Ask The Price of Freedom

[Crix Dolan]

A shitty cigarette hung loosely from Crix's Dolan's lips as he scanned the den of miscreants around him. A couple of card games were in full tilt, a band was playing, and the liquor was flowing. If this hadn't been located on a luxury yacht owned by a prominent member of the Five syndicates, he might have been enjoying himself.

flick

He lit up his cigarette, adjusted his vest, and turned to the bar. A large mirror running a reflective landscape across the backdrop of the bar revealed a number of denizens just as on edge as he was.

Great, he mused.

The settle shift and sway of the floor warned him not to get another drink, but he ignored the warning as the server droid approached.

"Whiskey neat."

Crix took a drag off his cigarette and let it go. He was here for an interview, and the thought of having to schmooze his way into a job didn't sit well with him. His hand drifted toward the butt of his RSKF-44 but only grasped air. The missing weapon was a staunch reminder of the security on the ship. If anything went down he'd be vulnerable.

Dolan threw back his drink, then ordered another on the rocks. He needed to slow down, he was letting his nerves get the best of him.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

Karina came dressed as she usually might: as someone else.

Today she moved under the mask and identity of Ines, the legendary assassin known for his wealth of completed bounties, including that of Durr the Hutt, and the knives he always carried underneath his rippling cloak and smuggler’s armor. He was a man to be feared and a force not to be reckoned with. But legend or not, Karina was still just a mercenary contracted to a powerful crime lord, compelled to do his bidding simply because he dangled her brother Dima above her head like a threat.

She intended to change that.

Karina strode through the crowded bar and lounge, without her personal blasters but armed with knives from head to toe. Cigar smoke wafted through the air, as did the reek of sweat and scotch. On a marble stage, a woman in a sparkling blue dress serenaded the patrons, backed by a band of Bith musicians. This place was like any ordinary cantina you might find in the Outer Rim. The only difference was, it was suffused with luxury and wealth, amenities Karina never particularly cared for.

All she wanted was Dima back. But she couldn’t do it alone.

She slid into the seat beside Crix, not once looking his way. Through the mechanical, low baritone of her voice modulator, she snorted. “You look like you’re about to burst at the seams. I would suggest you relax, else that whiskey will run right through you.” She tapped against the edge of the table, then glanced at him. “The name’s Ines. You’re Crix Dolan, right? Or am I confusing you for another drunk smuggler?”

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix fixed the armor-clad newcomer with an annoyed side-eye. He hated being a step behind and even worse he despised people knowing his name without knowing them first.

"If you think a couple shots of whiskey'll throw me off," his eyes slid to the glint of a knife hilt protruding just outside the being's cloak, "...well, maybe you need to sharpen your assessment."

The newcomer was armed. Crix chastised himself for not trying to smuggle in a blade, but let it go. He needed to remain calm, and proceed with a level head. This wasn't about or for him, it was for Denon, no... It was for Mal.

"I'm Crix, but I'm gonna be honest, I have a hard time believing your Ines."

The only Ines that rang a bell in his mind was the nearly mythical assassin known for opulence and the death of a hutt. Why in the kriff would a person like that be slumming it in the lower deck of a syndicate pleasure yacht looking for a gun for hire? Besides, any dipshit in full armor with a hard-on for knives could claim to be the most notorious hunter in the rim.

Crix took a drag on his cigarette and punctuated it with a sip of whiskey. His posture had remained forward, if this was a discreet conversation he wouldn't be the one to give that discretion away.

"Tell you what, I don't care who you are. You got credits, then you've got my attention."

 

[Karina Safin]

“I couldn’t care less if you believe it or not. You’re here for credits, and I’m here for a pilot that isn’t stupid enough to crash land into a cliffside wall. If you think you can do that, then you can have what you want.” Karina leaned against the counter, not bothering to sip from the glass of brandy she’d ordered, and discreetly slid over a packet of untraced Republic credits. “You can get half now and half after the deed’s done. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but… I don’t trust you.”

Honestly, she had only heard of the man days ago. He seemed desperate and looked about at the end of his wits, and she figured that would make him a cheap and easy partner to latch onto. She couldn’t rely on what other bounty hunters she knew. If she intended to double-cross her boss, a man of wealth and resources, she would need someone that wouldn’t immediately sell her out knowing the man would pay them triple for it. She needed someone low to the ground, inconspicuous.

