The Hyperion (Open, Freeform RP)

Skursir wouldn't say he was abandoned, but the silence between him and his drink was only the product of Renia's depature to talk to the Falleen. Adament that he shouldn't get bored, Skursir decided to look around.

A man in around with a helmet slung under his arm was drinking a beverage. He was obviously a warrior, either a trooper off duty of a bounty hunter after a day's hunting. The man was probably aggressive and after the night's fighting and running, Skursir didn't feel up to any more action. It would be best to just play the safe cards.

The bodyguard was leading Typho and Rasper into a private booth. Skursir raised an eyebrow "Perhapss she iss trying to sseal the deal from her angle". Skursir chuckled to himself and wished her luck, that woman would need it if she would try and get Dante back in the deal. Maybe it was something else though. Maybe something was going deadly wrong with the relationship between the Commission and the Agency. Or maybe it was a completely different deal.

Skursir turned his attentions to a twi'lek who was at the bar and was downing Juma Juices at an alarming rate. This man was probably his safest bet for a chat. Skursir approached him and sat at the stool next to the twi'lek. "Any more juicess and you'll be as high as on giggledust". Skursir laughed, "Where do you hail from sstranger?"

Vasha blinked and slowly averted his eyes from his near empty glass towards the Trandoshan. He nodded and made an abrupt gesture with his hand, almost spilling the remains of his drink.

"As a spacer I'm hailing from a little bit of everywhere - though now, without ship, I'm tied to this giant scrap hole for a while. Pazaak issues, don't ask. Not that I mind staying in the city of decadence; I just like the feeling to be able to leave whenever I want." The twi'lek grinned humorlessly, and scratched one of his lekku. "Name is Twi Lom, by the way. Drink?" he asked while reaching for his credit chip.

"Pleasse" Skursir replied with a scaley smile. He had met a lot of spacers and most of them were indeed either human, twi'lek or rodian. They were common races it had to be said and Skursir didn't mind any of them, though there were some strange rumours about each one. Humans evolved from wookies. Rodians reproduced asexually. Twi'leks had some of their brain in their head-tails. It was all nonsense.

"I'm Sskurssir," Skursir started, stretching his right arm then placing it onto the counter, "Coruscantss not really nice, you go futher down and it'ss all sslums, probably due to the attack". He remembered to when he was chasing his mark, he had gone through several tunnels littered with homeless people sleeping in cardboard boxes. Had he not have been armoured and running he may have been subject to pickpocketing.

"I tell you one thing though, there'ss sstill plenty of buissness oppurtunitiess here. The Republic want to clean up criminalss, the Ssith want to harass the Republic ssome more. It'ss good money Twi'Lom."

"Business sounds good. I don't like to be involved in anything... violent, though. I'm a pilot, not a mercenary." Mirellu Vasha sips from his Juma juice, slowly now.

"Not a really good pilot, mind you. You won't never hear *me* say that I'm the best pilot of this or that quadrant. Not like those dogfighter veterans who nowadays spend their time in decrepit cantinas, boring their audiences with boastful stories of their brilliant moves and runs. I pity them. I won't win any prizes, but at the end of the day I always get away, if you know what I mean, eh. I'm a survivor, and that's what I'm good at. Surviving."

The Twi'lek glances at Skursir. "You seem a bit of a survivor yerself, Skursir. What's your business, if I may ask?" Before the Trandoshan could answer, Vasha posed him a new question. "Hm. You said something about the Sith operating here, on Coruscant? I've had my fair dealings with all kinds of Sith, and although they pay good, you always feel you're conned in the end. What the heck are they looking for in this scrapyard?"

Skursir gave a grin, one which revealed his teeth, but this was far from an aggressive display. "Although mosst of Corusscant wass indeed levelled, my friend, many pocketss esscaped disstruction". Skursir paused for a sip of his Juma juice. "Thesse pocketss sstill contain important people - people that the Ssith can't get to becausse of the relative peace... If the Ssith hire a bounty hunter and keep the contract ssecret then they can disstance themsselvess from the crime."

Skursir clasped his claws and placed them on the counter, "I pride in being ssuch a bounty hunter - my people are warriorss, my grandfather wass even a temple guard". He narrowed his eyes for a moment. The twi'lek surely didn't know the great honour it was to be a temple guard, but Skursir let it there. "Sso who you sserve, Twi'Lom?"

Leaning back on her chair Aleena pondered over the two GTC members for a moment. She'd not seen the negociations break down upstairs but if she were to guess, she would suspect it had more to do with the wildcard 'Dante' than either of the two she was speaking with now. She decided to give them the benefit of the doubt on such mundane questions.

