Job Interview

[Hask Jen]

Nar Shaddaa/Lusty Lekku
16:43 local time​

Nar Shaddaa. The one place a sith should never venture to, unless they had a death wish. Hask started questioning his sanity as he walked through the streets. With his armour, helmet and poncho covering up every bit of his body, no one would suspect of him being a sith. Both his pistols and lightsabers were completely covered by the poncho so odds of someone identifying him were again very slim.

While he would try to stay away from the planet under normal circumstances, this would most certainly count as an exception. He was on his way to meet the new leader of the Exchange.

He had hoped that business could be conducted with Nor'baal the Hutt, but sadly he had to accept that this would not be the case. But from the sound of it this new boss could potentially be a more than suitable replacement for the deceased Hutt.

He kept his head down as he passed two Beskar-clad Mandalorians on the street, finally reaching his destination

The Lusty Lekku

Dozens of stories surrounded this place. Stories...and lives, including the life of his friend and comrade. Crusader Sabrina Kotass.

And that is why he was here. To prevent himself from following down that same path. Getting recruited into their ranks would not only open new doors for him, but ensure that he could escape the Empire's scrutiny and go about his business in peace.

He entered the club, slightly overwhelmed and intrigued by the atmosphere, lights and music. Definitely a nice change of pace from the dreadful watering hole on Korriban.

After asking the bouncer for directions, he made his way through the club, scooting and moving past patrons and dancers until he found the door to a private room in the back. He pressed the buzzer and awaited a reply, hoping he had the right door...

@vamp

 

[Darth Parox]

Milo—no, Olin—sat in the private room he'd rented out in the Lusty Lekku, his brand new armor having earned no sideways glances from anyone—good. To all those concerned, he was just an average spacer, here to relax after a hard day's work. Almost comical.

He was sitting in a rather shabby room—a rusty table between two chairs, with a barely flickering light bulb hanging on for dear life above. The Lusty Lekku had done a good job recovering from the previous attack on it by Sector Rangers, though it appeared they'd been forced to cut corners. Milo couldn't help but feel slightly amused at how things had changed in the past few months. Last time he'd visited this establishment, he'd been nothing more than an Acolyte, trying to claw his way up the ranks and into the criminal world at the same time. Now, his enemies—and friends, sadly—were dead, and he the lone surviver, leader of the Exchange. A pang of sadness coursed through him for a moment, remembering Nor'baal's presence here those months ago, but was quickly shoved away, replaced with the cold pride he now felt. He was not just the CEO of the Exchange; he was also a Sith Crusader with a direct line to the Emperor and a frigate at his disposal. He'd been forced to make sacrifices, but those sacrifices had paid off.

Today marked the first in many days he would have to dedicate to the Exchange. It seemed Caitlin—and Nor'baal after her—had the habit of personally vetting out new members. Milo, having seen no problem with that, decided to keep the tradition going, at least for now. A buzzer snapping him out of his thoughts, he pressed a button on a remote at his side and the doors slid open.

A Sith Pureblood stood before him, to his surprise, and Milo silently couldn't help but thank the Force—he'd thought ahead, and had masked his Force sensitivity ahead of time. The only thing the man would see sitting before him was Olin Tisbar—nameless helmet, not Force sensitive in the least. That was what he would show to the world.

"Hask Jen," he greeted, hands on the table. "Come right in."

@KinkyPrawn

 

[Hask Jen]

Hask might not have been able to sense the man's presence, but his eyes were working fine. There, behind a desk, sat the crusader Milo Drast, going by the name of Olin Tisbar. He tried to brush the thoughts aside, but if what he heard about this sith were true he would have already went through the pureblood's head.

He decided to go along with the game, curious to see what would come of it. "Thank you for having me, mister Tisbar." he said calmly and formally.

He closed the door behind him and made sure they were truly alone. After removing his helmet and dropping his hood he took a seat by the desk. "If you don't mind, I'd like for us to just get down to brass tacks. This place isn't exactly friendly to people like me." a chuckle escaped the sith as he spoke. "I want to join your business, and get away from the empire. Working for the Exchange is my best chance of getting away from it and I'm willing to wager your business most certainly has some use for an... interesting individual such as myself." his golden eyes focused on the man before him, the light slightly making them glow in the dimly lit room.

"Wow, very subtle. Just spill every little secret about yourself you stupid idiot." The thought jumped into his head as he gave himself a mental kick to the backside

He was taking a gamble and his hopes of escaping the Empire were fading by the second. The Hutt had no allegiance to the Empire, so working with him would be a breeze, but once again a Sith stood at the helm of the Exchange. Trying to predict the outcome of this talk is basically impossible.

But this confusion and worry would definitely not be shown by the pureblood as he closed himself off and kept a straight face to hide his feelings from the crusader. No one was getting into his head without a fight tonight.

