Ask Taris' Own Devil

[Levik Karn]

As a Commander of the Imperial Peacekeepers, Levik had control over pretty much all law enforcement activities on the planet of Taris. He knew where patrols would go, he knew which undercover agents was inbedded in which gang and more importantly to his current endeavours; he knew the rotten apples of his own peacekeeper force. The best of them -and the most reliable- he had recruited into his own personal unit, his security detail and members of his staff. He could ensure, therefore, that as he rested his tired eyes in the solitude of this hangar he wasn't about to get ambushed by anyone of the Empire's or the Exchange's enemies.

This hangar, you see, wasn't Imperial. It was privately owned by a Troig named Eccle'baal. It wasn't frequented by commercial or civilian pilots as its only clientel were members of guests of the Taris Exchange. Levik himself wasn't even in uniform, but wore a worn leather jacket over of neat black pants and dress shoes. He still carried the air of a military man as trained and served in the Eriadu Navy before being reassigned to the Peacekeepers after the Empire took control of his homeworld. The rigidness of his posture and the uprightness of his frame would never truly leave him or allow to be hidden. The same went for his men, six of them being posted spread out in the hangar with their pistols in easy-to-reach holsters. They weren't as fast as Preef Callo -who was, really- but they were there to make sure their guest didn't get any ideas.

"Commander," Levik's communications officer approached him, holding a datapad attached to an imperial navcomputer. "The Blackbird is heading this way. He's here." Levik rubbed his eyes one last time before he opened them and nodded towards his lieutenant. "Alright, take positions-" he pushed himself away from the durasteel wall he'd been leaning against and walked over to the back of the hangar to allow the ship the room to land. "-oh and prepare the office." It was bad form to request someone from Crow's calibre to come all the way to Taris and not at least offer him a comfy chair and a few decades old whiskey.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

The Blackbird dropped out of hyperspace, snapping into existence with a wink. In the blink of an eye the mottled miasmic blues of hyperspace conflagrated into the elongated images of stars that simultaneously contracted returning to pin-pricks of white light as the star scape spread out before him. Crow let a tendril of smoke curl up his cheek as his eyes scanned the horizon of the planet before him.

His ship slid toward the planet smoothly. PeeGee produced a melodic self-satisfied little chortle before looking back at Crow as if to say, “Not bad, amiright?”

Crix chuckled and gave PeeGee’s little domed head a loving pat, “Not bad, one day we’ll make a real pilot outta you.”

Harken, captain of the pirate crew under Crow’s command, laughed at the exchange while stretching his back, “Ooooh, I’m getting too old for this, shit,” he announced.

The older man’s eyes flicked to the flashing light on his console, “There’s the ping, man, these guys are excited to see you.”

Crow took a drag off his cigarette, “It’s tough being popular.”

Harken laughed, “You’ve been moonlighting quite a bit. Anything we need to be worried about, Crow?”

Harken had known Crix since he was a pissed off kid looking for revenge. As a matter of fact the older man made a point of calling him that when he didn't like something Crix was doing.

“Works been slow, I’m just supplementing my income. You do still want to get paid, right?” Crow shot back.

The Vet’s smile had a feral glean, “That I do.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to talk about,” Crix leveled his gaze at the older man.

Harken backed down. If anyone else had been on the ship, Harken would be dead. Crow didn’t tolerate disloyalty or insubordination, but he had a soft spot for the old man because of their past. This display may have meant Crow had been too slack.

A few minutes later, Crow was walking down his boarding ramp and into the open hangar. He was dressed in his usual gear. His helmet had been left behind, but his guns were all in their usual spots. As he hit the ground, Crix cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at the positioned goons littering the space. In the center was a non-descript man in plain clothes that held himself like a soldier.

Crow gestured to the surrounding show of force, and asked, “All this for little ole me?”

@Eccles

 

[Levik Karn]

Commander Karn smiled slightly upon the man's remark and took a pack of stims from the inside pocket his jacket, "She said you're with the Crimson." The Taris Exchange often worked with the more illicit side of the Bounty Boards and one of the major players taking jobs from the Proletariat Bounty Board had been Kara Lok. The recently returned ringleader of the Crymorah Syndicate now operated from Hutt Space for her own protection and wasn't available for work, but she had suggested Crow instead. A capable enforcer, by all accounts. She had called him the 'Devil of Denon' and that was a nickname too good to pass up.