Stupid, most of all. Just not stupid enough to get her killed.

Karina leaned her back against the bar counter and sighed. “You are going to my one ticket to the man I need to kill, and my ticket out. It won’t be easy, but you don’t have to worry about getting your hands dirty unless things take a turn for the worst.” She tilted her head toward Crix. Even if he couldn’t see it, a smile tugged the corner of her lip. “So, what will it be? Are you willing to throw your life on the line for a chance to change it, or would you rather stay here and drink yourself to death?”

She had a feeling she already knew his answer, but she wanted to hear it from his mouth first. He probably had no idea what he was about to get himself into, though he'd find out soon enough.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix watched "Ines" slide an envelope in his direction and knew what it was before he put his hand to it. A grin as wry as the whiskey he drank spread across his lips, and for the first time he turned to face his new "business partner."

"You had my attention when you arrived," he picked up the envelope, opened it, and thumbed through the stack before pocketing the credits, "...but now you have my interest."

He raised his glass and took a sip, draining the last of his drink. The server droid approached and Crix declined another drink. This was all coming off as too good to be true. The first installment was substantial, well not for someone like Ines, but for him, it was the foundation he'd need to start building his force.

"I'm a capable pilot and I've got a fast ship, but if you want me to kill someone that's gonna cost you."

The pirate leveled Ines with that same grin, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Asking a man to do two jobs for the price of one was an insult, even if he wasn't a name, letting that slide would paint him a fool.

"This'll be your deposit, every kill I get will increase the pot." Crix made a show of doing some mental math, "I'm thinking 500 a head. Plus, you'll be covering any damage my ship acquires during this endeavor. After all, if you are Ines, that'll be a drop in the bucket, right?"

Crix let the offer settle between them taking a final drag on his cigarette and putting it out before offering his hand and saying, "We got a deal?"

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“Five hundred a head? Don’t be ridiculous.” Karina about rolled her eyes into the back of her skull, and even masked, the smuggler could probably read her irritation like an open book. She would have much rather haggled him in return, drop the price to either nothing or at most half of his suggestion, but why bother? The man she was going after had innumerable wealth and resources. To defeat him, she not only needed a loyal partner, but a motivated one. Good pay tended to accomplish just that.

She sighed and shook her head. “Fine. Just this time, I can do five hundred each head. Covering any damage to your ship should be easy, too. Long as you’re not a complete disappointment of a pilot.” Karina leaned against her side, glaring at him through the slate black cover of her visor. The smuggler could kill a hundred men and she could afford the cost. She just only wished to have enough leftover for her and Dima to start a new life again. “We have an agreement.”

Karina reached out her hand. “The deal is the deal.”

Once they shook hands, she turned and cut between the mess of patrons, moving through wisps of cigar smoke and the reek of alcohol, like a shadow on the wall. She expected the smuggler to follow, perhaps lead her to whatever mundane vessel he was currently in possession of. She didn’t expect much. Honestly, she was waiting for him to point out a pile of scrap metal among the transports in the dockyard where the yacht was parked.

“So, where is it? Or were you expecting me to buy you a ship, too?”

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

A grin ruptured across his face as Ines groaned inwardly. Even behind the helmet he knew his new partner was pissed. Dolan prepared for their rebuttal, but it never came. After a moment Ines... just agreed.

Crix found himself on his heels. Was this really the Ines, like, actually the legendary assassin?

He cocked an eyebrow and took their hand. "Yeah, it's a deal."

As soon as they shook Ines was on the move, Crix followed behind letting his new boss lead until they asked where his ship was. The whirlwind of the moment had him struggling to fire on all cylinders, but he took Ines' meaning and stalked off toward the yacht's docking bay.

They made a quick stop by the weapon check, and Crix retrieved his gun and wrist blaster. A moment later they were stepping out of a tubrolift and into the hanger. A dazzling array of heavily modified freighters, patrol craft, and gunboats filled the space. They cut down a couple of rows and up a column before an excited chortle caught Crix's ear.

Beegee was rocking happily back and forth at the top of the ramp. Crix gave the little droid a two-fingered salute and returned his attention to Ines.

"This good enough for you?"

Behind him The Freebird sat engines purring and cabin lights flooding the dimly lit hanger and casting Crix is a silhouette. He turned his back on Ines and made his way up the ramp. He entered the lounge and stepped up to his wet bar pouring himself and Ines a glass of expensive Dantooine cognac. A lingering suspicion began to creep into his mind, but before he made any rash decisions he needed to get to know this legendary assassin better.

