One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

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Blitzkrieg
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One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2011-08-31 05:18

Firro. It was perhaps the most disgusting hive of scum and villainy in the known galaxy...worse than Tattooine's infamous Mos Eisley spaceport by a longshot. Something about the place exuded an air of mistrust, of underhandedness, duplicity, and deceit. Many people who scurried about the station knew that, and among that group, far too many of the station's law enforcement were counted among their numbers. It was definitely not a place for the meek, though they, too, crowded aboard the station in hopes of finding something...

For the man in one of the dark corners on the 666th floor, that 'something' was an ideal he could only guess at...and he hadn't the time to play guessing games. Wolfgang sighed, checking his chrono calmly as he moved into the main foyer. He was traveling as a civilian and private Imperial citizen, and had flashed an old ID to the guards at the hangar, generated a few hours before his trip to the marketplace by the ISIS. It listed his date of service, along with an old retirement date that allowed him to pass for non-military. The name was phony, of course; his return to the NIF had already become public enough a fact that he couldn't rely on the idea of using his real previous retirement. His attire for the trip matched with the expectations of a civilian...at least, as much as he could work with while still maintaining some measure of combat effectiveness. A pair of loose-fitting black pants, chosen for freedom of movement, were secured by a belt that carried a loaded gun holster. The Kashan Industries XT-1 in the holster had been scrubbed clean of all marks that could identify the weapon's production run and ownership records, and a fake serial number had been grafted onto it to go along with the permit issued for it by the ISIS. Also strapped to the belt was a buckle-mounted personal shield generator, sufficient to last a few shots before it was completely useless. To supplement that, the high-colonel had put some light ballistics armor under his shirt. While the armor would do little to nothing against a blaster shot, there were still other assaults to consider, and it didn't hurt to be prepared. A black leather trenchcoat draped down over him, reaching down almost to the soles of his combat boots, and a roots-deep hair dye session and quick shave had turned the aging-yet-refined man into a rather well-kept young man.

For the first person he was supposed to meet aboard the marketplace station that day, it was a perfect image: blond hair, blue eyes--thank the stars for color-tinted contact lenses--and a measure of discernible lethality under a coordinated, fashionable package. He just hoped the Zeltron woman would show up soon...there was much work to be done, and much of a foundation to lay for what he hoped to achieve.

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Diri Tiberia
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Diri Tiberia » 2011-08-31 16:53

The Firro, one of the most opulent places to shop though Diri did prefer more neutral places as the Firro was hardly a true shadowport by any stretch of the imagination. Any place that crawled with Federation stormtroopers- or New Republic soldiers for that matter- was hardly befitting of such a prestigious title in her mind. Still, the goods and services that this place offered were top notch and of the exacting quality that would make such a military superpower proud the only problem was everything only ever came in shades of white or black. That's Imps for ya, a whole lot of color-blind and no daring to try something flashier. It has to be said though that if they left Diri in charge of colour coordination, the whole lot of them would go colour blind, or at least be trying to claw out their eyes.

Reaching the indicated level, the Zeltron walked with a casual flair, a little wiggle in her step as she caught the eyes of passers by, winking at the attractive ones in her usual playfully seductive manner, her mind beaming as she sensed the sudden changes in emotions from those who gazed upon her. The galaxy was a stage and she was the star actress and so long as there were credits to be had, Diri would continue to play the game and have fun doing it, after all, life was too short to spend languishing away in one place for long, unless that place was Zeltros, then she could make an exception. Still, when the galaxy at large had so much to offer to someone like her, it felt remiss of her to pass it up. After all, the Feds weren't about to go superlasering that world for no reason and pretty much every single occupying force that had ever tried to invade was quickly subverted, brainwashed in a way, to either leave or stick around and help protect the world they had once sought to take over. It was perhaps that reason why the Empire had all but completely ignored the world during its reign. They didn't bother the Empire and the Empire didn't bother them so long as the tithes were paid, such a luxury rich world generating billions in wealth.

Otherwise Zeltros had little strategic value. No shipyards and very few weapons manufacturing facilities to speak of. A couple random Zeltron artisans were keen to make beautifully crafted killing instruments, usually small scale things. Other factories worked on sporty speeders, or elegant ship designs that could give the Mon Cals a run for their credits though, without shipyards, most of the designs were only ever taken up by rich corporate types who could afford to buy both the plans and then acquire the resources to produce the vessel themselves. Diri wouldn't mind a fashionable ship like some of the ones she had seen before, the well decorated interiors making them look like a five diamond resort hotel room than any of the more practical (which were usually just that, practical and very sparse and ugly looking) rooms commonly found aboard most ships, the Megaera included. Which is precisely why I had my room decorated.

As she walked past the myriad of shops, Diri continued to window-shop, as she had been doing since arriving here to meet her mysterious contact who had contacted her only a couple days prior, giving her little more than a time, location and the promise of credits. Like a moth to the flame, Diri was easily lured out and while the thought had occurred to her that it might be some of Lorga's bounty hunters, the fact that they chose a public place like this made her question just how green these potential bounty hunters would have been. Surely a place on Nar Shaddaa or Tattooine would have been a lot less conspicuous to abduct someone. Well, if it does happen to be a bunch of novices, I'll be more than happy to teach them a thing or two... Diri bit her lower lip as the corners curled upwards at the pleasurable thought.

Reaching the place, Diri tried to recall the only other thing the message had said, the description of the person she was looking for. She knew it wasn't going to be either of the one-eyed dynamic duo, they both had their preferred meeting places, Red Jack aboard his flagship and Lucie down on Tralus. The Zeltron had worked with a number of people but this didn't match the m.o. of anyone she had previous met so it only gave more credence that this was a bounty hunter trap.

That, or my reputation is starting to spread. That made her giddy with excitement as it meant she was now starting to make it big. Better reputation meant better jobs and better jobs meant more credits! And we all know what more credits mean! she thought, her mind flashing a few outfits she had passed by that looked particularly trendy and flattering.

Walking inside the establishment, Diri couldn't help but wonder why people always picked bars or food establishments as meeting places? Why never a big-box store or even a small outlet? Did people always assume she wanted to eat, which, admittedly she could thanks to the heightened metabolism common to all Zeltrons, allowing them to eat the richest foods and not gain a pound. Bars weren't so bad as it meant she could drink along with the potential employer which meant, if she was lucky, she could get him drunk enough, disarming the man by consuming twice the amount he would drink thanks to having two livers and once he was no longer in a position of full, coherent thought, she could squeeze a few extra credits for the job. A tried and true tactic if ever there was one and she always got it in writing, contract law something no one could argue against, especially when the deals and agreements forged were already shaky in the eyes of the law to begin with.