"But let's now waste time here," Levik pulled out a stim with his lips and then offered his guest to take one as well, before putting them back in his pocket and lighting the stim-cigarette with his Eriadu Naval Academy graduation lighter. "confirm to me you're who she said you are and let's talk business inside."

Kara Lok had been clear on her description of him. The Crimson Dawn enforcer named Crow, formerly the 'Devil of Denon' was a handsome man -debatable, Levik thought- that was both a very skilled pilot and steady during stressful situations. A dependable mercenary, for sure. If Kara said that it was usually true, but Levik couldn't find anything that connected the names Crow and 'Devil of Denon' so it seemed that was perhaps an old moniker, or a affectionate name Kara used for him.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

The guy in plain dress pretending not to be the boss made it clear introductions weren’t necessary and truth be told, Crow wasn’t mad about it, but his eyebrow cocked when the other guy brought a mysterious, “She” into their conversation. Great now, he’d been given the task of deciphering this dickhead’s riddles while doing his best not to say more than he needed. Credits were great, but information was priceless.

“Is that right?” he replied. Okay, he’d mentioned “She” which Crow could put together as an informant who’d passed along his information to the Exchange. Definitely not Terra, he hadn’t spoken to his boss in months. He had, however, just worked with Kara Lok. A small smile flitted across his face as he remembered the honeymoon suit. First mystery solved.

To the stem Crow politely declined, “No thanks, I’m a Corellian Spirits kinda guy,” while retrieving his ratty pack from his pocket and lighting up. The Enforcer didn’t miss the naval academy lighter. That explained the military posture. The problem with that was he didn’t talk like a merc. This guy guarded. Yay…

“You stand before the Devil, sir,” he said casually taking a hit off his cigarette, “I’m guessing you’re the head honcho around,” he said gesturing to their general location with the hand holding the cigarette, “Mind telling me who’s asking?”

@Eccles

 

[Levik Karn]

Looked like this particular Crimson Dawn Enforcer had the attitude to match, but at least he confirmed his identity. "I work for Eccle'baal". The troig was a well-known entity on Taris and connected space as the boss of the Taris Exchange. The lighter and pack of stims disappeared into Levik's jacket as he slowly dragged the cigarette, observing this so-called Devil. "We contacted Kara of the Zaa Fenn for a reliable operator," the ISB Commander continued, revealing a little more of the context and purpose of their requested visit with the Devil of Denon. It had been a while since Kara had operated in the Core and Galactic Mid Rim, but she had been a top Fixer for the Proletariat Bounty Board a few years ago and she had recently popped back up on the merc and slicer subnets.

Levik wouldn't have made the call to Kara, but one of the Troig's personalities -Eccles- was a big fan of Preef Callo and he loved to boast a certain working arrangement between the legendary rodian's crime family and his own black market. "She gave us your contacts."

After taking his third and last drag from the stim, Levik tossed it aside on the hangar floor and motioned for Crix to follow. "Follow me to the office and I'll tell you more," he didn't smile, but there was something in the way Levik said it that betrayed he was pretty excited about the opportunity he was about to present to the underworld enforcer.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix didn’t like fighting an uphill battle. He’d seen plenty of prospects and wannabe’s take blaster bolts to the dome in that fated final scramble at victory, and he’d decided he very much preferred to be the guy up on the ridge taking pop-shots. Which was why he wasn’t thrilled when his contact managed to avoid his question. He did however divulge who his employer was, or who he wanted Crow to believe his employer was. Eccle’Baal was a relatively new player in the game, but that wasn’t new. The vacuum of power within the criminal aspect of the galaxy was always in flux. That also provided him with an opportunity.

Regular Joe, the guy who refused to introduce himself, confirmed Crow’s guess by name dropping the Zaa Fenn and Kara. Suddenly, Crow wondered if Kara was pissed he’d split before she’d woken up the next day, but he doubted it. Then again… how did that old Denon saying go?

Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn.

Nah, he was sure his success would benefit her somehow. Shit, he owed her ten percent of his take for the job. So, Kara would be fine. No, there was a good chance this was an opportunity to step back into the independent sphere.