"So, you gonna give me anymore details?"

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“Cute,” Karina said upon inspection of his ship. “I see you’ve given her plenty of upgrades. Still, just because she looks like she can fly, doesn’t mean she will. I can only hope you’re as good a pilot as you claim.” She traced a gloved finger against the lower hull of the transport, as if checking a table for dust. “Does she have a name?”

A small part of her thought Crix might have stolen the ship, or did some very questionable things to acquire it. For a man with little credentials and a lack of hard experience in the mercenary field, a pursuit craft retrofitted with military grade jets seemed rather excessive. Or maybe Karina had underestimated him. Maybe this smuggler was more than a sleaze plucked out of an underworld trash chute. She’d once been the same, after all. A orphan girl whose only skill was to survive.

She brushed away the thought as she entered the ship’s main cabin. Scanning the room for details or potential threats, she stood by the ramp for a minute before slumping into the cushioned lounge in the corner, far enough from the wet bar to be comfortable. If Crix offered her a drink, she wouldn’t take it.

She was not much the drinking type, especially in disguise.

Karina folded her arms over her chest and nodded. “The mission’s simple. You take me to Nar Shaddaa and you help me assassinate an undercity crime lord.” She figured that piece of information would lead to more questions, so before Crix bothered asking, she continued, “Some call him the ‘Last Margrave.’ Others like to think of him as the Eye of Shaddaa. I only know him as Kirigan, and he’s one of the most dangerous men in the Five Syndicates. But so am I, and between the two of us, we have unfinished business.”

“He’s staying at a gambling hall in the Slat District called the Wellspring. You take me there, I kill him, and you pull me out. It’s that easy.” She tapped an impatient knuckle against the lounge table. Karina did not tell him the real purpose of their mission. She wanted to murder Kirigan, yes, but most of all she wanted Dima back.

“Any more questions?”

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix held the glass of spiced whiskey long enough to watch the masked assassin take a seat across the room.

"Make yourself at home..."

The Smuggler was struggling to get a bead on Ines, and that was putting him on edge. He didn't like the idea of putting his life on the line for someone that wasn't trustworthy. In his time working the seedier sides of the galaxy he'd learned it wasn't always the knife in the dark you had to worry about, sometimes is the one right in front of you.

Deciding not to waste his favorite whiskey, Crix poured the cup he'd made for Ines into his own and set it in the sink before taking a seat at the bar across the room from them. Crix studied Ines. For someone who was renowned for their martial prowess, it seemed odd to him that they were as slender as they were, but of course, he didn't even know if they were human.

He took a sip of cognac and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket while the assassin laid out the plan. When she mentioned killing an undercity crime lord he sneered, "Oh, is that all?"

Jokes aside, Crix was paying attention. Ines spoke with a disdainful reverence that was akin to the fury he felt when he thought of his home. His whole reason for being where he was, was to strike back at those that had killed his family...

Ines finished detailing the job and gave him the floor, without hesitation he said, "Who'd Kirigan hurt?"

Crix fully expected the assassin to ignore his question, but if on the off chance they opened up, he'd be willing to listen.

Beegee rolled in with a whistle, letting Crix know The Freebird was warmed up and ready to go.

"You can take the room on the left. Refresher is the second door on the right."

Ines would find a modestly furnished room. Unless he was stopped Crix would make for the cockpit and get them on their way. They were a short jump to Nar Shaddaa, but based on the chemistry he shared with his "crewmate" he had a feeling it was going to feel like an eternity.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“Thanks,” she said, settling into the lounge seat. “I will.”

Karina knew it was not her place to take charge in another man’s ship, but this was her mission and with as many credits as she intended to sink in the smuggler, she would squeeze every amenity and benefit she could out of him. She expected him to carry his own weight around when it came down to it. She was not there to play babysitter, not when she already had someone else to look out for—Dima, wherever he was, would need her help—and Karina would piggyback him out of Kirigan’s wretched gambling hall even if it meant losing her life in the process.

She sighed. Kirigan, the old oaf. He would regret ever touching her brother. She’d make certain of it.