"As you probably know Commander, there is no set income on items such as narcotics, they are not a domestic commodity which has a set market. Supply and demand ebbs and flows, when there is more call for the substances the price goes up and we fluctuate how much we sell."

In response to Rapser's interjection, she raised an eyebrow.

"I assumed your organisation already trafficed in such goods, it is why I came to yourselves in the first place. Am I mistaken in my assumption? with an organisation with a reputation as great as yours I assumed this would be a simple arrangement, an 'easy money' deal."

"Am I to understand that you do not already work in the narcotics trade? I hope there has not been a misunderstanding, but what I was proposing was that EPOCH work to ensure that your..."goods" meet no resistance in this, or surrounding sectors. We were under the impression that you were already in the trade; we were offering our support in the clearing of border patrols, accumilation and distribution. In short, you get the spice, we'll make sure you get a good profit on it."

"As you probably know Commander, there is no set income on items such as narcotics, they are not a domestic commodity which has a set market. Supply and demand ebbs and flows, when there is more call for the substances the price goes up and we fluctuate how much we sell."

"You said it yourself, though. We'd plan on smuggling these drugs to certain Core Worlds where the request for those substances is quite high at the moment. And you stated that your Agents can get "as much as eighty-percent of the substances' usual value." I think with that intel that you'd be able to inform me of the income for the first month at least, Aleena. I guess not..."

Typho grunted and consulted his wrist-comp for a few moments. He soon finished, and looked up once more to address the Sith Lady.

"As I said previously, we have our hands in nearly every sort of criminal opportunities. Racketeering, kidnapping, bounties, and of course, spice smuggling. Now, as I am a Trooper, and one of the firepower boys, I am not so experienced in the knowledge of smuggling. That would probably be more along the lines of the Blue Vigo's work. The thing that interests me most is the fact that we could get our own operatives to... protect smuggling runs, and reap 100% of the profit. I don't to sound rude or anything with that matter. However, I do realise that using our men to protect our fly-boys would put us at a disadvantage, with having less able and ready men to undertake certain other missions. I can see the benefit in both our organisations for having your Agents protecting our operatives. You get a nice profit, we have protection, and we also have more operatives ready to take part in other field work."

The Grey Vigo stopped for a moment, and glanced at Rasper, his face expressionless underneath his combat helmet.

"I think that this transaction would be greatly beneficial for both our... businesses. Count us in."

Mirellu Vasha studied the trandoshan with renewed interest. It was not often he'd had the pleasure to meet a scalyface who was so deliberate and civilized as this one. In a way it was reassuring to hear that Skursir had taken up the infamous trade of bountyhunter, and - so the twi'lek concluded - was hiding his inherently savage nature below a thin layer of civilized discourse. When one has little in depth knowledge of the world, some good old prejudices are the best means to secure survival.

"In the end we all serve ourselves, eh," The twi'lek winked at the bountyhunter, a habit he had unconsciously inherited from humans spacers in his youth. "But I guess you asked about my current employers. Anyway, my former employers, as I'm currently unemployed - or rather, looking for work." Vasha grinned. "I've worked for them for quite some time. They were a Sith cabal of sorts. Done some peculiar jobs for them during the war. Mostly transport of persons and things. Secret stuff, I guess, both for the eyes of the Republic and the Empire."

The smuggler shrugged. "Anyroad, for some reason they decided my services were not needed any longer, paid me a handsome amount of credits, and that's that. I was planning on buying back my ship... but that didn't work out as planned." The twi'lek looked at his now empty glass. "Spacespit, I drink too quickly."

Skursir thought as much, a fellow Bounty Hunter. "Well, I don't sserve mysself in it'ss entirity..." He nodded over towards the hooded figure across the room, the Falleen. "I am of the EPOCH agency, he hass a loosse hold on uss, but when he callss, we ansswer". Skursir hoped that the explanation who be enough. But the story about the Sith cabal intrigued him. He was naturally interested in different cultures and knew that there was indeed trechary among the Sith, especially in the hierarchy - but never knew that they fragmented into factions.

"Thiss Cabal," Skursir began, returning attention to the topic, "Who are they and what are they?" He hoped that the Twi'lek had enough knowledge to answer his queries...

As he walked into The Hyperion with his hood still up, the Kaleesh looked around. His black Kath cloak draging behind him, he walked to the bar "Meltdown." lowering the hood and runing his hand over the rag tied around his left eye, Darth'Ishad turned his head to the left noticing a Trandoshan and a twi'lek talking. The Twi'lek looked oddly familar, not able to put his finger on it Darth'Ishad looked to his drink and drank it all letting out a hiss as he finished. He lifted his hand implying he wanted another and set a stack of creddits on the bar.

