. If they hate you? Well, if they hate you then you can be sure they'll try to remove you at the first opportunity they get.

[member="Kalak the Raykkan"]

 

[Malen]

Malen then moved, getting on his speeder. He made sure his datapad was close to him, his cybernetics allowing him to adding his own input to his datapad as he already began on writing an exploit. Hacking cybernetic armor, and implants wasn't something he was used to. Malen however, didn't mind the challenge, and he had not yet met a system that he hadn't successfully compromised.

One thing that he regretted though was the fact that he didn't bring any armor. Even if he was arguably safe due to his force sensitivity, he was already concentrating on one task, and he never multi-tasked when it came to using the force unless absolutely necessary. A part of him hated relying on people, but he hoped that the people he was working with could be able to protect him, and vice-versa.

As they continued descending to wherever they were going, he continued working on his exploit, increasing his speed so he could get there as quick as possible.

[member="Sanguinaria"] / [member="Janeth Farr"]

 

[Arekk]

NAR SHADDAA​

Bareesh Kajidic Pleasure Palaces​

​

The home planet of smugglers, hitmen, bounty hunters and mercenaries. A city that became a criminal haven and gained its reputation for being the center of illegal operations of the galaxy. Regardless, Nar Shaddaa remains as the most important trading center in Hutt Space, bringing a massive amount of financial aid to the many different moons of Nal Hutta.

The Ebon Hawk required some urgent repairs to make her a reliable freighter once again although it would be vastly different as she was no longer in her prime like a thousand years ago since a dark lord claimed her property. Fast forward to the present day, Ar'ekk is now the rightful owner of this beautiful yet ancient ship, taking it from The Exchange's grasp after a lethal ambush in the Jekk'Jekk Tar right here on Nar Shaddaa.

The young Jedi had heard of the Bareesh Kajidic Pleasure Palace, a hotspot in the heart of the city that could provide the ultimate technology and parts needed for the Ebon Hawk. Keeping in mind his last brush with death, he would have to be extremely careful to avoid being recognized by the criminals he had faced a few months ago during the previously mentioned encounter.

Gunfire. As soon as he entered the Palace, Ar'ekk knew something was very wrong. The loud sounds of detonations and screams were a constant reminder in the Jedi's mind, specific sounds that would never leave his head. War had torn him apart, he had to help whoever was up there so he rushed to the elevator and went towards the source of the fight. Upon arrival, several individuals that resembled obvious Mandalorians flying around in their signature jetpacks and a Hutt in trouble was the first thing his eyes laid upon. His attempt to remain undercover was no longer viable as he drew his lightsaber and ignited it, the blue plasma beaming so brightly it practically made the young Jedi a sitting duck.

"If you want to live, you better put those guns down." he said, pointing at the Mandalorian squad hiding behind a broken table as he sent a Force shockwave their way in an attempt to rock them off their feet.

A definitive good fight was sure about to occur. A Jedi, a Mandalorian death squad, a bounty hunter and a troubled Hutt.

Could things go any worse?

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Lok Munin"]

 

[Janeth Farr]

Janeth managed to remove the tracking system easily enough. Though that was the extent of her technical expertise, which may have suggested she was something of an expert like Malen if they hadn't known otherwise. Still she had what she needed to get the job done.

"Hop in," she waited for Sanguinaria to do so.

Once the two were secured in the vehicle they went along their path with Malen riding separately in his own speeder. They descended throughout the various streets and sub levels of Nar Shaddaa, moving deeper into cartel territory and finally found one of the countless entrances into the undercity. a Thick plume of smog rose up into the air, polluting the atmosphere of the Smuggler's Moon.

With a destination in mind it didn't take them too long to reach the general vicinity of where the Gank Killers commonly gathered. Various packs and clans could be found in this concentrated area, but where they were headed was far more dangerous. Recently rumour spread of a gathering; several Gank clans coming together for 'something big.' Whatever it was, it caught the Board's interest and thus the Collective went into play.

As technophiles, there was something to appreciate about the Ganks. They knew how to turn innovation into their greatest method. Weapons, armour, tools, and even vehicles for their use. They could compete head on with the likes of Echani and Mandalorians, two warrior cultures that relied on their raw strength more than they did their technical expertise. Nonetheless, Janeth didn't really care much about that.

She pulled the speeder into a relatively quiet area near a Pazaak den. Then turned off the engine and stepped out of the airspeeder, moving her head in both directions to check her immediate surroundings.

"Well. This is it." She waited for Malen to join them.

