I see your hunger for a fortune

[Jack Mortmain]

H'waaaang... Hwaaan'g..

"Where the frell d'they come up with these karky names?"

Jack Mortmain, Captain of the Atropos, had long since given up on the map she had sketched out on her datapad. Far too many blasted lines and too little sensibility left to grasp the concept of direction. In the end, she found herself stopped in the middle of a busy walkway, scratching at her bright, red, mussed hair and extracting a silver flask from the pouch attached to her utility belt. Slipping the datapad into the now empty pouch, she twisted the cap from the metallic bottle and tossed back a large swig. Oh, that burning sensation. She wanted to gurgle contently every time the namana liquor burned its way to her stomach. Serious mopak. Mopak. That's exactly what she'd be chest deep in if she didn't find that gent's shop soon.

The swagger she had previously walked along with had been reduced to more of a trudge paced slump once she had started up again. The baggy, silver pants she wore, adorned with various compartments and patches, rustled lazily about the sculpted legs hidden beneath the smudged, cloth fabric. Idly, she shoved the flask into the breast pocket of her ragged, black coat with one hand and began itching the strip of skin, revealed by the dip of her waist band and torn lift of her tank top, with the other. She was just about give up her search for the dratted place and head for some shady establishment to her liking when a radiant neon glow from above made the flash goggles, perched atop her mass of unruly curls, shift into a more according spectrum. Her turquoise eyes traced the fancy lettering and her lips drew upward in a most pleased but lopsided smile. A side step brought her around to the garage lay out of her destination. She wiped her hands down the front of her jacket in a mock attempt at adjusting her vagabond appearance and then stepped into the well lit building.

Hidden partially behind some hunk of junk to her front, she could see a person. Male. Obviously he worked here and hadn't cared to take notice of her long awaited entry. That was just impertinent on his part. Her gaze wandered away from his listing frame momentarily, taking in the large piece of durasteel propped up by an equally prodigious wrench. Her smile waxed a bit more as her hand slipped about its handle. A soft sigh escaped her lips and she tore it loose. The heavy piece clanged downward in a sound so tremendous, it echoed out into the streets she had entered from. People stopped and looked in, pondering the duo now staring at each other. One of her eyes was closed in a near wink, though it seemed more forced. His ears weren't the only ones ringing.

"Hullo, there." She greeted, twirling the wrench about in her grasp. The muscles in her arms worked, revealing the girl of about eighteen to be anything but a puny little miss. Lifting her other hand, the head of the tool came to rest in her upturned palm. The elbow joint of that arm came to rest against the butt of a highly intimidating stun baton.

"Obviously, I've come to confabulate a bit o'business with ye, ami."

[Ren Wilcox]

Ren had been peacefully working for about six hours. Jiro had popped in to see him earlier and tell him that if Ren was free, they ought to go out this weekend. Naturally, Ren could not refuse any request Jiro made. And the thought of going out with him had brightened Ren's day considerably.

Till he had recieved a call telling him he owed someone money for upgrades they had done to his ship. And the price was quite high to his dismay. After that the day had gotten rockier. And then the sound of durasteel crashing to the floor made him jump and straightening from where he was working on a hunk of junk he'd gotten a few days before. He turned, looking at the woman who was standing there, a rough looking girl, she obviously the one who had knocked it over by her expression. He pulled his goggles down off his eyes and let them dangle around his neck, bracing one gloved fist on a curved out hip as he shifted his weight to indicate he had heard her. And seen the weapon she carried. But weapons were not his business, ships and everything to do with them were. He wet his lips and leaned forward a little.

"Sorry, Basic is all I speak, friend."

[Dmitri Kelly]

"Oh my frell. This has to be the best tasting sannwich ever," Dmitri exclaimed as he stuffed another larger than normal bite into his already full mouth. It was a scrumptious sub filled to the brim - two different kinds of meat, three greens, some of the sharpest cheese the outer rim had to offer, and a nice Corellian spicy sauce for extra flavor. And for an added bonus, the seed of a papi fruit. Very delectable.

"Mmm!"