Glancing around, her eyes fluttered to the various individuals who sat around randomly, some of them cradling drinks, others just there for conversation, forging their own secretive agreements in hushed whispers while the blaring of a holovid announced today's top stories. These days, the news was full of stuff about the recent bacta shortages caused by the conflict on Thyferra and the latest story was talking about the increased levels of pirate attacks.

"With bacta prices going through the roof," the voice of the news anchor said, her voice full of that forced emotion as though she really couldn't care less about the story and was simply doing her job, "Convoys and transports baring the valuable healing agent are coming under more persistent pirate raids and even storage facilities and distribution centers such as those on Chandrila are being raided despite efforts by both the New Imperial Federation and New Republic to defend their interests. With tensions between the two nations already boiling over, private security firms are being contracted out to defend the vessels and storage facilities and even hospitals where increased break-and-enters have created an even higher demand.

"With me now is Doctor Argon from the Thyferrian university. Doctor, we all know this shortage is going to be felt across the galaxy but how bad is it going to be for the people?"

The holo switched from the middle-aged woman who had far too many crows-feet in the corners of her eyes for even the best makeup to hide to a more elderly and balding man, his head so shiny, the glare alone increased the lighting level in the bar noticeably. "Well, with both the Federation and Republic renewing their hostilities, it means they're going to be taking priority to the existing bacta stores and the limited production there is. This means places like hospitals and clinics, places that serve the public, are going to be forced to either shell out more credits to keep their own stocks maintained or they're going to have to start rationing it, using their limited supplies on the most critical patients who stand the best chance at survival. Furthermore-"

Diri, finally spotting her contact, tuned out the story, hardly caring about the economics and pithy troubles about the rest of the galaxy. Though raiding transports sounded like a good idea, a liter of bacta already worth five times as much this time a month ago, she was no pirate nor did she want to go down that path. Yes, she could be successful at it, but when someone boarded your ship with hostile intent, or even just the intent to steal, it really didn't matter how alluring you looked or how many pheromones you emitted, the reaction was going to be quite negative and then there would be the people expecting that cargo she'd have to answer to, and with her luck, it would be the Feds and they had just gotten over her little kidnapping charge, removing the bounty from her head (at a hefty loss of credits it has to be noted) so, in the end, it just didn't seem worth it. And don't get me started about having to worry about a crew... Having to divide up the credits with them... Worry about things like food, water... No, not worth it.

That was one thing she loved about Squeaks, her faithful little R3-series astromech droid. He only ever needed routine maintenance, a good cleaning now and then and a lot of love, which was never in short supply (much to his chagrin). In return, she got company and a skilled mechanic who knew his way around repairing just about anything that could ever go wrong and the two of them could probably fix up a damaged junk and get it flying in half the time it took a professional mechanic, or so she liked to think. Plus, having a droid able to slice his way into locked rooms faster than she could with the little pocket slicing tools has saved her pretty pink skin more times than she could recall.

Approaching the man already seated, she noted his blond hair and blue eyes after noting his outfit. It was very conservative, black with black and more black which contrasted well against the hair and eyes though Diri was really getting tired of seeing black. Nevermind some fashion shows were flaunting it, calling it the "new black", she was still waiting for yellows, oranges and reds to become the next "in" colour. Smiling pleasantly at the man, she shook his hand when he got up to introduce himself, her green eyes flickering down to his belt where his gun and personal shield generator were sitting. "I need to get me one of those," she said, her green eyes flicking back up as her smiling face was framed by her long, wavy red-auburn hair. Sitting back down, the contrast of outfits amused her as she was wearing her usual neon-green and yellow sleeveless top and bright blue pants, a Epel'jaken-series blaster pistol hanging from her white utility belt (she owns a black one but, because of the new fashion trend, Diri bought herself a white one just to stick it to the morons who, as she puts it, "Wouldn't know fashion if they spent three years in a Zeltros fashion festival.")

Staring into his eyes, Diri noticed the contact lenses but made no mention of them, easily assuming he had weak eyes and couldn't be bothered with laser surgery or other treatment options. He wasn't bad looking either way, and she rested her elbow on the table and her cheek on a hand, letting herself get lost in his eyes for a moment. "I think brown and blue would suit you more. I'd exchange that coat for a refund if I were you." It was a friendly piece of (as she would probably claim) professional advice. Letting herself frown just a little, sensing that he wasn't here to make small chat, she sighed and said, "But I suppose you didn't bring me all the way here to assess your wardrobe..."
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Blitzkrieg
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2011-09-07 05:31

Wolfgang scowled, sitting once the handshake was over and waiting patiently for the Zeltron woman to stop her blathering on fashion. He hadn't come here for that, and would have risen and left the room straight away once it started, if not for the glaring truth: he needed the support more than his intolerance for such idle chatter would be able to endure. It was already going to be a long day, he could easily tell. The only distinct ray of light in his immediate future was that the ISIS had assured him in their background check that the woman was well-motivated by credits; that had led him to believe that this would be a very short sell: explain the basics of the proposed work agreement, offer money on a job-to-job basis, and get the Hell out before she tries using the pheromones. Truth be told, he wasn't worried about the pheromones, insofar as they applied to him. Naturally, they'd have an effect, and there was a double-edged sword of sorts in his lupine half: he had the fierce will of the beast to ward him against it, but the beast would also be able to smell them far more closely, resulting in a far greater chance to be influenced by them, even if remotely. This, however, was not a worry for him; what worried him was what would happen if others were affected by the damned things.

Shaking his head, he tried to force himself to the task at hand. He wanted to be out of there...and the sooner he was out and on with the rest of his recruiting, the sooner he could stop worrying about a bar full of people all chemically influenced to the sway of someone else. It was bad enough when there was money involved in their loyalty; when it didn't have to be used to assure said loyalty...that's what made it worse. Forcing himself to smile, the high-colonel looked around briefly. They were the only two in their relative corner of the bar, though he still had to use a slightly lowered voice to make sure the words didn't carry. A small handful, much to the commando's chagrin, were close enough that normal or slightly raised voices would be overheard to some extent. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd show," he said calmly, not at all bothering to note that he had hoped against her arrival; the pheromones were an annoyance he'd not really been too thrilled with. At the same time, he also didn't let on that she was earlier than he anticipated her being, which seemed to follow along nicely with the review he'd received on her from the DDI. The inevitable question, however, was how long that sort of performance would last.