“Kirigan’s what you would expect from most crime lords these days. His empire was cemented in blood. He hurt a lot of people, okay? Good people.” Karina turned from Crix, not wanting to delve too deep into her personal life. She had yet to inform him of the real purpose of their mission, afraid he might back out. Assassinations, after all, were much easier to handle than a rescue operation. Too much variables to consider. Too many opportunities for things to go wrong. To succeed, they’d have to be remarkably careful.

At the offer of a room—which Karina frankly did not expect—she rose from her seat and nodded. “Great,” she said, although her appreciation was barely noticeable underneath her stony features and tone of voice. She’d never been much of a talker, or a charmer. Those she worked with on Durr’s assassination couldn’t even remember her name, beyond Preef. She worked alone. Always alone.

And yet, when Crix moved to the cockpit, Karina followed. Maybe out of a lack of trust or maybe something more—she didn’t know. While he took the pilot’s seat and started up his ship, she settled in the one beside him, brandishing one of her knives and sharpening its edge with another. “Hope you don’t mind if I stay here,” she told him. “I don’t usually sleep before missions.”

She had a feeling her presence would unnerve him. And honestly, that was fine by her.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Unsuprisingly, Ines avoided his actual question about the Eye of Shaddaa. Luckily, Crix had been right and the assassin's reaction gave away more than they realized. Crix knew this was personal now, and the business side of him wished he'd asked for more money.

In the cockpit, Crix was setting things in motions, Beegee had already primed the ship's main engines and all The Smuggler had to do was take the reins and activate the repulsers. As he did so, Ines joined him. Crix fought back the urge to sigh. He'd offered the assassin a room so they'd frak off and do whatever it was assassins did before... well, before an assassination, but nooooooo, Ines wanted to chill. Great.

"Making sure I'm worth price?"

Crix lifted the landing gear and turned the ship around. Beegee rolled in and connected to the ship's main console with a crescendoing whistle which signaled he was ready for the trip. A few short minutes later and they'd broken atmosphere. He double-checked their coordinates and Beegee alerted him to the hyperdrive which indicated it was ready.

"Jumping in 3...2...1." The Smuggler eased the drive forward and the starscape before them stretched into lines, before conflagrating into the miasmic mottled blue hues of hyperspace.

"How'd I do?"

Crix stood and stretched. "You got everything from here, Beegee?"

The droid chortled an affirmative.

"Perfect," turning his attention to Ines, "So, wanna trade tragic backstories?" He asked while sipping his double cognac and leaning against his chair.

Crix was a good pilot, he was a decent shot, but one area he excelled in above all others was getting under people's skin. Based on the way Ines had reacted with his light probing about Kirigan, he was pretty sure this would send the assassin running for that guest room.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“How’d you do?” Karina repeated back at him, then tilted her head back and laughed. “You shifted out of parking and jumped us into hyperspace. For a pilot, that is the equivalent of a ten-year old shitting in the toilet—it’s expected, and a little sad if they couldn’t stick the landing.” She rolled her eyes, even though she knew his question had been nothing more than a nonsensical joke. “Well, I suppose you deserve a reward for all your hard work in the last… six minutes. How about when we land on Nar Shaddaa, I buy you a drink?”

The request might have seemed tempting on the surface, but the way Karina said it made it sound almost threatening, as if the drink she intended to serve was arsenic, and not whiskey. She hoped that would be enough to shut the smuggler up, but as his droid took control of the ship, Crix simply kept talking.

At the mention of tragic backstories though, Karina couldn’t resist chiming in. She crossed her arms and pivoted slightly enough in her seat to face him, then snorted a laugh. “Sounds like a bright idea, actually. I’ll go first—my real name is Gertrude, and my mother and father died tragically in an explosion years ago when the Sith invaded my sweet, irrelevant backwater world years ago, and since then I have been pursuing a life paved in blood and petty revenge.”

She flourished one of her knives, inspecting it in the artificial light. “Maybe that’s a little too depressing. I could always tell you about the one where I’m a Republic spy and this is all a trap to capture some notorious criminals, but I’d rather not send my pilot scurrying from his own cockpit.”

A smile touched her lips. While she was a dry hard-ass when it came to most of her partners, this one particularly, she was not totally humorless. Karina was an implanted agent in the Consortium military. She could inhabit new identities and contrive whole backstories by the snap of her finger, and sell them convincingly. If the smuggler hoped to pry out information from her, it was going to take a lot more than charm and a handsome face.

“What about you?” she asked him. “I’m sure you have your own fanciful history to ply me with. Although I can probably guess you’re from a city world. Taris? Corellia? Denon?”