Amazingly, not a single drop of sauce or juice, or anything for that matterm, slopped on him or the tabletop he was eating over. Drinking it down with a fine fizz of gin, he belched in sweet bliss, satisfied with him meal. He never liked taking a job on an empty stomach.

This was his first contract for a small backwater agency. He'd taken the trials and proved his worth, but before they would allow him to join full time, they wanted to see if he was capable of doing dirty little fieldwork for them.

Apparently, someone ticked off the wrong people, one contacted another, and sent in for a hit man. Dmitri, looking like it or not, was him. But the person he was to off rang funny. A guy by the name of Jack? Jack Mortmain? That's what the datapad said. The image really did nothing to give any clues on what this person looked like, way too blurry. 'Jack has read hair,' his contact said. 'I couldn't miss it.'

Sure, right. The name did sound familiar, though.

"Ugh... that extra slice of Bantha steak was a mistake," he groaned out to no one in particular. The hit could wait for a while, at least until part of his meal was digested and not sitting in his stomach.

[Jack Mortmain]

"Basic it is, then." She nodded, silently considering how to go about incorporating this young man into her plans. Alexander had mentioned something about being acquainted with someone close to him. He had hinted that the mere mention of his name might be more than enough incentive for the lad. But really, was there no other way to bribe him? No other temptation? Ordinarily, the prospect of gold, pleasure, and adventure was enough to snag anyone's meandering interest. But this boy, he was different.

Her gaze roamed over his form, taking in how he stanced himself. No fear, even though she had felt his gaze roam over both hefty tool and stinging baton. He knew she was really no harm, yet. He was merely interested, the best she could discern. Good.

"Well, m'dear, it seems I am in need of an engineer. One that can handle a YT-2400, fully loaded and then some, with ease." She murmured, her lips quirking at the mention of her beloved vessel's make. While it instantly threw out flags, warnings of the shady business she ran, it was indeed hard to catch the Atropos red handed. She had great connections. Alexander being one of them. Speaking of which..

"Alexander Mirit, my dear friend and benefactor, has suggested you." She finally said, swinging the wrench about so she could boredly wander the sharpened expanse of her black, though chipped, painted nails. There was no doubt about it. This was the kid she was looking for. Alexander had made it abundantly clear, describing him via the details set down by their mutual friend, Jiro Lawson.

"You'll be paid a 'efty percentage from the cargo we acquire and deliver. Meals, board if an's otherwise. All of this is 'andled by Mr. Mirit. We 'ave occasional run-ins on Coruscant and Corellia. Meetin's if'n you will. Tonight. 'e can explain more." She explained quietly, casting a glance over her shoulder. Obviously, the discussion had whapped a bit more sense into her. Not only that, but Mr. Mirit, as she was reminded, did not approve of late rendezvous. Especially where she was considered. So frelling proper. Ananke District awaited.

"Though, it's about that time to be leavin', Ren. I'm not leavin' you any time to really ponder the whole of the inner workings. This is an opportunity, however, I'm certain you wont want t'miss."

[Ren Wilcox]

Ren's backbone automatically stiffened at the name Alexander Mirit. Ren didn't know him personally, but he didn't really have to. The man had dated Ren's best friend--former lover--Jiro Lawson. Recently, the strange man was all Jiro had talked about. After his break up with Orange Diren, Jiro had apparently developed the need to see the man again.

Ren couldn't exactly say he knew much about the other man, just his name, what he looked like, various and asundry other intimate details Jiro had shared with him that Ren could have taken or left. It had been sort of a territory thing with Ren when Jiro had begun dating the other man, after all, Ren hadn't ever completely gotten over Jiro. So hearing that Alexander had "suggested" him, did not make Ren's drive to see him very strong.

But the woman was right, the opportunity was good, and to frell with his mechanic's shop, he was barely there anyway, was probably on the verge of being fired anyway. He reached up, grabbing the goggles and pulling them off of his neck, discarding them on his station table and releiving himself of the black mechanic's apron he wore, tossing it over the table as well. Ren knew that kind of ship well, and knew he could handle the position.