From here out, he silently resolved to himself that the distractions of the bar would be out of his mind; all he had to do was think of business...not of the admittedly-attractive Zeltron woman before him. "You come on high recommendation from the ISIS," he whispered, the smile coming just a bit easier. Casually, he looked around the room, as though to indicate that the whispering was intended to ward against prying ears. "If you're interested, little missy, I have a job proposition for you...one that would net you some extra credits, and probably make you look very good with the Empire." As he finished that thought, the waiter stopped at their table, and the colonel pulled out a credit chip. "Cup of tea," he said to the server, smiling, "and whatever the lady wants."

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Diri Tiberia
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Diri Tiberia » 2011-09-07 18:52

Diri frowned just a little at the man, her perception of him changing just as swiftly as his sour attitude appeared. There wasn't much in the galaxy that bothered her, but people who scowled a lot and were nothing but business and serious were one of those things as she fought to keep her mood upbeat. There were instances when her empathic abilities did work against her as she, like all Zeltrons, were easily influenced by the moods and feelings of those around them. The bar was dreary enough but there was just enough cheer coming from some drunken fool in the background to keep her from getting up and turning the man down out of pure spite and his unwillingness to loosen up and enjoy life.

Poor bastard needs to get himself laid. Life was too short to be spent fretting about the small stuff and whatever baggage he was carrying, she wanted none of it. Looking up at the waiter with a brilliant simile, she took a quick second to admire him- making it look as though she were considering what to have- before saying, "Stimcaf is fine for me."

"Cream, sugar?"

"Sure." There was a brief moment of hesitation as the waiter wasn't sure how to take that answer and Diri only then realized, after sensing his confusion, that he wasn't calling her "sugar". "Oh, sorry. Sure to both. Just a little bit. Thanks." She laughed as the waiter walked away as her gaze drifted back to the man across from her. The laugh quickly faded as his serious scowl became even more embedded in his face, to the point wrinkles were starting to form. She sighed, the smile fading along with it.
Turning her attention back to the stranger, she leaned herself forward against the table and regarded him with an intrigued expression as she said in a whisper, "So, the lovely people in the Federation agency recommended little ol' me?" That was a reassuring statement since she was still convinced that one of them, somewhere, wanted her tossed into a cell and the key eaten by a sarlac. She tilted her head slowly as she felt only a small amount of concern surface, brought about by a stronger feeling picked up elsewhere in the room. "That means you must be someone who either works for the Feds, their agency or you have an insider to get details like that because I'm sure not aware of my growing fame."

Sensing the faintest twinge of apprehension, his efforts at remaining serious and businesslike in the face of the pheromones preventing him from keeping the gut reactions under wraps as even the slight microtwitches in his gaze helped give him away. Diri didn't really care who it was giving the job, be it some cadet or the Emperor himself. All that mattered was the pay and the relevant details. Besides, if he was working for the Feds, it only lent more assurance to her that she would actually get paid for whatever it was he wanted her to risk her neck for because nothing was worse to a freelancer than being gypped out of creds. And bad news traveled surprisingly quickly in the underworld and other people, mostly those with a bone to pick against the NIF, would exploit the unhappy mercs. Letting herself smile knowingly, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye as the waiter started returning with the requested drinks.

"Thank-you," Diri said as she happily accepted the mug of stimcaf, gingerly sipping the invigorating liquid. It tasted like brown and water mixed with a hint of poorly refined sugar and week old cream but such was the cost of doing business on the Firro, especially in the face of such discerning people used to the rich, finer foods and drinks of life. Having a high metabolism didn't help as it meant Diri could consume such foods and drinks and not be concerned about it like humans were. Cake, liquor, both at the same time, it mattered little so it was little wonder she had developed a finer taste for things that a pissant bar on the seediest spot in the Firro couldn't begin to live up to. The waiter departed and she took another ship, glad it was a horrid cup of caf otherwise she would have to come out this way more often.

His sales pitch was like so many she had heard before: cliche. Thankfully, cliche meant true and reduced the chance she'd be screwed out of the credits that had yet to appear on the table. His impatience grew and Diri might have stalled longer for no good reason just to see how long it took before his blood became hotter than the tea he was sipping from but, as her opinion of him had markedly changed, she no longer held any desire to stick around longer than necessary either. It was a shame too, she might have enjoyed talking to him if he could lighten up but, sadly, bringing happiness and cheer to people like him didn't pay the bills.

Looking at the man, who held the tea cup to his mouth, Diri noted something and smirked suddenly, appearing as though she just discovered something he didn't yet know. His resolve was slowly wearing down and Diri, finding his efforts amusing to say the least, decided to give him a gentle, vocal nudge. "So, are you going to tell me the particulars of this little job or are you just going to sit there like that and stare at my chest for the rest of the day?" She followed that up with a little flirtatious wink, withholding a comment she might normally make about having to charge him at the rate he was staring.
"Bounty hunter, merc, smuggler, whatever your desire, I'm for hire!" - Underground HoloNetPages Ad
"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses." - Elwood

Blitzkrieg
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2011-09-09 06:36

The high-colonel frowned, taking another sip and visibly forcing himself to keep his eyes up and on the level. This woman was vexing him with her...unfortunately, inherent traits, and it was close to the point where he would respond to them in some way. What she didn't know--and what he didn't see the need to explain--was that such mind-affecting things as pheromones were best used near him in smaller, more diminutive doses, unless they were from someone he knew to be a close friend. He'd reacted poorly to such stimuli once beefore in his life, and the poor individual who had been exuding them was lost to a hospital bed for a short time. Honor, of course, demanded that he never once consider harming a lady, but there were things that brought out the beast in him to overwhelming degrees...the kind that not even his honor could rein in.

Locking eyes with her, his scowl shifted, ever so slightly, into a feral grin, one that seemed to tie in well with the general malevolence of the animalistic tendencies that lingered inside him. "I will get to the details in time," he said calmly, managing to hide the fullest extent of how much the pheromones were affecting him, "though I am inclined to wait until you manage to rein in your...scent." It was an easier way to describe the particular thing he wanted kept in check, and he felt that in this case, an expedient solution was of the essence. "If, however," he continued, "you'd rather not do so... I am certain that I can provide the details to you for your perusal at a later time."

