Ask Coruscant License and Registration, Please

[Jackie O]

Jack leaned up against his speeder in the vacant parking garage, a sheet of rain falling coming off the overhang a few feet away. The garage stank with the all the chemicals and waster in the air mixing with the filth of the city below. Jack hardly even noticed as the end of cigarette flared as he took another drag from it, a small cloud of smoke spilling into the air a few seconds later.

This job was big, likely one of the biggest he had been apart of. Maybe this would be enough to start his climb up the ranks, a start to him making a name for himself.

He waited for his contact to arrive. He had been they were looking for some transponder codes, and not the sketchy ones you could get on Nar Shaddaa, legit ones that would hold up to some scrutiny. Jackie knew a guy, but he was currently locked up, serving about hundred years for stealing a small planet's fortune as a slicer. He was one of the best, and if they liberated him, they would come at much cheaper price than if they had to hire someone.

Jack had called in a small mountain of favors to get the slicer transported, one of the only times they could reach him to bust him out. If this went sideways, and he somehow managed to live, he was going to owe a lot of scary people. His back twitched slightly at the weight of it.

He shifted slightly, glancing back at the rain. He was his usual worn sports jacket with white shirt underneath. The clothes had definetly seen better days but was presentable enough. Maybe if today went well enough, he would buy himself some new clothes.

 

[Darth Tiamat]

These type of jobs were never easy; working with anyone in the underworld meant there was a hefty price for getting what you wanted, especially if you were unknown and an outsider. However, there seemed to be a mutual understanding and more sway when someone waved crowns, or credits, which ever they wanted. Tiamat arrived on Coruscant with under a different identification, but one that did not raise any eyebrows. She had dyed her hair black, keeping it fairly bland among the trillions who seemed to gravitate to her natural red. Along her face, neck and chest, were semi-permanent electro tattoos (so she can remove them later of course), and she wore her spacers getup that would help her blend in with the clientele.

She didn't like the rain, despite how much she tried to stay dry, she seemed to only become increasingly soaked so by the time she arrived to the parking garage, she was wringing out her hair. She had given her contact an alias, Vida, avoiding any previous used names just in case who was watching and recording.

A man matching the description of her contact stood by a speeder, smoking his cigara as she approached, "You must be Jack."

@Raydo