Private The Price of Knowledge

[Amelia Zin]

Outfit: Link
Equipment: PL-18 Standard Issue Blaster Pistol "Freedom"
Tag: Valery Noble


The sickly neon glow of Sleheyron's underbelly flickered against the oil-slicked streets, casting jagged shadows between rusted starship husks and the towering industrial spires that belched smoke into the thick, acrid air. The city pulsed with wretched life, a symphony of voices, the hum of speeders weaving through narrow alleys, and the ever-present thrum of distant machinery that never slept.

Amelia hated all of it.

She shuffled through the high street's chaos, her blaster holstered, hidden, but never out of reach. She was never one to slink, detested having to sneak around like a shadow. Give her a rifle, let her blast a sucker in the face, get paid and bugger off. Good stuff.

But all this covert nonsense? Ugh.

But she couldn't ignore this job. It wasn't just about the credits this time. It was something she knew she had to do, even though what she came here to do would most likely put a bounty — another one — on her head, if the wrong people caught wind of it. Unfortunately, that was something she was starting to become accustomed to.

At least she had the Wildfire and the gang on standby, in case anything went especially awry. The prospect that it would was quite likely, but intimidating nonetheless. She wouldn't be equipped for it if it all went to shit, but that might have to be her only option when push came to shove.

The air inside Nadi's was thick with the scent of cheap liquor, engine grease, and the unmistakable musk of desperation. A den of outlaws, mercs and syndicate thugs, the bar was a perfect place to trade credits for information... if you knew how to play the game. Amelia stepped through the threshold, boots clicking against the stained durasteel floor as conversations dipped just enough to mark her arrival.

She kept her posture relaxed, but her sharp gaze flicked between the booths and shadowed corners, searching. Somewhere in this pit of lowlifes and backstabbers was the one she was looking for; a GA agent she was tasked to meet with. Why she was rubbing shoulders with covert Alliance agents here, she wasn't sure, but the fact this was personal for Amelia too made it impossible to pass on.

She wasn't really sure what to expect from this agent. A name, a location, a whisper of where the bounty hunters were keeping Rex. Perhaps a full on collaboration. She just had to make sure she didn't get knifed in the back before they found each other. This place was rough.

Striding to the bar, she nestled herself onto one of the stools, emerald eyes scanning the area.

"Brandy." Her voice was low, measured, quite unlike her usual tone, but this wasn't really the place to unleash her usual boisterous self.

A slow exhale escaped her as she rolled the expected code she was to repeat over in her mind, the undeniable weight of the night hanging over her. Whatever was waiting for her in the hours to come... It probably wasn't going to end pretty.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Smuggler Outfit
Weapons: Blasters

The air in Nadi's was thick with smoke and the kind of tension that settled into places like this — the kind that made people glance over their shoulders, fingers hovering too close to their blasters. It wasn't the worst dive Valery had been in, but it certainly wasn't on her list of favorites, either.

Still, she sat, one arm draped casually over the back of her booth, the other wrapped around a half-empty glass. She swirled the drink absently, watching as the amber liquid caught the dim light. She hadn't taken more than a sip.

Her focus was elsewhere.

Orange eyes flicked toward the entrance the moment Amelia stepped inside. She didn't need to hear the murmurs, the way conversations stuttered ever so slightly to know this woman didn't blend in. She carried herself with an ease that only seasoned mercenaries and bounty hunters had — comfortable in the chaos, even if she didn't like it.

That was her contact.

Valery didn't move, didn't wave her over or make any grand signal. Instead, she simply lifted her glass, taking a slow sip as she watched Amelia order her drink. A test, perhaps, to see if she'd spot her first. To see if she'd move with the kind of awareness required for a place like this.

Or maybe, Valery just liked to watch.

Either way, she waited, patient and still. Because once their eyes met, this job would begin.