"EPOCH eh?" Mirellu gave Skursir a glazed look and shrugged little. "Can't say I've heard about them bountyhunters, but then I've been away from the core worlds for some time. Are they big players here? Can imagine they are. I mean, post-war times are always a good moment to settle personal scores, and revenge pays well. Transport on the other hand..." The twi'lek shakes his head.

"It all happens too fast. Things get rebuilt, governments try to take control again, civilization returns. The room to maneuver decreases with each Republican law enforcement. They want to set an example, you know. Catch some low-lifes and petty crooks, show the public they're restoring the good old Republic, bring order, and what else. Unfortunately..." Vasha made a wide gesture with his hand, realizing he was blabbering, probably due to the Juma juice. He was on a roll however, and it was hard to stop. He nodded at Skursir, as if the Trandoshan had said something he approved of.

"Now the Sith aren't much better than the Republicans, mind you. In fact, from the point of view of my trade, they're even worse. While the Republic wants order and justice to prevail, it's quite incapable to deliver these virtuous values. The law has to lean on the bureaucracy, and every bureaucrat has its price. And if you get caught, a good lawyer is sure to find some loopholes in Republican justice. Yet on the other hand, the system works good enough to prevent destructive gang wars or crime taking over the galaxy. So, it's a bit the best of both worlds, actually." The smuggler scratched one of his lekku, and frowned. He felt a faint tingling feeling in his spine and neck, as if a Corellian cockroach just ran over it.

"Where was I... Oh yeah, the Sith. Well, they're interesting employers in time of war, I reckon. Paying well and on time. They're efficient and ruthless. Yet, imagine a galaxy only managed by the Empire. If the state itself is the biggest criminal, there's no place for crime from below, if you know what I'm driving at. Eh? If everybody becomes a back-stabbing murdering bastard, nobody is a bastard. The only thing which stands between the Sith and their complete dominion is their internal fragmentation, you see..."

Before Mirellu finishes his sentences, his eyes dwell a second on the Kaleesh which entered the room. The pale white skin of the twi'lek turns a little greenish, and he ducks away behind the Trandoshan. "Spacespit, there's one of them, them Sith cabal!"

Skursir listened to his new friend intently, sipping away at his Juma Juice. It had become apparent that he had stumbled upon some lost jem to politics, or at least a good minded opinionist. Skursir had no real knowledge of the economy, so far as his own pockets and what he bought was concerned. He did know something about politics though and it came with his interest of culture. It was always nice to hear another viewpoint, but the Juiced seemed to have started it's effect with the Twi'lek and the once relatively reserved spacer became the Presidant of a Political Party.

It was of no iritation to Skursir though, he understood what the Twi'lek said but when Skursir wanted to chip into the conversation, his friend changed the subject slightly. Even if this wasn't a polite conversation Skursir wouldn't have interupted, he didn't feel like he had the energy after the failed negotiations. Instead, he absorbed what Twi'lom was saying, noticing him scratch at his lekku. "Hmm. I wonder what purpose those head-tails serve" He thought, but then his mind snapped back to the subject.

Suddenly, the Twi'lek looked over Skursir's shoulder, his face flashed to surprise and he ducked down. "Spacespit, there's one of them, them Sith cabal!".

If Skursir was skilled at stealth and subtelty, he wouldn't of made the mistake he did. He turned around to see what had horrified Twi'lom. Nothing particularly stood out apart from a man wrapped in a black cloak. His dress instantly spoke out a Sith Warrior. It was then that their eyes met. His face was hidden behind some form of tribal mask, but his eyes were plainly visible. Of some unearthly colour they sent an aura of authority to him. Skursir could do little but give a faint nod in his direction before turning back to the Twi'lek.

"He'ss sseen uss..."

Darth'Ishad set down his second glass and stood up, he then walked over to the two siting a little down from him and rested his hand on the Twi'lek's shoulder. "Its been a while since the last time i saw you." Even with his mask covering his face you could tell he was grining, "Well are you going to introduce me?" He then looked over to the Trandoshan, his crimson stained yellow eye met with the Trandoshan and he nodded his head.

Taking a deep breath, Charada entered the Hyperion, as calm as the man was, He never enjoyed being in a bar, He was more of the lone wolf type. As he entered, He located the bar and had a seat, the mission was simple, Gather up intel on the local affairs and use it to the greatest advantage.

As he went past the scanners, he wasn't afraid if the scanners would detect several of his illegal goods. He had one advantage, He had a universal jammer in the suitcase and therefore the scanners wouldn't mention a thing.