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix brandished a shit-eating grin as Ines praised his hard work to his surprise they even offered to buy him a drink.

"Only if you take off your helmet."

The tension between them seemed to be shifting, which he was thankful for. Their initial meeting had put him on edge, but now they seemed to be dancing.

Ines' tone suggested exactly what Crix had assumed, that the truth was something the assassin didn't dole out easily. Ines danced around the question mockingly, and he sipped his drink as they did. The shocking parallel of his life with that of Gertrude stood out to him. Anger's a fickle thing. It's easy to give into, even easier to indulge in. Crix had spent most of the past five years indentured to his rage as he clawed tooth and nail across the galaxy with the sole purpose of acquiring power. Somewhere along the way, he'd realized a singular mind can only obtain a singular goal, and he wanted the Sith to suffer not be mildly inconvenienced.

"I don't know I'd like to hear how Gertrude's story ends."

Crix laughed as Ines regaled him with the idea of a dashing republic spy sent to capture villainous criminals in a hive of debauchery, "Eh, that one's fun, but it's not grounded enough for me."

The Assassin awaited Crix's answer. He weighed what he was about to do and decided that if he expected any kind of honesty out of Ines, he'd have to lead by example.

"Ya know, my story's a lot like Gerty's," he cleared his throat suddenly finding it hard to form words, "I was a starship engineer on Denon, so you were right. I'm a city boy," he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, "The, now, Sith empire invaded my homeworld, decimated the apartment building where my wife and unborn child were, and then expected me to fucking fall in line with our new rulers."

The fury that flowed through him was all-consuming. He could smell the burning debris and charred bodies. His body remembered the fear, the panic, the agony. He wiped his eyes and tipped back the last sip of his drink. "I didn't and as futile as it may be, I will make them pay."

The weight of his burden was laid bare. He felt vulnerable, but he wasn't ashamed and if Ines tried to crack a joke or dismiss what he'd said, then it would only expose their weakness, not his.

"I'm gonna grab a caff, I'd offer you one, but you'd have to take off your helmet."

Crix would leave the cockpit. Ines was free to follow. In the lounge, Crix would begin the ritual of a pour-over. hand grinding the beans, heating the water and timing the brewing process. The aroma alone would be enough to make one salivate. Everything was done with a level of precision that would starkly contrast the way he normally presented himself.

Once done, he'd collapse into his booth and stretch out propping a boot up on the table.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“You would sooner catch the edge of this knife before I take off this helmet,” said Karina, half a threat and half an attempt at sarcasm. She was starting to warm up to the smuggler. While she seriously doubted they would come to a point where she’d trust her life to him, for now, she could be comfortable in his presence. They could continue this little dance. “I’m no Mandalorian, but I like my secrets right where they are.” She tapped the knife’s tip against her temple. “To myself.”

Karina turned the blade over in her hand. In the next moment, it was gone, hiding somewhere in the sleeve of her cloak. She thought the conversation might die after that, not sure what else to say, until Crix broke the silence with a story. A real story. It was obvious by his tone, from the lump forming in his throat and the faraway look in his eyes, that he was speaking the truth. Why? There was no reason to tell her, and while she might not have cared, Karina couldn’t help but feel for him. For his pain.

The feeling was all too familiar.

She might’ve said sorry, maybe offered her condolences, but what would that accomplish? Pity was meaningless. The best she could do was nod and understand. “I get that,” she said and gazed out to the stars, a blue haze through the cockpit window. “I lost people close to me too, and I’d give anything to make the men responsible pay. Revenge might not give either of us the closure we need, but hey—it’ll feel good to try.”

It would. She could never take back the years of indentureship she’d suffered under Kirigan, but she could find some pleasure in taking his life.

As Crix rose and left the cockpit, Karina found it hard not to follow. A small part of her wanted to believe it was because she couldn’t afford to take her eyes off him, afraid he might sell her out at the earliest opportunity, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth. She thought he could use the company—even if it wasn’t very comforting.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It is going to take a lot more than coffee or a glass of whiskey before I ever show you my face.” Karina shadowed him, trailing him into the cabin where she latched onto the wall, leaning by the nearest door. She fought the urge to stare at the smuggler for too long, refusing to give him so much as an ounce of undeserved attention. Instead she crossed her arms stiffly, her gaze dismantling the room around them. A leather booth, a Dejarik table, a wet bar—predictably rustic. Classic for a smuggler of his type.

