Ask Elevation

[Cipher 7]

Sev Garris sat back in the opulent chair he’d been offered. A thin tendril of smoke leaked from the cigarra pressed between his lips as his heavily lidded baby blues scanned the seemingly empty room. He’d been summoned by the one and only Nor’baal Desilijic Fa'athra. The very target he’d been sent to investigate or eliminate months ago.

The road to this very spot had been riddled with danger. Jacen had earned Peef’s respect before his disappearance and without the Rodian around to act as The Cartels lethal enforcer the opportunity to get in close with the Supreme Mongol had never been greater. So, when he got the call, he wasn’t surprised in the least. Whether they wanted to offer him a job or kill him, well, that still remained to be seen.

A hiss from behind told him someone had entered through the door he’d been escorted through. Seven resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. Any sign of weakness or worry could tip the scales against him and the last thing he needed was to be on uneven ground with one of the most powerful and cunning villains in the galaxy.

Sev took a pull on his cigarra and blew out a plume of smoke.

“So, this thing is getting started soon, or do I need to start charging by the hour?”

The sound of footsteps approaching told him he wasn’t speaking to the Big boss, which meant the being coming up behind was either a servant or that slimy scuzz rat of a majordomo, didn't matter either way, Seven had a part to play and he knew the role well.

@Nor'baal

 

[The Storyteller]

Through a tiny window designed to enable discreet observation of 'guests' in the antechamber, Sleeth Vanar watched 'Sev Garris'. He had no doubt it was a pseudonym. Many people in that man's line of work used them; even Sleeth's name was one - his birth name long since consigned to memory.

Serving as Majordomo of this residence, one of a collection of ten attendants to the Supreme Mogul, Sleeth held a considerable degree of power. He controlled communications in and out of the palace, grandad and declined audiences with his master, and met with those his master 'designed not to see in person'.

And that had become more commonplace of late.

Since his master's 'seclusion'. Shrouded in secrecy, the 'Supreme Mogul' had not left the upper chambers of the palace in weeks. Rumours abound that he was unwell, more serious ones that he had passed away. Some suggested he was merely engaged in debauched parties.

Sleeth never commented.

Such speculation was treason, after all.

Yet the truth was known to him, enabling him to expand his power and reach new heights. He closed the observation slot and moved into the room properly.

A tall member of the Twi'lek species with pale greenish skin, he was dressed in a robe of dark blue and a simple chromium chain of office. He walked up to Sev and proferred a slight bow reserved for guests to his Lords Palace.

"Master Garris, my Master is pleased you have attended at his pleasure." he snivelled "But extends his apologies that he is unable to attend in person, for he is -" he rose from the bow "indesposed."

Sleeth smiled at the man.

Behind him, two other attendants in his 'clique' entered the room and bowed. They could be ignored, minor functionaries at Nor'baal's behest, who passed often without notice.

"I hope you had a pleasant journey here, to the Hutt Core?" he asked, uninterested in the answer. "Tell me, are you still looking for work?"

 

[Cipher 7]

Seven didn’t move as the newcomer approached. Once he could see who he was talking to, he followed the appropriate protocol. He put his cigarra out on his boot and stood, bowing with as much reverence as Jacen could possibly muster, which… was basically little more than a curt nod. He listened to the majordomo’s practiced speech and replied with the same facade.

Jacen was acutely aware of the games the Hutt’s played. He could piece together that the Supreme Mogul’s “Seclusion” had come at about the same time as Altire Din’s declaration. It was smart. Sow deceit, create chaos, clean up after. Nor’Baal had proven to be a far more capable leader than anyone had expected and his relationship with Peef and the Zaa Fenn had been the true testament of The Hutt’s guile.

So, when the Majordomo spoke, Sev knew he had to treat it like it was coming right from Daddy slug’s slimy lips.

“It’s an honor to have been invited, I’d never dane to expect one as great as the mighty Nor'baal Desilijic Fa'athra to lower himself and meet a hired gun like myself.”

Neither of them ment a word of what they said. It was the required script, and he knew how to play the sniveling supplicant, he was a member of the Empire after all. Seven smiled as Sleeth asked about his trip here. Jacen knew each word that fell from the Twi’lek’s mouth dripped with contempt, and he loved it.