Amelia Zin ​

 

[Amelia Zin]

Outfit: Link
Equipment: PL-18 Standard Issue Blaster Pistol "Freedom"
Tag: Valery Noble


The brandy was terrible. Constant access to Aleister's special Chandrilan reserves on the Wildfire had clearly spoilt her taste, or perhaps improved it. But it didn't matter, she wasn't here to have a good time.

She had a job to do.

Downing the rest of the drink in a single motion, Amelia felt the inferior liquor burn as it moved down her throat, nevertheless settling as a soft warmth through her chest and to her stomach. It wasn't quite enough to take the edge off yet, but it had to do. For the sake of appearances at least, she wrapped her knuckles along the bar, signalling for another, then let her emerald eyes scan quietly across the room again.

Too many seedy characters. Too many unreadable faces. Too many risks. She could feel eyes pressing on her.

But then it caught her eye. Half-veiled behind that permanent haze of smoke that clung to the air, two smouldering embers gazed out amidst the shadows that stretched across her booth, directly at her. There was no emotion, no indication, no signal. But an unspoken knowing flickered, filling the distance between them.

Amelia wasn't stupid. She wasn't just going to move right away and proclaim herself in front of everyone. Instead, she slowly slinked along the room, moving like she was entirely insignificant within the growing rabble. She ignored the eyes that did watch her. Acknowledging them here now would only lead to unnecessary drama.

"Uh— 'The weather on Onderon is nice this time of year.'"

What a lame pass code.

She slid effortlessly into the booth, placing her drink on the table, and gazed at the woman, gauging what she all about. Those scars were something alright, but as to her demeanour— impossible to read, just as she should have expected. An odd silence hung between them for a moment as emerald met citrine, hanging in a gaze of mutual measurement and decisiveness. A quip in her usual tone broke the silence; her usual attempt to deflect that unspoken, uncomfortable tension.

"Think you could've worn a tighter shirt?"

Shaking her head slightly – loose auburn locks shifting in gentle waves – she reached into her jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She hated the things — supposed to have quit — but unfortunately had found herself resorting more and more to them in recent months. Tapping out one and pulling it out with her lips, she offered the pack to the woman sat opposite her, before sparking up her own and taking a long, slow drag.

Awful.

"Amelia... Should I be using a code name?" She paused for a moment. "Special Agent Gingersnap, at your service."

She knew it wasn't the time, but nevertheless a signature facetious grin tugged at her lips.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Smuggler Outfit
Weapons: Blasters

Valery's smirk was subtle, but unmistakable as Amelia slid into the booth, wasting no time with pleasantries. The Onderon passcode was laughable, but it was the next comment that made the Jedi's lips curve just slightly, her amusement flickering like a spark behind her fiery gaze.

Golden eyes flicked down, just briefly before meeting Amelia's again, unbothered and unreadable. "Probably," she murmured, swirling the glass between her fingers, her voice dry but edged with something teasing, "But where's the fun in that?"

Humor was armor, a way to disarm tension and mask real thoughts behind the curve of a smirk. Valery knew the game well enough. She'd seen it in spies, in soldiers, in those who'd spent too long moving through the galaxy's shadows. She didn't comment on it. Not yet.

When Amelia extended the pack of cigarettes, Valery didn't even glance at it before shaking her head. "Not my thing." The rejection was smooth, easy, before she took another slow sip of her drink, eyes never leaving her. Then Amelia gave her name. And her ridiculous codename.

Valery arched a brow but let out a quiet huff of amusement, placing her glass down on the table. "Just Valery," she said simply, tilting her head slightly. "Unless you'd rather me call you that." Her smirk deepened just enough to make it unclear whether she was being serious.

She let the silence settle for a beat, letting Amelia take that first drag, letting the noise of the cantina hum around them. But eventually, she leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the table, her voice lowering just enough to keep prying ears at bay.

"You have the details?" The lightness from earlier faded just a little, sharpened into something more focused. "Tell me what you know."

Amelia Zin ​