@vamp

 

[Darth Parox]

Interesting. Many Sith liked to work with the Exchange while doing their main job—being Sith, of course—but this man was ready to completely renounce the pledge he made. He was deserting, essentially, and while Milo could not help but sneer under his helmet, he nodded. "Weird bunch, those wizards," he remarked, echoing the thoughts of likely most of the Galaxy. "Wizards" was a term that constantly irked him, but he supposed there was some truth to the stereotype. "I don't blame you for wanting to leave." But he did.

Milo was speaking with a distinct Outer Rim accent—Tatooine, perhaps, or one of the planets near it—his speech drastically different from the way he normally talked. While he would normally have the sophisticated tone of a noble from Serenno, now he merely sounded like a spacer that had just gotten off his freighter for the first time in months to deliver spice to nearby warehouses. He was so in character he was surprising himself. "Tell me, Hask: can you hold and fire a blaster?" Simplistic question coming from a simplistic man—Milo was intelligent, cunning, and sometimes brutal; Olin was a bit stupid, single-minded, and rather nice when it came down to it. Polar opposites.

@KinkyPrawn

 

[Hask Jen]

It was definitely taking some effort to not laugh at the fellow sith for putting on this show. "On that I have to agree. They can be a strange lot to hang out with sometimes. The brutes are easy to get along with, it's the high-borns who can be trouble at times."

Olin asked him is he could handle himself with a blaster. "To be honest I can handle myself better than most...I can also handle myself very well in hand-to-hand as well, if I do say so myself." he kept himself relatively modest. Sure he could do much more than that but there was no need to brag. Olin probably knew already what the pureblood was capable of.

"Also I can understand your hesitation, Mister Tisbar. You're probably worried that taking me on would bring some negative attention to the company from the Empire. Don't fret, I actually left on semi-decent terms so chances of you ending up in a crossfire because of me is pretty small." he reassured the manager. He was so tempted to test his theory. Draw on him, attempt to choke him, anything.

"But something tells me you're pretty capable of handling yourself as well in the event of such an attack. Or am I wrong, Mister Tisbar?" he said casually, but the last part had a very sarcastic tone to it, deciding to start testing the man.

@vamp

 

[Darth Parox]

"Welcome to the team!" he replied the moment Hask admitted he could use a blaster. That was all he asked of initiates. Those wanting to climb through the ranks would find that more was required of them, but someone wanting to sign up as an operative was likely to be instantly accepted as long as they were not particularly shady and could fight well. The cheerful air in the room quickly drained as Hask kept speaking—why did he have to do that?

"Hesitation? I would recruit the Emperor himself if he went into exile and decided to smuggle spice from hyperlane to hyperlane." But Hask did not stop speaking, even though Milo had chuckled and attempted to diffuse the situation. No, the Pureblood was onto something, and he wanted the Crusader to know that. His eyes narrowed behind his helmet, and he tapped a single finger on the table. His lightsaber was in his sleeve; one pull and slash and the man would be gone.

But that would be too suspicious. "Course I'm capable of handling myself, boy. I've been piloting freighters and shooting cops since the moment you were barely learning to wave your glow stick around." An idea came to him—one that only an enterprising spacer like Olin Tisbar would get. "You got that laser sword with you?"

@KinkyPrawn

 

[Hask Jen]

Hask stared at the man, not intrigued at all by the performance being put up. If he was going to keep testing his theory he was going to have to step up his game.

Going against his better judgement, he decided to test the man further.

"The proper term for it would be 'lightsaber'..." he said as he unclipped his crossguard lightsaber with his left hand and plopped it on the table, the sound similar to someone dropping a durasteel power tool on his desk.

"And for future reference, don't call me 'boy'. If I'm not mistaken, Milo, you and I are the same age more or less." Hask said casually, seeing right through the crusader's disguise pushing his petience to the max.

"Now, before we immediately start throwing each other across the room and attempt to slice each other up, tell me this..." he said more seriously, before things went from 'kind of alright' all the way down to 'not alright by a long shot'.

"How, pray-tell, did a sith once again rise to the top of the Exchange's ranks? I know something happened to Nor'baal the Hutt but I had no idea a crusader as prestigious as yourself was involved...oh and don't worry, I didn't just go into some exile or something, I struck a deal with a certain Darth that I'm sure you know as well as I do." he enquired, the curious tone clear as day. He wanted to see how far he can push him but he still needed to make friends with the guy...so to speak. Though mentioning his deal with Victress might be slightly problematic...or not, depending on Milo's views.

One thing's for certain, though. The pureblood was playing a very dangerous game.

@vamp

 

[Darth Parox]

He could not help it. He felt irritated. Irked by this man, who had somehow seen through his perfect façade, and wanted him to know that. Milo wasn't sure whether Hask was trying to get on his nerves, but he had succeeded—in fact, he had gone way past that. The moment he began saying the Crusader's name, Milo's lightsaber snapped into his palm and ignited during a vertical slash. Plasma would meet flesh as the Pureblood's left arm would be cut from the middle of the front of his forearm to the back of his upper arm, after which the Drast's lightsaber would recoil into a defensive position, should the man try to fight back.