Charada was always well prepared, Equipped with a Simcronic Magnaforce security shield and slicer tools and he had a fear stick just in case something went overboard.

Sitting down near a table on the top floor, Charada started his datapad and scanned several people around, after all, the one with the most illegal equipment except him, could be a contender.

Mirellu gasped and produced the faintest of smiles. "Yyyes, my Lord, how perceptive of you. I have done some missions for your... eh organization. The name is Twi'Lom, as you'll remember."

The twi'lek bit his lip and then, sounding hopefully, he continued: "But perhaps you do not recall much of it, Sir, as most of my assignments were under the supervision of Lord Mulnor, as he had... obtained my ship."

The smuggler glanced at Skursir. "This is Skursir, one of the regulars here in the Hyperion, it seems. Skursir meet Lord Darth'Ishad." Mirellu had never known the precise nomenclature nor the position of the leaders of this Cabal within Sith society, but he'd always chosen to be on the safe side and name them Lord and Sir and Elder whenever he'd had the feeling that it would be appropriate. He knew little of the kaleesh in front of him, but enough to fear him for the savage beast he was, a warrior through and through, without mercy or moral boundaries. He could only guess for the Sith's reasons to be here. Vasha did not like surprises nor coincidences, especially if they were of the unpleasant type.

His brows furrowed into a vexed frown as he watched the woman hurry away. After overhearing her conversation with her apparent employer, Eamonn understood she was following her professional initiative by leaving so abruptly. She hadn’t been asked mind, and she’d been quick to fob him off on someone else. Still, deciding it was better to make an impression on the top dog rather than waste time on a peon, he let the insult drop.
    He turned to face the tall and imposing alien at the bar. Keel had never met a Falleen before but he had heard tales of the mysterious race. They were meant to be a cold and emotionless species. This one appeared agitated. Keel smiled inwardly, his confidence returning. Seems like a Falleen was much like any other big fish in a small pond, and Keel had swam in some pretty sh**ty ponds in his time. They all want the same thing though; he’d said it himself. Professionalism.
    Eamonn knew this game and chose to take his cue from the vanished Aleena Fell. Respect and deference would put him in good stead. Keel assumed the Falleen hadn’t expected to talk to anyone who might have overheard his previous comments. Often men who exposed themselves to strangers resented those who, through no fault of their own, witnessed such things they perhaps weren’t supposed to. He had two options. Ignore what he had heard and pretend he was temporarily deaf or acknowledge the less than desirable awkward introduction and move forward. He chose the latter.
    ”This is an unexpected honour” Keel inclined his head respectfully to the Falleen. ”If you’re having a spot of bother, perhaps I could offer you my own help? I can assure you of a discreet and competitively priced service”

"Dont look so scared, im here on personal buisness i heard about this place and thought id check it out." Darth'Ishad cracked his neck then stuck his hand out to the Trandoshan "the pleasure is mine."

The alien was of an exotic race, and seemed to have an equally exotic manner, at least judging by the Sith that Skursir had previously met - which was not many as his relations usually went with the Empire's military branch. Still, it was common for different sects to have different values and manners, but it still came with some surprise when he was offered a hand.

Skursir shook the man's hand with a friendly appeal, "Pleassed to meet your acquaintance Lord Darth'Isshad" He was slightly intimdated by the alien's dark aura, but didn't let it hinder his speech at all. "Perhapss you would like to ssit with uss?" He motioned towards a chair and in the next instance, made a jesture to a serving droid to bring another round of drinks.

Before the Sith could react, Skursir followed up with a question, "I believe we have another of your kind here, a woman, perhaps you can ssensse her?"

Mirellu Vasha leaned back against the bar, unconsciously widening the distance between him and the kaleesh.

The Sith had recognized him, but he went with his false name. Perhaps he'd fallen for it, or he decided to play the game along. Who knew? In any case, it was unwise for the smuggler to spend much time with any member of that cabal. He had not been completely frank towards Skursir when he'd told him about his dealings with the Sith sect. Sure, they had an amicable and profitable relation during the war, but only a few years after the treaty a bigger fish came along and offered a more interesting business proposal. Although they always were on their guard with non-members and they'd never really trusted him, Vasha had been able to obtain the item his new boss had asked for.