At this point, the grin took on a slightly greater position within his lips, and the ends of fangs were visible: slight elongations of the incisors keeping with a slightly lupine trait in his blood. The look in his eyes matched the grin, giving it a haunting look on his visage. "I trust that you will find the arrangement to your liking," he said in closing, leaning back and taking another sip of his tea. Through sheer willpower, he forced the grin to fade, leaving a calm, stern expression...and the same cold, almost evil bloodlust in his eyes. He didn't dare say anything yet, and just continued meeting her eyes with his own, staring into them, and sipping from his tea. If she chose to proceed at the bar, he'd humor her, and give her at least some of the vital specifics relevant to the task; if she didn't, he'd have ISIS scrounge up a way to contact her without a second irritating meeting.

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Diri Tiberia
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Diri Tiberia » 2011-09-09 15:53

Diri shrugged a little at his statement. For someone who seemed impatient and not wanting to remain here longer than was absolutely necessary, he sure had no problems stalling for time. Maybe the dosing was a little heavy, but he wasn't responding at all how she would have hoped, his active attempt to control himself revealing that he was harboring lustful desires which, while flattering, wasn't her aim at all as she was simply aiming to make him a little more friendly and help loosen him up, remove the whole serious air that hung around him like a bad stench of his own. She toyed with the idea of explaining the fact that those (feral) desires within him weren't entirely her doing as she hadn't been releasing all that much of her heavenly, though odorless, aroma.

Leaning back in her chair, Diri returned his gaze and weighed her options. Difficult people were just that, impossible to work with or for and never satisfied, by anything or anyone. Seriously, this prick needs to get himself a two chit joygirl and a quiet back nebula motel. She got the distinct sense that he was prepared to leave, perhaps waiting to see how she reacted to his little statement. Diri didn't mind dealing with middle-men and she was sure they'd be a lot more jovial to work with than this man was proving to be. Clearly the phrase "lighten up" isn't in his vocabulary.

Sipping from her drink, Diri shrugged again. "You want to turn me away because I turn you on, that's your call." She left out her observation about him asking to meet her and the fact that, if the Feds gave her such high praise, they would also have known she was a Zeltron too and that her pheromones would affect his mind, making her more attractive and likeable, two traits that always made meetings go a lot more smoothly, and to her immense advantage (it was always easier to increase the pay when someone was too busy undressing you with their eyes than to think the extra ten or twenty percent was too much).

Somewhere else in the small shop, laughter erupted from some unheard joke and it was that good cheer that allowed Diri to remain where she was, giving her that extra bit of emotion to put up with him that much longer. She found herself wanting to laugh too, but the cold stare from the now primitive looking man sitting in front of her did a good job at keeping any happy feeling from being expressed. Some people loved to live in a constant state of misery, so Diri came to learn, and she likewise learned it was just best to leave them to their devices as most of them were beyond even that of her expert help.

Glancing away, she gave up on trying to influence him, his mood clearly set in a slab of duracrete so thick that it was amazing he had a soul at all (though Diri was being generous in assuming someone this joyless could have one to start). If he wanted to be a sour, miserable bastard to someone who was only trying to be friendly and playful, than there was no point sticking around. Looking back at him, she shook her head and said impatiently, "Let's get this over with then. Either give me the details now or go find yourself someone else, someone who will tolerate your piss-poor attitude."

At this point, she really didn't give a damn if he got up and left, in fact, part of her was hoping he would. She had met a lot of different species and aliens in her travels, but never before did she meet a feral human, the traits exhibited in his teeth and eyes interesting and something she would have loved to learn more about under almost any other circumstance. Now, she hoped this would be the last time she would have to associate with him (beyond whatever terms they agreed upon). I swear, the pay better be worth this bantha fodder.
"Bounty hunter, merc, smuggler, whatever your desire, I'm for hire!" - Underground HoloNetPages Ad
"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses." - Elwood

Blitzkrieg
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2011-09-10 03:27

Wolfgang sighed very subtlely, almost imperceptibly, as the Zeltron finally became truly impatient for the meeting to end. No, he had not envisioned this meeting going this way...of course, he had also been told by MedCom to go it without anything to block the pheromones; they had assured him that the damned things wouldn't interfere with him too much, and from the way things were going, someone had underestimated their effect when interfering with his physiology. He just couldn't tell right now if the error was a common piece of human error, or some intentional sick joke someone was playing on him. At this point, that particular aspect didn't matter, and he would take care of it later on in a manner that was more convenient to him; were it a joke, he already had a good idea of who would have been behind it, and she would soon enough regret it.

Instead, the focus was Miss Tiberia...and how much he had just been a complete jerk to her over the past few moments. Admittedly, he hadn't warned her that he was prone to adverse reactions to the famed pheromones of the Zeltron species, and perhaps he should have, but that was in the past...and what was done was already over and done. Shaking his head slightly, he sighed again, this time more audibly, and took another sip of his tea. The sounds of laughter and the holovisions on the other side of the bar had attracted enough of the few other occupants that he could finally speak without worry of anyone overhearing. "My apologies," he began, "about earlier. It appears to me that I am to be the butt of someone's joke, and you are unfortunately swept up into it. I assure you, I am normally neither this crude, nor this cold, when conducting business." Yet, he reminded himself silently, to the matter at hand. "You had it right, earlier; I work for the Empire, in a manner that isn't readily open for discussion. What I'm offering is a contract for services rendered, with payment and information given to you commensurate with the task asked at any given time."

Here, he paused, letting the waiter come over. He had arranged ahead of time that drinks were the only course for the visit, and was relieved to see the man simply hand him the check, which he paid without even blinking. Besides that tea and stimcaf weren't that expensive to begin with and he was grossly overpaying, he felt that it was good to get this part over with. The sheer measure of willpower he was exerting over this moment to keep his darker side further contained was...taxing. When the man left to go make change for the payment, Wolfgang snickered, using this as his chance to rise from his seat. "The prices are negotiable, depending on the job, but I'm thinking intervals of 2,500, 5,000, and 10,000 credits, depending on the measure of risk you're exposed to."

He made for the door as the man's back was turned while he tried to figure how to break the change that was meant to be his...well...hush-money. "I also propose that we start this meeting again in a different part of the station...this started on the wrong foot, and I wish to amend that particular oversight." Keeping the beast at bay a while longer, he nodded, acutely aware that he had shuddered just a little as he finally came to a small part of the bar that wasn't yet affected by the pheromones. "If you're interested in cementing the bargain, you'll find me in the hangar deck...I imagine the money will draw you in..."