In response he nodded, “Smooth sailing.”

Then Sleeth got to the meat of it.

“I’m in the market. My last gang fell apart when our mutual friend retired,” Sev’s gaze flicked to the other two attendants. Two at his back and one straight ahead. Bad odds. He couldn’t be sure if the other two attendants were armed, but he knew he was and that meant they were as far as he was concerned.

Both of his blaster’s hung on his hips, and he had more than one knife hidden on his person. He rested his hands in front of himself on his belt, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Maybe this would be funner than he’d hoped?

@Nor'baal

 

[The Storyteller]

Clasping his hands in front of him, the Majordomo eyed the man up and down as if trying to discern a little more about his character. He carried himself well, Jacen, and followed the complex protocol of the Hutt clans almost to the letter. Clearly, the rumours of his long-standing involvement with allies of the Clan had not been exaggerated.

"Indeed." he sneered.

Since the disappearance of Preef Callo, many of his former compatriots had been in the market for work. Talented gunslingers had seemed to gravitate to the man like mynocks to a dung pile. Valuable resources to be used and exploited for his own gain and the gain of his master - of course.

Recently, the Supreme Ones' eldest child, the petulant Arok, had acquired a strip of industrialised land on the Hutt home planet of Nal Hutta. He had designs on developing it into a large munitions plant, in which ore mines by slave labour in the far reaches of Hutt space were converted into valuable weapons and sold at a titanic markup.

It would bring wealth to the Clan, and the humble Majordomo sought only to assist his master in this effort.

"Then you are in luck." he began with deliberate ease "There is a contract that may suit your skills, tell me, do you have others in your party upon whom you can rely?" he asked, for this job, which would see Jacen taking out the board of a local rival munitions firm, would need many hands.

 

[Cipher 7]

Gev Sarris watched the Majordomo closely. His smile spread into a cocky grin, “I do.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. Once Peef left, the bulk of the gang dispersed after a few bloody shootouts. Of course, there wouldn’t have been a Tatooine sunset on the story if it hadn’t ended in red. Those that were left went back to freelance, and Sev had a pretty good relationship with most of them, well some of them… Okay, there were two he was pretty sure wouldn’t kill him on sight. But hey, that was better than most hired guns could say.

“I’m aware this opportunity is as much a test as it is a job, I’m open to working with anyone you choose, or getting my own crew together,” he said with a shrug.

It didn’t matter to Sev. Anyone that got in his way on this would be killed, he’d come too far to blow this opportunity.

@Nor'baal

 

[The Storyteller]

If he was prepared to work with a crew, then this young man was ideal for the sort of tasks he had in mind. Plus, his clear stench of desperation was something to be abused, and heartily so. Lower payments could be offered, and more risky jobs could be issued. The man was expendable but did not need to believe he was.

"Excellent. There are a number of rival organisations on this world that my master requires you to take care of. They are well entrenched in a wide expanse of slums near Jiguuna." he produced a holoprojector and showed a map of the region he had in mind. It was a large region, a densely populated slum occupied by tens of thousands of people.

There would be no way of distinguishing between gangers and locals.

As far as the Majordomo was concerned they may as well be the same thing. "We require the gang cleared out from here, with extreme haste. Tell me, what would you suggest?"

 

[Cipher 7]

Jacen could sense that the game was afoot. There was an eager glean in the Majordomo’s eye, one akin to the look a cat gives a mouse before pouncing. Seven’s smile never wavered as the iridescent light flitted across his face. His heavy lidded eyes examined the map as it ran through it’s paces. Jacen’s gaze never lifted from the projector as the Sleeth gave the rundown.

Seven couldn’t help but notice the similarities between this potential job and the one he’d run with Peef to get accepted into the gang. Back then it had only taken the Legendary Gunslinger and Seven to shut down an entire Black Sun sect on Tatooine. So, the real question Jacen had to ask was how much of their victory had depended on Peef? No… the real question was, who was he doing this job for?

“Small hit squad, I'm talking a crew of killers looking to do dark work. No more than four, three vets would be ideal, and one of them would need to be a pilot…” he let his voice trail off as if considering something, then added, “Is there anything else we need done in this job? Any rival to incriminate? If we’re gonna stomp out our own we might as well have a patsy to fall back on.”

@Nor'baal