Finding that he had risen, Milo would sit back down, hilt still in his hand. "It would appear that you're sporting quite the injury," he remarked coldly, his anger not visible but palpable. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, and he remained on edge, ready to parry any retaliating strike. "The Exchange will pay for your prosthetic," he added, back in that Outer Rim accent. "Please make sure we won't have to pay for a second, pal."

It was harsh, but the Sith's anger—coupled with his necessity to keep his identity a secret—made it necessary. If he let anyone push him around, he would not only lose credibility, but risk being ridiculed among the Sith ranks. This had taught the man that loose lips sink ships. Hopefully he would not need a second lesson—it would prove to be far more unpleasant.

His eyes stuck to Hask to gauge the man's reaction.

@KinkyPrawn

 

[Hask Jen]

Hask roared in pain as he recoiled, falling backwards until he hit the floor with a loud durasteel-clad thud. His helmet slipped off his head, revealing his pained face.

He lied on the floor for a few seconds, then struggled to get back on his feet. He tried to hoist himself up with his left hand out of habit, but was rudely reminded as to why it wasn't working. He finally got back onto his feet with the help of his right hand.

He pulled his left arm, or what's left of it, close to his chest and brought his right hand up next to his head, a flame ignited in his palm. He was ready to bathe the crusader in raging fire for the injury and snarky comment that followed...until he remembered where he was and why he was here.

He looked down at the stump, noticing it was still bleeding somewhat. He locked eyes with the sith as he lowered his right hand and held it close to the injury, cauterizing the wound. The pain was excruciating, but the rage he felt now was outweighing the pain by far. He didn't even flinch as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air.

He killed the flame and held his injured arm back against his chest, sliding it under his poncho to keep it hidden.

The pureblood was speechless. No words in either Basic or Sith could describe what he was feeling now.

As he finally calmed down after staring right through the crusader for what seemed like an hour, he broke the intense silence. "So, what? Am I hired now or what?" hew said in a cold, rough manner. Practically growling the words at him. He stretched his right hand out slowly and shakily, pulling his heavy hilt back towards him and clipping it back on his belt with a bit of a struggle.

@vamp

 

[Darth Parox]

It was an interesting display, to be fair. Normally, the Pureblood's decision to suppress his anger would be viewed as a sign of weakness, as though he were too scared to let loose and defend his honor in the face of a foe. This was not Korriban, however. In the real world, you sometimes had to take the fall and bite your tongue in front of your higher-ups, and Milo silently noted Hask's dutiful silence. The only thing he asked after the Crusader cut his arm off was whether he was hired or not, and that was respectable—not for Milo, but for Olin. With a nod, he replied, breaking the silence that had followed. His tone was noticeably more cheerful.

"Course you are. I said it from the beginning, didn't I?" He reached into his pocket and tugged out a weathered medpack, its white tinted with a bit of gray from wear and tear. Inside, Hask would find a tub of kolto, along with other things like bandages and painkillers. Milo threw it down at him. "Get yourself cleaned up and go find a dancer you like. Put it on the Exchange's tab." He clipped his lightsaber back to the inside of his forearm, standing up as he did so.

Milo shook his outstretched hand—though he doubted the man was actually asking for a handshake—and stopped to look at him. "Hask Jen." After another silence, he spoke. "Welcome to the team."

@KinkyPrawn

 

[Hask Jen]

He was bewildered when the man shook his hand and threw him a med-pack. He slowly reached out and took it, sliding it into a spot where it wouldn't fall out. He turned around and slowly walked towards the exit, stopping to painfully pick up his helmet off the floor.

He wanted to tell the sith to go fly into a star, but decided on something else. "...feel free...to contact me...first thing tomorrow morning." he said softly, but coldly. This did not go at all how he expected, but by the old gods and the Dark Side he was going to make the most of this new direction in life.

Despite having his arm cut off, his heart felt lighter and he somehow felt pleased. He set out to join the exchange one way or another...and here he was. He didn't bother to conceal his emotions, as a last way of giving the crusader the proverbial finger to show him that this Pureblood wouldn't be shot down that easily. He was finally his own person. Not sith, not an Acolyte, just Hask Jen.

Hask. Jen.

A small, weak smile was on his face as he slid the helmet back on, concealing his identity once again from a bar full of Mandalorians. He made his way slowly to the Hellion. Its medical facility was geared to treat wounds such as these and he was planning on holding Olin to his word.

By the next morning, he had an entirely new cybernetic left arm. The damage caused to him had forced the doctors to amputate the entire arm all the way up past the shoulder. Though by the next morning this entire new arm was already roughly painted black and red to add some personality to it.

As he settled in for the night on his ship, the words echoed in his head...

"Welcome to the team."

/Exit Thread

@vamp