“How long have you had this ship?” she asked curiously.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Vulnerability was a funny thing. Funny in that opening up was normally the loneliest thing someone could do, and right now Crix wished he'd never said anything. It had been years since he'd allowed himself to feel the agony of loss, to really wallow in his pain, and for what? A chance that this stranger, this legendary assassin would care?

Sure, and gammorians don't smell like shit.

Luckily, the smell of the caff he'd made snapped him out of his momentary pity party. The ritual of the pour-over had calmed his nerves and taking a little time to sober up wasn't a bad idea considering he'd most likely be operating firearms in a few hours. He found Ines to be clingy for someone who was so proud of their secrets. Every chance he took to distance himself from the assassin only saw them tailing his shadow.

Crix took a sip of his caff and relished the lighter floral flavor notes of the drink, before responding to Ines.

"I've owned The Freebird for a little over five years," he felt himself begin to open up about how'd he'd managed to get the money together for it, but after his stunted attempt at team building a few moments prior he decided it wasn't worth bringing up.

The Smuggler took a moment to admire the space between them before returning his attention to his cup.

"Well, this has been... something," he said stepping out from behind the bar. Crix was moving toward his room, which, of course, was the door Ines was standing next to.

"I think I'm gonna haul up in my room for a few and get my mind right for the job," he smiled lifting his cup in a weird salutation before passing the threshold and shutting the door.

The weight of the mission began to rear its head. Crix knew something was off about the job. It was too easy to get the number of credits he'd wanted and the deposit upfront was obscene. This was going to be a real bitch and he didn't like the fact that he was heading in without all the facts. He sat down at his desk and opened his terminal quickly punching in the name of the gambling hall they were going to be hitting.

Crix's hand habitually opened the upper right-hand drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit up the cigarette and pulled up a holograph of Slat district and began zooming in on the Wellspring in an attempt to map out a flight path.

"Yup... this is gonna be a bitch."

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

Five years. Karina thought he might explain, maybe feed her a story or an adventure or two about his time with the ship, but instead he stayed quiet, sipping his mug as if it was a healing tonic. Then, about as casually as he could, he rose and moved for his quarters. She shifted uncomfortably away. Karina had an odd feeling her company was no longer welcome, even with his practiced smile, and she watched the door slide to a close.

She shook her head in disbelief. What more did she expect?

Returning to the cockpit, she found Beegee still hooked to the ship’s main console, keeping them steady through hyperspace.

“Is he always so moody?” she asked. It answered in a series of beeps that made her snort a laugh. “Thought so, but I guess I’m no better.” She left the droid to its devices and slumped back into her seat, kicking one foot onto the dashboard. She may have felt more comfortable in the confines of her own room, private and alone, but sleep eluded her like a phantom and tonight would be no different, not with Dima on her mind. She’d stay guard here.

She would wait until she returned home.

It was not long before they reached Nar Shaddaa. Once they slammed out of hyperspace, Karina spotted the ugly world overhead, its city lights teeming from the surface. For a planet that had suffered the worst of the AMS pandemic, it was finally starting to get back on its feet, what with the vaccine and the rise of new Syndicate crime lords in the aftermath of Durr’s death. The world was changing, and for better or worse she could not care any less. She’d only come for Kirigan and her brother. After that, she’d never see this godforsaken planet again.

They landed at a dockyard at the edge of the Slat District, a ward dominated by slums, spice gangs, and some of the worst roasted porg she’d ever tasted. But this was home. The gravity was harsh, yet familiar. The stench of grease thick, yet warm and strangely welcoming. Once she stepped off the Freebird, Karina planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the tangle of people and cargo around them. She craned back her neck, taking in the sights and smells of the underworld, and sighed.

“Gods, I fucking hate this place.”

Without bothering to elaborate further, Karina threw a hood over her helmet and continued down the gangway. “Try to keep up,” she told Crix, expecting him to follow. “And I’m sure you already know this, but don’t look around as if you’re some tourist. That is the fastest way to get your pockets picked.”

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix strode down the gangway feeling the weight of his weapons sway on his hips. He'd donned his helmet and preloaded the coordinates of their objective into his HUD. He'd chosen to put The Freebird far enough from the Wellspring that it wouldn't raise alarm, but close enough to make for a fast escape. Ines was ready and waiting.