[member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Jest de Rous"] | [member="Hazel Zanteres"] | [member="Antherion"]

 

[Lemon]

He soared through the skies above the palace, it looked as if he was about to leave the blaster fire and explosions behind him, but he wasn't that kind of man, no. A contract was at stake and with that his reputation - something that meant more to him than anything else in this galaxy. At least it is now that his prior responsibilities had left him. He turned in the air, his jetpack still active as he hovered for a brief moment. The neon lights illuminating him and reflecting upon his black visor. For the most part - he was entirely in the darkness.

He descended at an intense speed, and it seemed that he was falling more than flying. The olive side-cape on his side looked as if it were attached to a jet engine that was on full blast as he made his way back to the palace. As he touched down, he readied his weapons and made a methodical approach back inside. Keeping a keen eye on his scanners, trackers and anything else that would allow him to keep track of where the enemy was.

The Mandalorian, now considered dar'manda caught glimpse of a Jedi's Lightsaber igniting from the Throne Room. "Jedi..." He murmered to himself, angrily, as if he had some kind of personal vendetta against them. His blaster carbine at half-mast, slowly he walked, the spurs of his boots inaudible over the sound of blaster fire, agonising deathly sounds and other such commotion.

@Ar'ekk

 

[Kellyn Muir]

Jest continued walking, just another body in the crowd. Though it seemed he was walking just to get away, he knew exactly where he was going. His MO was somewhat inane, almost illogical to others, but there was a method to the madness. It wasn't likely anyone would understand it, but they didn't need to understand it. It just needed to work. And there was their site for their side of the operation.

The Chunk-Bo Holonet Cafe. Though Nar Shaddaa was generally lawless and rather chaotic, there were still enough cool-headed people to offer amenities so there was at least some semblance of a functioning society. Breaking from the crowd, he entered. There was an open terminal in the back of the cafe, to which he approached and sat. There was another beside him, which Hazel could sit at even if only to provide the illusion she was active on the terminal.

Typing away on the keyboard, Jest hacked into the terminal's code and gave himself administrator permissions before placing his holopad on the desk. A few clicks later, and a new program streaming seemingly meaningless letters and numbers on the screen. After about two minutes, another program loaded. Real time feeds of several cameras overlooking the bustling streets appeared, as well as some others of less crowded areas. Now they could actively monitor the whereabouts of their collective and their destination. Thank the maker for private security systems.

"We have access to the cameras. Give me a little bit for the security grid."

[member="Hazel Zanteres"] | [member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Malen"]​

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

​

"Why use a hook? Just run electricity through the lake and collect all the fish you might want."​

​

Pike shrugged as an additional punctuation of her solution. It seemed pretty obvious to her, why people always needed to make things more complicated than they really were was beyond her. Not that she ever went fishing or anything, but that was beyond the question really. Instead her hobbies were of the more explosive kind. For instance this water job. Sure, they could just walk in and negotiate with the current overseer....​

​

A Rodian? No, a Bith. Name of Figgins, last name unknown.​

​

He had been keeping Node 3 up and running for the past decade. But times were changing and recently his patrons, a local off-shoot of the Blood Hawks had gotten themselves killed in a rivalry with another gang. That meant no protection- that meant that anyone with enough firepower could just do whatever the kark they wanted.​

​

"Nah, Arian's right here. If we start pushing around every little guy from here to there? We only gonna get 'em to close their ranks before we can get our foot between the door." Sometimes you just needed to take the path of the least resistance, even if every instinct in his body was screaming for a different kind of solution.

That was the Raykkan way.

Grow like mold, grow, grow, grow, until you are squeezed into things tightly and seen as indispensable.

Then things change. "Keep your eyes open, friends, old Figgs might give us a surprise."

[member="Arian Lenar"]

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

It wasn't until the Couriers recruited him that Arian became so cautious. Before then he was reckless, perhaps more akin to Pike though far less enthusiastic about it. His time with the Republic Navy nurtured hatred for war and soldiers alike. He killed his fair share after his service came to a draw, and he still doesn't regret a single body he left. Why blame yourself for the foolishness of empires?

Now in the employment of Kalak he had began to subject himself to a new experience. The Raykkans were an interesting species, and one which he found himself both fascinated and concerned with.

"Do you really think he'd ambush you right in the open?" Arian had to ask.

He wasn't as familiar with Nar Shaddaa, truthfully, as one might believe him to be. He did his fair share of deliveries but avoided the shadier areas as best he could. Which sounds like a joke considering what Nar Shaddaa represented, but there were plenty of sectors under the control of mostly legitimate governments. That didn't mean the crime bosses didn't have their fair share of influence, however.

What he meant by asking is that he didn't believe it was a wise move to attack someone openly in your own territory. Gangs want to be seen as protectors, not instigators. Tact was a big part of that, and if he was in their shoes he would extort the Raykkan instead of trying to kill him.