Like that, he was gone, heading for the hangar in a route different from the one he'd used to reach the bar. The fresh, pheromone-devoid air was a relief; while the things were odorless, they sure as Hell messed him up whenever he breathed them in. ..That doctor...is going to pay.

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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Diri Tiberia » 2011-09-10 05:19

And like that, the man was gone, leaving Diri to wonder just how poor that man's immune system was to be unable to filter things out as she had stopped emitting them a good two minutes ago. Usually the effect was near instantaneous which meant his desires were stronger than he was beginning to imagine. Poor bastard, wouldn't last two seconds on Zeltros...

Kicking back, she decided to finish her mug of stimcaf before getting up and following after. The credits didn't sound too bad, though it would take her a good twenty jobs at the higher price range to finally save up enough to pay off the bloody Hutt. And that's assuming I don't spend a single one on the more important things in life. That was about as hard as asking her to give up all the pleasures in life that made it so worth living. But she had done a good job so far at keeping the various posses of bounty hunters off her back so she could buy herself plenty of time to amass enough to make a nice dent in the debt she owed. And the sooner I can get rid of that, the sooner I can stop having to look over my shoulder...

He had done a complete about face at the end there, his mood shifting from guarded to one of sincere guilt as he became aware his behavior was rather unbecoming. Maybe he was bipolar, that was a distinct possibility but far be it for Diri to go trying to figure him out. So long as he was good for the credits, that all that really mattered in the end as she got to her feet and strolled out of the place, placing her cup in the waiting droid at the exit who collected all the used glasses and mugs. Walking back in the direction of the hanger, she went down a different path, opting to do a little more window shopping, dreaming of how to spend the credits he was offering already. The debt could have probably been paid off ten times over by now had she actually any restraint when it came to shopping, but Diri didn't really care. Besides, there was one good thing about bounty hunters, they were great target practice when they were hostile and even better dummies to try and seduce, especially when they tried wearing their armour. Amusingly enough, many people made the mistake that typical gas masks could keep out pheromones which, unless they were surgical masks used in hospitals, simply weren't the case. It was like trying to keep out the aroma of a freshly baked cake.

Reaching the hanger, Diri easily found the man, honing in on the most serious presence she felt. Maybe the "fresh" air helped clear his system though the air really wasn't all that fresh as it was full of dust, animal and Wookiee dander, cigarra smoke and even the pheromones of all the other species on the station, humans included. Sadly, only Fallens and Zeltrons were capable of influencing other species with them. I wonder if I could influence a Fallen... Now there's something I should try!

Approaching the blond man once again, she waved cheerfully, a brilliant smile on her cheerful face, the stroll helping her reacquaint herself with the more upbeat shopping atmosphere all around. "So, cleared your head?" she asked, tempted to tease him some more and cloud his senses once again. That would probably be very counter productive at this point since he was making an effort to be more cordial. Her smile turned into an almost shameful grin as she said, "You're right that the credits would draw me in, though, you had me at "negotiable"." Looking at the ship he was standing by, she asked conversationally, "This your vessel?"
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2011-09-27 03:55

The high-colonel chuckled softly as he saw Diri approach, trying as much as before to keep himself in check. Truth be told, it was still a difficult thing for him, even if he was at least having enough success to keep the feral side of his personality at bay this time around. "Feeling better, yes..." he said calmly, offering a slight laugh to go along with the response. "I apologize for not informing you sooner, but the blasted things have a habit of bringing out my other half. For the good of society, I try to keep him in his cage more often than not." Remaining calm, he simply shrugged his shoulders, though the gesture looked perhaps a touch awkward, like that of a man who couldn't quite tell what he'd do if he ever got rid of that other side.

Still smiling, he reached over to the ship's ramp, pulling away from it a small durasteel briefcase. "Yes, this is my ship. ...For now, at least; it's on loan from a friend." He didn't bother to specify that the 'friend' was the DDI; he didn't want to get into detail on that point, and the Zeltron didn't need to know. "The contract I'm willing to offer is, simply enough, basic payment for services rendered. My associates and I are often in need of certain supplies, a quick ride in and out, and the occasional helping hand. You provide, and I'll do my best to pay you, within the confines of my budget. Naturally, the more direct your measure of assistance, the more money you stand to get...and the more I'll tell you about what's in need.

"As for the case...well, if you accept, you get to find out; if not, it hops back on the ship with me."

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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Diri Tiberia » 2011-09-27 04:22

Hearing his brief, and pathetically vague, explanation Diri refrained from sighing as she kept her irritation in check. From what she just heard, the man basically wanted to hold her on retainer, to be called up whenever he felt like it, expecting her to drop whatever she might be doing or to sit around waiting by the comm for his blasted call. Perhaps more annoying was the notion that, despite having agreed to his terms already, he still expected her to voice acceptance. I know people like double-checking and making sure but this is a bit much...

Glancing in the direction her ship was in, parked not too far away, Diri pretended to give his offer some second thoughts in light of what was just revealed. "Wellllll..." She let the word drag on for a little bit before saying, "In the most basic sense, you expect me to be waiting around the comm for your call and expect me to drop whatever I might happen to be doing to respond to your summons..." She listened to him explain that he would try to give her as much advance warning as possible but Diri had heard that numerous times before. "Uh-huh, you and every other contractor who think people like me sit around, doing nothing while we wait for your call." She wasn't particularly looking forward to these arrangements however she was willing to give it a shot once or twice and if he decided to be unreasonable or expect the impossible from her, than she'd simply leave, reputation be damned.

"Okay, sug." She smiled, unable to keep it from looking a little forced, "I'm in. So, what's the job?"
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2012-01-12 18:33

Wolfgang chuckled. For just a second, he wanted to out and out tell her just what it was that he did, just to get it out of the way. Perhaps if she understood that aspect, she would be less likely to jump to such outlandish conclusions about what he expected in this business arrangement. Sure, the work was important, but he naturally understood that the woman he was dealing with had a life outside of the work she usually did. ...Or, at least, he hoped she did. "Lazying about waiting for a comm to go off?" he asked in a light-hearted voice, airing his concerns about her assessment. "No, madam; I imagine that you lead a busy life, and I understand and respect that. I'll try and give you some sort of a heads-up of when I might need your services. If you can help out, you let me know, and we work out the cost of your services for that particular operation."