They offered a warning, and Crix just nodded. He wasn't an idiot. He may have only just landed on Nar Shaddaa, but he'd frequented plenty of seedy sectors before making his way here. Allowing Ines to take point, Crix fell in behind. Using the cover of his visor to inspect his surroundings without giving the appearance of being a tourist.

The disdain of the assassin was understandable. Whatever allure The Smuggler's Moon may have once held was ravaged by the AMS outbreak. Vaccination stations filled the empty spaces of dying commercial locations. Did the Syndicate really not care? Wasn't Nar Shaddaa considered to be the jewel of Syndicate space? A Twi'lekki woman strode by carrying a naked epicantix curved sword and pulling along two infected with removed jaws behind her.

Guess that answered his question.

Doubt began to fill him. Not about the job he'd already agreed too, but about his end goal. Was he capable of distancing himself from who he was in order to obtain what he desired? Was that really what he wanted... was it what Mal wanted?

It didn't matter...

The neon glow of The Wellspring's holoprojected sign appeared on the horizon at the same time his HUD encircled and magnified the image. A scantily clad Zeltron flicked a credit chit into a well on repeat while the titular name of the gambling hall materialized across the bottom third of the projection. Crix flicked his guns to stun.

"Anything you need to tell me before things get rough?"

Crix was ready, but the seed of doubt sown during Ines' initial breakdown of the mission still remained.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“Nothing worth mentioning now. Just take it easy,” Karina answered. A voice in the back of her head told her this was foolish, that not explaining the situation with Dima would only make matters worse, but she didn’t remotely care. This was her business. Crix could bitch and whine all he wanted once he discovered the truth, but at the end of the day he’d be paid handsomely. Twice the original cut, too. Whatever it took to keep his silence once he dropped them off at the nearest spaceport outside of Syndicate space.

Although, she could kill him instead. Cut loose strings. Sure would be more economical that way.

But once Karina had her little brother, she was done. This life of killing would finally be over, and she would bury her past along with Kirigan’s freshly rotting corpse.

The Wellspring was like most clubs in the district: bright and ugly. A building surrounded by tenement housing and haloed in neon light, it looked like a gaudy peacock among a flock of chickens. The inside was no different. Once the bouncers let her and Crix pass, recognizing Karina's signature armor, she strode through the club’s flashy interior, looking about as disinterested as ever. Chandeliers hung suspended over card tables. Men and women laughed, smoked, and drank themselves silly, plied of their credits and dignity.

“Don’t get distracted,” she told Crix. Karina did not even have to look over her shoulder to guess he was probably checking out some of the staff, or the tables, for a chance to score big. That’s how most smugglers were, right? Gamblers and cheats.

She climbed up a spiral staircase until, at long last, came upon Kirigan’s private office. He must have been waiting for her, because the door swept open, his personal bodyguards letting her and Crix through, then slid closed.

His office, just as she remembered, was dripping with wealth. Paintings, so many paintings, wrapped the walls from top to bottom, and artifacts better suited for a museum exhibit lay collecting dust, including a lightsaber in mint condition and a full set of Mandalorian armor. But Kirigan? He sat at his lounge in the room’s center, sipping a glass of wine, an arm draped over his seat with all the casual grace of a cat.

“My dear Ines, welcome home,” he said, a smile curling his lip. “It’s been a long time since you last visited. I was afraid you’d run away again, but I’m glad to see you’ve returned—with a friend, too.” He snapped a finger, to which a female indenture answered by bringing an extra two glasses, filling them with honey-like wine. Gods, he’d always been so dramatic. “What is your name, my boy? What brings you to my humble abode?”

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Dolan's eye twitched at Ines' dismissal. The Smuggler was starting to think betrayal was in the air. Why else would the legendary assassin have paid him twice the fee? The Assassin's response put him on edge, and instinctively, he switched his weapons back to kill. He let Ines take the lead and kept both of his hands draped casually over the butts of his blasters.

The Wellspring was exactly what he expected: a gaudy den of iniquity. Scantily clad cocktail waitresses and intimidating bouncers were around every corner. The sharp chemical tang of spice lingered in the air and every patron had the same dead eyes of an addicted thrall. It was sad really. Existence was so rarely kind, and these people had chosen to gamble any chance of happiness one chit at a time. His thought was disrupted by Ines.