“I’ll have to thank her,” Crow replied with a grin.

The man took a final drag on his stim and tossed it down before directing Crow to follow. The Smuggler took a drag off his cigarette and followed after him, not quite ready to let go of his vice. The goons around him watched as they began to move out of the hangar, “Sounds great.”

Four broke off from their position. Two settled in front of Regular Joe, and the other two nestled in behind Crow. They were outfitted like a militia which made The Smuggler wonder if they were all military or Vets. That could complicate things if he didn’t wanna play along. Not to mention the strange glean in Regular Joe’s eye when he’d mentioned the job. It was like watching a torturer spot their next victim.

The walk to the office wasn’t long. A couple of imperial looking hallways led them right to it. The guards in front took position on either side of the door, while the two behind Crow followed them in and took up positions on the other side of the door. Crow started weighing his options. So far this was business as usual, but he had a feeling the catch was about to show itself. He just hoped the pay was worth the hassle.

"Well, the build up for this has been fun, but what can a Smuggler like me do for the Exchange, Mr... Uh, sorry I don't think I caught your name," tried Crow for the final time.

@Eccles

 

[Levik Karn]

The office wasn't much to admire. Old model desk, dating from before the Empire took control of Taris, and a few server cabinets of which half of what were supposed to be lights were clearly shut off. Not much running out of here, it seems, so definitely a temporary place to meet. Levik made no attempt to make it seem like he was at home in this office, but he did know where the liquor was stashed. The drawer on his side of the desk opened up to reveal two glasses and a bottle of Corellian whiskey, all three of which he put down on the table.

"For a man who goes by 'The Devil of Denon' and 'Crow'-" the Commander of the Imperial Peacekeepers shook his head before opening the bottle and beginning to pour two glasses, "-you seem frustrated with me not sharing my name." He continued and began to smile as he held out one of the glasses towards Crix.

"Call me-" Levik paused for a moment as he took a sip of his own whiskey, "-The Tarisian." A chuckle followed at the absurdity of the situation. He wasn't foolish enough to give his real name -the name listed on Imperial record files- to an enforcer of the Crimson Dawn without at least some manner of trust between the two men. However much he valued Kara Zaa Fenn's professionalism as a Fixer, Levik sure as hell didn't trust her not to sell him out to the Crimson if theirs was a highest bid.

"So let's talk business, but let me make one thing clear up front;" he put down the glass and retrieved a datachip from the inside pocket of his jacket, "I needed a smuggler, a thief and a gunman. There's only room for one, so I asked Kara for someone who was all three. Are you all three or just the pilot of the Blackbird?" He held the datachip up for Crix to look at it, as if he waited to hear his answer before either handing it over or putting it back in his pocket and ending the meeting right there and then.


@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow smiled flatley at his hosts' complete disregard for simple etiquette. He took the glass and shrugged, “It’s weird you won’t tell me how to address you.”

Regular Joe seemed to consider this a moment then finally provided Crow with an alias.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

With that settled they got started. Crow listened to The Tarisian intently. His brow furrowed when the required skills for the job were listed. “I’m the whole package, but high-stakes means hazard pay.”

Make no mistake, Crix Dolan was a bad man. He could fly, he could shoot, and he could steal with the best of them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be a one man crew. Those tended to be suddenly expendable right before payday.

“What’s the job?” he asked eyeing the chip in The Tarisian held.

@Eccles

 

[Levik Karn]

Levik shoved the datachip across the desk towards Crix, "You'll be paid accordingly. It's all on the chip."

There was a datapad on the desk as well in case Crix didn't bring his own, which, considering he didn't know what was on the chip was probably smarter to use anyway. The contents weren't a dataplague, but the layout and three-dimensional floorplan of one of the Empire's most secure locations. The Artefact Vault on Raxus. Other details were included, too. His fee was sizeable and factored in personal risk and the importance of the target. This wasn't the kind of job you offered a mere scoundrel.