Very calmly, he hefted the briefcase in his hand, before handing it over. It looked completely plain, undecorated by any markings or government insignias; inside, there lay a few stacks of paper and metal currency, totaling twenty-five thousand credits. "On the record," he began, looking around briefly to ensure that nobody was nearby, "you would be tasked as little more than a rent-a-taxi. Off the record, you'd be authorized, by me, to help with the sort of work that earns...shall we say, high notoriety. You bear no rank, and need not concern yourself with military protocols and restrictions...not that I expected you to worry about them anyway. As of this moment, you are welcomed to a contract arrangement with the Federation's most secretive arm of military force: Special Warfare Command." Calmly, he extended his robotic hand, smiling. "As the department's director, it is my honor to meet you.
"...And to again apologize for my rudeness earlier." A slight measure of color forced itself to his cheeks as he brought that bit up.

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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Diri Tiberia » 2012-01-13 01:38

It was arguable how busy her life was. Probably not very, though Diri was had the ability to find things to do with ease. Accepting the case, she gave it a slight lift, testing the weight as visions of numerous spy holos flashed through her head. She figured it was full of credits, if not credits than an assignment but that thought quickly vanished as the man continued to speak, revealing the nature of the work she was to undertake on a whim. She guessed the case contained at least ten-thousand credits, which was a very generous signing bonus though Diri would later discover the full value of the credits and realize just how generous it would actually be. For now, she listened to the amble and, while being a rent-a-hovercab wasn't anything new to her, it was without a doubt one of the more boring jobs out there, ferrying people here and there.

When he got into the off the record details, that's when Diri started to light up, the notion that being a shuttle driver was going to be boring fast evaporating as an excited smile appeared on her face. Even better, it seemed this was a job coming directly from the Federation and this man offering the contract was the head of some group called the "Special Warfare Command". Be easier to just call him a "Fed" then. He didn't really need to reinforce the idea that she didn't need to worry about things like regs and protocols, Diri wouldn't have anyways. When he was finished, he extended his metal arm.

Swapping the case into her other hand, she returned the shake with an enthusiastic smile. "These things happen," she acknowledged, knowing that the galaxy was filled with all sorts of people, some of them rude pricks who needed the durasteel rod removed from their butts. "I look forward to working with your super secret club though." Gesturing to the case, she added with a wink, "Especially if payments take cases like these to fill."

Seeing his face go just a little red made her smile widen even more but she refrained from making a scene of it, after all, he had just hired her on a contract to help his Special people who apparently couldn't fly themselves anywhere even with all the sophisticated and fancy technology the Feds doubtlessly had filling the overstuffed hanger bays of their immense Star Destroyers. Oh well, it means credits for me so what do I care? she wondered to herself as she released her grip on the man's metal hand. Fishing out a piece of flimsiplast from her pocket, she extended it to him, the smile not once fading. "I'd call that my 'direct line', but let's just say if you dial that frequency, tell the man on the other side to connect you to me." She thought about any other relevant details she might need to mention, and thought of one very important one. "Just a personal favor to me: don't try to trace where that frequency goes. Believe me when I say the man on the other end is good at his job and I'm more apt to trust people contacting him to get in touch with me." She shrugged nonchalantly, adding with a wink, "Long story but it pays to have someone who owes you a few favors."

She made a quick mental note to tell Jeff that she gave the Feds his calling card as a means for her to distinguish between this personal contract and any of the other countless personal calls she got, particularly from the dozens of bounty hunters Lorga constantly sent after her, using the old fake-job trick to lure her somewhere. It wouldn't look good if I snubbed him because I thought he was a bounty hunter trying to drag my pretty ass back to that slimeball.

Figuring the contract was pretty much set in duracrete, Diri gestured in the direction of her ship and asked with a beat of her eyelashes, "I don't suppose you need a lift somewhere right now as part of this contract?"
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2012-01-13 02:42

For a brief second or two, Wolfgang let out a slight chuckle. "I would normally love the ride," he said, offering a half-truth; while he indeed would have, he was sure that their experiences in the open bar had been enough to prove that he was leery of engaging in such with her. "As it stands, however, the ISIS has loaned me this ship for the day, and I might as well use it. I'll be in touch." Stopping halfway up the shuttle's ramp, he turned to face the Zeltron woman, bowed his head politely, and then boarded the shuttle. When the ramp closed behind him, he took off, and was moving towards his next destination at lightspeed within thirty seconds.

"Mos Eisley Spaceport...you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." It felt odd; though he had never heard the words, Wolfgang was certainly thinking them to himself right now. With the intense dry heat trying to sear through him, he found the place to be vastly uncomfortable; it took all of his concentration to think on what he was doing there, and keep his mind off of the blasted heat. Sure, he was an outsider, but if he was careful enough to keep that much hidden, he could get through the marketplace and on the way to his destination without having to worry about anyone catching on to the truth.

The salesman at the landspeeder rental facility had been kind enough to at least offer some information, and what little he had gotten was enough. He was looking for a certain someone, and as it turned out, his quarry was in the Dune Sea. Beyond offering the salesman a description, he had asked for little: grid coordinates, a map, and a vehicle that could get there and back. In truth, he couldn't tell if the salesman was cooperating because of the sizeable chunk of credits being handed his way, or because the high-colonel had two DeathHammers in plain view; it didn't matter to him, though, as he couldn't smell the subtle stench that indicated a lie, nor the microexpressions on the man's face that would have signaled the same. With that, Wolfgang was traversing the Dune Sea, cursing the unrelenting heat of Tattooine and her twin suns as he sought out an old friend, and the one person who could have thought of retiring to this backwater dusthole...

...Chaz Harkor.

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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Seamus » 2012-01-25 22:19

The tall moisture vaporator emitted a dull thrum as Chaz opened the Nozzle, water began pouring out into a large plasteel tank placed below. Chaz was tired, it was the last vaporator out of the 20 on his land and it had been a hard days work. He leaned up against the hood of the hauler finally giving into the demands of his aching feet and back. A dark hand reached up and wiped the pouring sweat from his brow as he looked west towards the 2 setting suns. It would be dark soon, and the Sand people would be out, Living on the boarders of the Jundland Wastes was dangerous, Large raiding bands of Tusken Raiders prowled through the dunes looking for someone unfortunate enough to be out at night. They were getting bolder in their attacks, although they didn't bother Chaz, much besides the occasional scouting party, or coming to steal water from the vaporators. He'd heard that some hadn't been as fortunate, and that they were starting to make open attacks on moisture farms now.

But living this close to the Wastes also had it's advantages, people never came out here, and that was the way Chaz wanted it to be. His farm was a full day's trip from Mos Eisley. The people that lived in the spaceport annoyed him, the rich who'd never made an honest credit in their life, lived off the Poor. The poor are a bunch of lazy slobs unable to do anything for themselves, Last time Chaz dropped a shipment off to the spaceport he had several bums approch him looking for a handout. It annoyed him to no end.