Crix, with effort, bit back his retort. He followed The Assassin up the spiral staircase where they were greeted by a few armed guards and were then ushered through a door that hissed closed behind them. The index finger on his left hand tapped the butt of his RSFK impatiently. If this wasn't a betrayal then it was a trap and neither truth felt good... On the bright side, he did a quick headcount and if he came out alive he stood to take home a substantial bonus provided things went south in here and Ines lived.

The room was opulent. Aside from the show of personnel, it was covered in artwork and artifacts. Crix's eyes lingered on a set of Mandalorian armor and decided to nick it, if he could. In the center of the room, a slender man with angular features sipped a glass of honied wine while hungrily observing their entrance. Crix had no doubt in his mind that this man was the Eye of Shadaa, Kirigan.

The Smuggler paid close attention to the tone Kirigan used when addressing Ines. There was something authoritative about it almost like a father chastising a rambunctious kid, instead of a ruthless crime lord reprimanding a subordinate. The ambiguity of their relationship was the crux of Crix's paranoia.

Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Kirigan offered him a glass of wine, which he denied, just before he was asked his name.

"Damon Kross, a friend of Ines and I'm just here to gamble," he said as the tapping he'd been doing on the butt of his blaster came to a stop. The tension in the room was thick. Pinpricks of sweat dotted the foreheads of Kirian's personal guard and each of them was as trigger-happy as Crix was.

"Damon Kross you say, that's an interesting name. I like names that start with a "D," his gaze flicked to Ines, and the fury that hid just below the surface shown through as he said, "Please enlighten me, Ines, since your lackey doesn't seem to know why you're here."

Kirigan sipped his wine adding, "Do be quick about it."

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“Kirigan, we both know what it is I’m here for,” said Karina, her expression blank, but even with her modulator she could feel the unease in her voice. She had to tread lightly. “I’ve served you loyally for the last twelve years. Never complained. Never argued. I’ve killed so many of your enemies I’ve lost count. But I haven’t come all this way to ask for your gratitude or respect.”

She leaned forward, mustering her confidence for what she planned to say next: “Where is Dima?”

Kirigan stared at her for a long moment, blinking. Was it shock she registered on his face? Surprise? Karina was not quite sure, not until he lifted his head back and broke into laughter. She flinched as he clapped his hands in mock applause, dark eyes glinting like chips of black glass. “Very moving, Ines. I’m sure you’ve been rehearsing that one for a while.”

Kirigan slicked back his hair and relaxed more comfortably into his seat. “But just because you brought a friend and a couple extra knives does not make your argument any more convincing. You’re a good spider, Ines. My best. Why would I ever want to give you up?”

“I’m not asking for retirement,” she said, her voice as sharp as a blade begging to draw blood. “I will stay and continue to serve you until the day I die. I will do whatever it is you need, but I want to be sure Dima is okay. I need him to be okay.” And she did, but once Kirigan told her where he was, she wouldn’t hesitate to lodge a knife in his heart.

“Oh, Ines,” he cooed. “For a cold-blooded killer, you sure seem to care a lot about him. But I get it. Family comes first.” He set down his drink and the look in his eyes made her skin crawl. “How about this? I will tell you where Dima is—no, I’ll show you where he is—but first, you kill Mister Kross here.” Kirigan waved offhandedly to Crix, as if the request was nothing more than a refill of his wine.

She paused. “What?”

Kirigan rolled his eyes. “Come on. Did you really think I could be this easily outwitted? You may be my spider, Ines, but I’ve been spinning webs long before you even drew breath. I know why you’re really here. You don’t just want to see Dima. You want to rescue him—to whisk him off to some backwater meadow for the both of you to frolic in for the rest of your days. That’s why you brought your ‘friend’ Damon, so he could help you kill my guards and smuggle you two off Nar Shaddaa.”

He breathed another laugh. “I mean, really, what did you expect? For me to tell you exactly where your brother is so you could slit my throat right after?”

“That’s not—”

“It’s okay, Ines. I am a forgiving man. I’m willing to pretend this never happened—in fact, I’ll even let you see Dima again, but first you get rid of the pest you’ve invited into my house. Prove your loyalty to me again, and then we can talk. But if you decide to go through with this, if you lay so much as a finger on me, I would hate to think what might happen to your poor dear brother.” Karina froze. It had to be a ruse. A bluff.

But if he knew about her plans from the start, then it had to be the truth. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Crix. His blaster, his trigger finger. She couldn’t seriously be thinking about this—and yet, she was.

@Zay