"An opening will be provided for you to enter the vault," Levik said rather casually for a job this size, "plus a uniform of the Imperial Security Bureau." The level of access that Levik enjoyed as a Commander of the Imperial Peacekeepers was immense, moreso because the current Director was still presumed dead and there wasn't yet a not one appointed to oversee Levik's movements. "Your exit is considerably more difficult." Since a Peacekeeper isn't supposed to just walk out of the building holding a Sith Artefact and several bled kyber crystals. Still, according to the plan outlined on the datachip there was a route Crix could take and if he was on schedule it guaranteed that security personal would be low, distracted or otherwise preoccupied enough for him to slip through unnoticed and get his ass back attached to the Imperial shuttle that transported Commander Karn.

He would disengage the magpads mid-flight and use his jetboots to fly back to his stashed starship, the Blackbird. He would then have to get off Raxus without getting spotted by the control towers. This was the same way he was supposed to enter, too. Smuggle himself onplanet, take jetboots and magpads to attach himself to Commander Karn's shuttle as the Imperial was on his way to the Artefact Vaults. The idiot commander -so it was stated in the mission brief- would never find out he was the cause of the security breach.

Levik -or, The Tarisian- sat back in his chair and took a satisfied sip from his drink. "I need to know whether you're in," unbeknownst to Crix, the two incognito peacekeepers -and Exchange scoundrels- slowly opened their jackets in case they had to take him out. The Exchange couldn't have anyone not involved with the plan know about the plan beforehand.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow’s eyes flicked from the datachip to the pad on the table. He used the provided equipment. He took a sip of the whisky and fucking approved, “Mr. The Tarisian, I’ve gotta say if the job offer is as good as this whiskey you’ll have me sold.”

The datapad took a moment to boot up. He awkwardly smiled, took a pull on his cigarra then another sip of whiskey,then he cleared his throat while the device’s factory default welcome chortle signaled the end of his personal hell. Once the datachip was inserted Crow set to picking apart any and all information he could wrap his head around.

Right from the start he wondered if it was too late to back out. Raxus? Fuck. Then he chewed on that for a minute. It was Raxus. He scrolled the information and accessed the model. The datapad spit the 3D iridescent image out and Crow let out a low whistle as he took in the image.

“Now, this is a job with some chest hair,” he said, punctuating the statement with a final sip of whiskey. His eyes landed on the pay. It was adequate for the risk. He licked his lips. He could feel the things starting to add up and if his hunch was right this just might be the most dangerous job he’d ever done. He’d never worked with a handler this secretive, this guarded.

Crix set the datapad down, practiced sabacc veneer plastered over his face, and looked across the table at The Tarisian. The tension in the moment was stifling. One wrong move and he knew he’d be dead. He couldn’t see the two guards prepping, but he knew to expect it.

“I’m in,” he said, dropping his cigarra into the whisky glass.

@Eccles

 

[Levik Karn]

The two Exchange goons visibly relaxed as Crix agreed to the contract. Levik, too, smiled as he nodded his head and extended his hand for a shake. "Welcome onboard, Crix." It was rare to get talent like him these days. It was easier back when the Five Major Syndicates were still on speaking terms with each other. Preef, Vivienne, Durr, Carr and Xarr would all meet periodically and formed what was essentially the ruling body of organized intergalactic crime. After the Independent Systems Consortium (ISC) waged a war against them the balance of power become aschew, causing the Hutt Cartel and the Crimson Dawn to split from the Collective and end was what knows as the 'Five Syndicates'.

Some say that the Crimson Dawn and Hutt Cartel both profit from deals surrounding the legal mining and refining of addictive spice as both had for a time their own kingpins in formal public governorship of Kessel. Even the Crymorah Syndicate, for a moment ruled by the non-member Shane Covax profited from the ISC spice mines. Meaning that, for all intents and purposes, the ISC had won the war against the Five Syndicates. Going against this consortium therefore wasn't wise, but going against its enemies like the Empire both before and after its split from the Sith Order, was as far as the Exchange knew still fair game for the other syndicates. Levik, therefore, didn't expect Crix to run back to Terra and rat them out.

Sustained legal profit from what used to be illegal rackets did cause the quality of goons to drop. There was less need for enforcers now that the planet's law enforcement and armed forces were protecting you rackets. Enforcers that had actually needed to fire their blasters in high stakes situations were becoming rare.

Anyway, the plans were ready. The Crew is formed. The access codes obtained. It was time to rumble...

/end thread
@Zay