The vaporator stopped humming signaling it was empty. Chaz pushed himself off of the Hauler and grabbed the water tank and hoisted it into the rear. The sky was getting darker now, and he could hear the distinctive howls and cries of the sand people starting to stir around. He quickly started it up and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

Chaz's homestead was on one of the many lone mesa's that dotted the landscape of the Dune Sea, he could see the entirety of his property from his house. He chose the location because it was easily defendable, should any raiders stray onto his land. Also he could see most of the tall moisture vaporators he owned and prevent them from being torn apart and stripped by the scavenging Jawas.

Chaz pulled up next to the small Bantha pen next to the domed house and switched his engines off. The younger Bantha's began mooing at him and approching the barbed wire fence Chaz had built. "You've been busy." Chaz mused, staring at the empty feed trough. He walked over to the feeder on the other end of the trough and opened the top of it. He shown a flashlight down into the feed container. Bone Dry. "Very Busy indeed." Chaz said, his tone was cheerful, but weary, they never ran out of food when the days work was easy. It was almost like they could sense when Chaz was exhausted.

Chaz walked around the pen, passed a Divider to 2 bulls. They remained still and silent, glaring at him as he inspected their troughs. They were still full, and chances are they'd only taken a few nibbles when they were Really Hungry. Chaz had bought them off of a pair of nomadic bantha herders. They were still very much used to being able to Roam the Sea as they saw fit and eat what sparse vegetation they could find. Chaz stared into the eyes of both Bulls as he began walking to his garage, which was more of a storehouse for Bantha Feed. When he first bought them they tried to charge out of their pen at him, while they were much calmer now, they still would trample a man if he got too close.

Chaz returned with 2 large bags of feed on his shoulders and dumped them into the calf's feeder, It wasn't full, but it would get them through the night. Chaz's voice went extremely high as he cooed the younger Banthas, babbling incohearant nonsense as he threw some feed from the bag directly into the trough. This was wonderful. Delightful moans of pleasure errupted from the 3 calfs as they all rushed to the trough frantically looking for the perfect spot to eat the grain. Chaz grabbed the 2 empty bags, and walked passed the 2 glaring bulls and threw them into a large incinerator located next to the garage.

He entered the house and kicked off his bantha dung encrusted boots replacing them with a pair of clean sneakers. He walked through the living room and out into a small circular courtyard. Several plants grew there, surrounding a smaller Moisture Vaporator. He inspected the various fruit bearing plants for pests, diseses, any imperfections before checking when they were last watered.

"I watered them 2 hours and 45 minutes ago sir." The metallic voice said from behind. "I will water them again in 1 hour and 15 minutes."

The 3P0 series droid Chaz had bought off a pair of Jawas entered into the courtyard. Chaz had bought 8T8 to communicate with the vaporators. 8T8 Did his job well, and after inquiring about being a being a droid. Chaz gave him a few tasks to complete around the house, to make him feel more 'human' The sarcasm was lost on the droid's rigid personality complex, but he didn't mind doing them. The droid was in dire need of a memory wipe, and most owners would of taken them in the second their droids compared themselves to a human. But 8T8 showed no signs of hostility, and his company was appreciated.

"Hows your leg?" Chaz asked as the droid limped next to him.

"Fine sir." The droid said quickly, The sand encrusted leg joint had been giving the droid a great deal of grief, or whatever he felt since Chaz had bought him, but he refused to let Chaz work on it. The first and last attempt, Chaz had accidentally thrown a Hydrospanner into the Droid's data matrix causing the droid's artificial pain sensors to fly off the charts and had caused hours of self repair.

"Well, you let me know if it gets worse." Chaz ordered reassuringly.

"Will do sir." The droid lied.

"For the millionth time. Cut it out with the 'Sir' bullshit." Chaz said as he walked back into his homestead. Chaz had worked his fingers to the bone every day since he was big enough to hold a drill, being called "Sir." didn't sit right with him, but it was better than 'Master Chaz' or 'Master Harkor.' Like some other droids insisted on calling their owners.

"I'm sorry sir." The 8T8 said in the preset apologetic tone. "It's against my programming." By now the suns had finished setting, and the 3 moons cast were up in full view. The piercing frantic screams of the sand people became much more frequent, interrupting the night's peacefull silence, It started to make Chaz a bit nervous, he'd never heard them act like this before. Usually there would only be a few howls, but tonight it was a frenzy.

"Whatever." Chaz said wearily. "I'm gonna rack out." Chaz said as he entered his room.

"I'm going to shut down, if that's alright sir?" 8T8 asked. "I will reactivate to tend to the garden in 45 minutes."

"Go for it." Chaz said as he was shutting the door. "Wake me up at 0400. Got another busy day tomorrow." Another howl pierced his ears, while it didn't seem like they were getting closer, Chaz wasn't taking any chances. "On second thought. Hook up to the Sensors, if any slow moving biosigns enter the property, wake me up."

During the first months Chaz had lost several vaporators because of Jawas, out of frustration he had installed a series of sensors on several of his moisture vaporators, although he could see he whole property from his homestead, most of the time he was out collecting water from the vaporators or on his way to the spaceport to drop off the fruits of his labor. The sensors worked most of the time. Most Jawas were felt that the holo-cams mounted on the top of each vaporator was telepathic link to Chaz, and that he was always watching them.

The droid grabbed a large cable from a computer tower and plugged it into the socket on the back of it's head. "Yes sir." he said before the lights in his eyes clicked off.

...

Chaz exited the shower and grabbed the remote on his bed. After throwing on a pair of loose fitting nylon shorts, He pressed a button on the remote as he opened the mini-fridge and retrieved a beer. Music filled his house as he sat on the recliner, and extended his legs up. He took a sip from his beer after taking a deep drag on a cigarette. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes and let the soft vibrations of the bass take him away.

The music cut off and a loud obnoxious buzzer went off. Chaz's eyes clicked open, and he groaned as he set the beer down and lazily stood up from his chair. He swabbed the shorts and jumped into a pair of tan cargo pants after quickly grabbing an olive drab short sleeve shirt he walked out taking his E-11 down from above his bedroom door and the bandoleer that was next to it.

"I've registered a single biological signature." 8T8 reported as Chaz threw on the T-shirt and Bandoleer. "It just passed vaporator Xtd20 and is moving towards the homestead at high speeds."