He still remembered it vividly. It was on a night when he'd brought Lord Mulnor - acting *again* as his personal pilot - to the excavation site on Korriban which seemed to be the headquarters of the cabal. When he'd delivered the Sith home, and prepared the Easy Lightning for take-off, a nasty dust storm set in - just like his new master had foretold him. Although they were Sith, the cabalists were not unkind in their way, and the elder man, who seemed to be one of the leaders of the pack offered him a place to stay. Luckily neither Lord Vaelyndor nor the kaleesh was there at the time. He feared the savage kaleesh and couldn't stand the interrogating eyes of Vaelyndor, even though he seemed magnanimous on all occasions.

The elder guy, called Sharasvar Zia, was a historian or archaeologist of some sorts, and seemed quite harmless on the few occasions he'd met him, although the rest of the group respected his authority and judgement. Anyway, after a short meeting with this Sharasvar bloke, Mulnor retreated to his quarters. Vasha pretented to do the same. He waited a few hours, then slipped outside his room.

Although the smuggler was quick with a pistol he knew he wouldn't stand a chance against one of the Sith when they caught him, so he had to rely on his stealth. Moving silently, he sneaked through some corridors, opened a door to his left and right, until he entered the room with the computer console he'd noticed when Sharasvar had shown him his room. A few hacking attempts later showed him the location of the object he was looking for, a small box with strange glyphs in the form of a pyramid.

When Vasha went on his way to the sealed part of the library which contained the box, his lekku tingled, a feeling of being watched. The smuggler wasn't force sensitive at all, but his intuition and survival instinct made up for any mystical energy field. He hold his breath and kept still as the seconds ticked away. Nothing. The smuggler shrugged and was on his way again. Now came the most daring part. If he'd blow now, the Sith would know there was something amiss and send their lackeys after them. The chance that one of them would need the object next morning was close to nil, or so his boss had assured him.

So Mirellu kept his cool and went back to his quarters with the small box, hid it in his pack, and stretched himself with beating heart onto his bed. Next morning he said his goodbyes and thanks, cashed in Mulnor's payment and was on his way to the core worlds to deliver his package. That didn't end all too well, but that was another story of fleeing, hiding, and taking on different names.

Anyway, time passed and he heard nothing more of the cabal. Perhaps they knew he had stolen their little pyramid, or not. Vasha didn't care, as long as they left him alone. And now he stood before the vicious kaleesh. He looked left and right and pondered on an excuse to leave his current company as fast as possible. Violence in the Hyperion would not be tolerated, and he took some comfort in that. He would need a ship pronto to get of this scrapyard of a planet. But first things first, get out of the bar and to a star port alive...

He nods "yes i sense her" feeling the fear coming from the Twi'lek his eye never looked away, even while talking to Skursir, " and yes id love to have another drink." He then sat between the two, "so Twi'lom is it? what brings you around here?" he craked his neck -Somthing about him is off, if i were you id watch him-

Skursir gave a quick glance at Twi'lom. The spacer seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes showed that he was in deep thought but scared. What relationship did he have with the Sith? Had it been right to invite him to the bar? This was dismissed though with Skursir's interest into the Sith Lord's powers and decided to take advantage of the alien's relative politeness to perhaps forge a possible friendship and find out more about his superior.

Skursir leaned closer, "What can you tell me about the woman..?"

"I can only feel her strenght, other then that i dont know what to tell you." Looking around at the different people feeling all kinds of feelings, the one that stood out the most to him was the Twi'lek next to him. The hunter could smell the fear a mile away, "What is it you are here for?" he asked the Trandoshan. -Somthing is being hiden from you, just in case watch them both-

Skursrir leaned on the bar, now in his element. "Well, I came here to, as you ssay, sspread out after a hard day of work. When I got here though I wass faced with a business oppurtunity. It didn't go well and I thought that the besst way to.. recooperate... wass to conversse with people - and here I am".

Skursir deemed himself as straight-talking, but as he had already made the mistake of mentionning weapons in public, he didn't want to make the same mistake. Instead, he left it at that and changed the subject. "And your reasson for coming, Lord?" Skursir took no notice of Twi'lom, focussed only on the alien Sith.

Disappointed that the tough-looking trandoshan did not make any attempt to get rid of the company of the kaleesh, Mirellu Vasha slowly stepped away from the bar. He knew he couldn't get out of the bar without the Sith following him, so he had to look for another means to escape, a back door which led out of this joint.

"Well, Skursir, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'm gonna try my luck with the pazaak tables upstairs, perhaps we'll bump into each other again. And if not, I wish you success with your endeavors." The smuggler briefly nodded at the kaleesh - "My lord" - and walked towards the stairs which led to the gaming floor.

Skursir made acknowledgement of the smuggler. "And you Twi'lom, it's been a pleassure" He grinned, "May we meet again ssoon..."

He turned back to the alien, "Continue.."