"ETA?" Chaz asked as he finished tying a pair of neatly polished black boots.

"2 minutes and 30 seconds" 8T8 replied. Chaz had already ruled out Tusken Raiders or Jawas with as fast as they were moving and most thieves were too scared to stray this far out from Mos Eisley. Whoever this was could have a band of Tuskens on their back, most people didn't know proper evasion tactics and could lead them straight to the homestead.

Chaz threw a switch and giant floodlights mounted on the top of his house and garage flicked on, before exiting to his front yard. He saw 2 headlights rapidly coming up his driveway. He slammed a power pack into his E-11 and yanked the charging handle back before leaning it against his the wall of his house, the bandoleer next to it. They showed no signs of being followed, even with the increased presence of sand people.


The speeder pulled next to the Hauler and stopped. The penned up banthas whimpered. A single figure stepped down from the speeder. Chaz recognized Wolfgang as he approched the house, and smiled at his old friend. "What's up Blitz?" He said, as if he'd seen the Krieger the day before. He grabbed the E-11 and Bandoleer off the ground He embraced his friend with one arm and motioned him inside the house.

They walked into the Kitchen and Chaz placed a glass of water on the table in front of Blitz. "Sorry about the welcome," Chaz said nodding towards the rifle he'd set on the counter across from the table. "The Sand People have been restless all night." He doubted that Blitz was here for a social call, or to disscuss a farming partnership. Wolfgang was a soldier, and he would remain one until he retires.

"So, what brings you to the ass end of nowhere?" Chaz asked as he sat down across from the commando, and took a deep drag from his cigarette. Blitz was never the kind of guy to show up somewhere by accident.

"I take it you're not here to swap old war stories."
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"No, the reply is decidedly not affirmative."

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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2012-02-17 05:53

Wolfgang snickered softly as he climbed out of the landspeeder, hefting a Merr-Sonn M-435 from the back seat. Although he smiled, and used his free arm to embrace his old comrade, he remained silent until they were in the house, relatively safe from the elements and the natives. "I've had worse welcomes," he joked, a small part of him honestly wishing that had been a lie. "Hearing the damned beasts yelling, though, has made me glad I stopped off to get this before coming here. Hope I don't have to use it." With that, he set it down vertically on the floor, resting it carefully against the table.

Thanking his old friend for the water, he picked up the glass and took a sip, setting the glass back down quietly and gently. "It's been some time since we last saw each other...I wish it could be something as easy as a social call and a desire to hear about the moisture farm bringing me out here. I guess the best way to start is to simply say that war stories are...remotely related."

Taking another sip, he paused briefly, considering in his mind how he would go about framing the request. Certain things, he was allowed to mention; naturally, it was the stuff he couldn't openly discuss that had his thoughts churning, and it always seemed that the most important and noteworthy details were the ones tht he couldn't use. "I've recently been assigned command of a new, top-tier venture in the Federation's army," he said, favoring the words with a slight chuckle. He could only imagine how it sounded. The mere thought of him having to be 'assigned' to anything was absurd; he was the kind of man who didn't know how not to volunteer. 'Part of the directive with this endeavor is a little measure of 'creative staffing'...I need some people from outside the NIF."

At this point, the high-colonel couldn't hide the wolfish grin that spread across his face. "Your name, Mr. Harkor, was the first that came to my mind. I would be honored to bring you in on this new venture."

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Chaz Harkor
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Chaz Harkor » 2012-04-04 02:17

Chaz ground the butt of his cigarette into the astray sitting next to him as the commando spoke. "Top tier eh?" Chaz said, furrowing his brow. It wasn't that Chaz thought Blitz took him for a fool, but last he'd heard the man had been involved with several highly classified, highly dangerous operations way above his paygrade. That's one thing he didn't miss about the Army.

"Well the farm is doing well." Chaz started as he stood up and looked out the window above the sink. "I have 20 Vaporators in working condition. It would be 50 but the damn Jawas come along and strip them apart." He said, switching the topic, he pulled another lit cigarette from his mouth and exhaled the smoke from his nose. "I also have 20 heads of Bantha to look after. Five are outside, the other 15 are somewhere out there." Chaz noted the silence from outside. Odd. Chaz shrugged it off, the Tuskens were mysterious and unpredictable, chances are they found what they were looking for and left.

"I'm old Blitz." Chaz said finally turning around, facing his old friend, "I can't go around the galaxy destroying planets with you anymore. Besides. I'm doing well for myself here." As much as Chaz would like too go around the galaxy again, he couldn't just drop what he was doing now. "I'll sleep on it." Chaz said exiting the Kitchen. "You can have my bed. I'll take the couch." He said, lazily gesturing towards his room. He plopped down on the couch and stretched out his legs before shutting his eyes and falling asleep.
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Blitzkrieg
Brigadier
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Re: One Hell of a Bargain [Closed/Invite]

Post by Blitzkrieg » 2012-04-18 01:59

Wolfgang sighed softly as Chaz made his way to rest. Rest was not in the cards this eve...at least, not for the high-colonel. Hell, rarely was it ever really in the cards; looking at his old friend, though, he couldn't imagine it going to a more deserving soul. Shaking his head calmly, he smiled, and walked over to the room to which the self-proclaimed 'old' man had retreated. He didn't enter it yet, no...instead, he just stood there for a bit, and watched. Sleep looked...peaceful, if such a word could ever be applied to anything a soldier did, and thinking on it for a few minutes, he came to a satisfying conclusion. It was the conclusion that, frankly...

...Chaz deserved that peace. Calmly, Wolfgang left the doorway of the main room, and headed back outside to the rented speeder. As quietly as he could, he opened the cargo compartment, withdrew from it a small briefcase, and closed it back up. With it in hand, he went back inside, and headed up to Chaz's bedroom. There was a light blanket on the bed, which he surmised was used for the colder nights...with such little cloud cover, the nights could actually get cold in the otherwise infernally hot desert. Grabbing it, he brought it back over to the main room along with the briefcase, and finally entered the room. After placing the briefcase down gently next to the couch, he draped the blanket over his old friend, a calm smile still on his face. "Rest well, you old bastard," he whispered, chuckling lightly. "You've earned it."

Leaving the room, he headed to the kitchen, picked up his rifle, and moved over to one of the windows, where he remained to stand guard for the night. He planned to be gone before the other man woke up, if his timing was right, and would be leaving Chaz with more than enough to live in comfort, a reward he had earned countless times over.

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