Alexander was his only snag.

But Ren could get along with almost anyone no matter what he thought of them in his alone time. Ren let out a sigh and grabbed his satchels, putting then over his shoulder. He gave a shrug.

"Can I at least get your name?"

[Dmitri Kelly]

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[i]Ahhh, much better! He told himself as he exited the bathroom with a large grin. Now it was game time. Without so much as even paying for his lavish meal and drink, Dmitri walked by the table where he was sitting, his grin widening. He made it out of the doors and down the block about ten paces before one of the wait-staff noticed and came out to stop him.

"Sir! You didn't pay!"

"Oh, I didn't?" he said, turning to look over his shoulder as he continued to walk away. Kelly saw the serving droid coming after him, waving the bill in the air frantically as droids do. The thing was in perfect line of sight. In what seemed like one fluid motion, Dmitri reached under his long coat behind his back, grabbed the handle of his concealed blaster pistol, brought it arm, spun around, shot, and had it returned into its hiding place before the droid hit the sidewalk, a sizzling burn hole in its chest.

"I'm sorry," he told to no one in particular as a crowd started to form around the droid. Dmitri continued to walk on. There were bigger fish to fry today. And hopefully spirits to drink tonight.

[Alexander Mirit]

The music instilled a vivid sense of euphoria among the patrons of the richly decorated lounge. Very few honorable mentions knew of its hidden location beneath an older building that had long since been condemned. The particular sector of the city planet in which the appealing hot spot was located was not the most popular region, as it was often open for many a crooked dealing. The perfect place to house such cruel creatures, men and women of his ilk.

The Underworld, formerly established and owned by the deceased Balthasar Zalfeinrik, invited the two strays in with open arms. The sentinels at the entrance instantly recognized the woman's fiery red hair and foul mouth as she tottered on in. It was the man traveling a short distance behind her that held their attention. Obviously, they were together, so nothing was said. Yet.

Near the back of the first floor of the establishment, silvery eyes also attached to the pair. The straps and buckles connecting either side of the high collar of his shirt shifted as his throat worked, swallowing the last bit of the expensive poison he had ordered. Setting the crimson tinted glass on the counter top in which he leaned, he patiently awaited the woman to wander into his direct domain with her new found companion. Those harsh eyes narrowed at once. Jiro's acquaintance.

Lazily, he pushed away from the bar and came to stand beneath the single light fixture dangling above. An orange glow descended down upon his pale skin, the sharp style of his earth toned hair, the wolfish glint to his eyes, and the treacherously charming smile accented by the pristine double canines laying beneath it. The off-white shirt, connected to the collar that had been naturally adjusted by his muscular throat, had taken on such hues as well. The cast of shadows traced along the pressed perfection that was his slate colored vest and tight black breeches, gathering in finality at his freshly shined boots - military in their style.

"Jacqueline Mortmain... and company." He acknowledged quietly, lowering his head and his gold dusted lashes.

[Ren Wilcox]

Ren followed the woman, mutely, into the establishment, glancing warily around him as he shifted the strap of his satchel around on his shoulder. He could literally cut the air in there with a knife, and immediately felt umcomfortably like he was being watched.

Brushing brown curls from his eyes, he immediately found the source of his discomfort, standing, like some sickeningly twisted vision of sophistication, underneath one single light, casting his evil beauty into sharp contrast, dark circles where his eyes should be, and glints off sharp canines. Ren visibly tensed.

Jiro had told him that meeting Alexander for the first time was an experience one would never forget. Even now, Jiro said he had the clearest memory of the feeling of the man's breath on his face when Jiro had tried to pick his pocket. Ren could see now that the man, at once beautiful and threatening, left even Ren breathless and searching for the thoughts he had lost.

But Ren did not acknowledge him. His pride would not let him. Even though the man had never done a damn thing to Ren, and hadn't even ever mistreated Jiro, Ren still felt a deep dislike for the man that did stem from the fact that the man had--in some way that used to make sense to Ren--stolen Jiro from him. Selfish, he knew, and he hated it, but the dislike wasn't anymore evident even knowing that fact.

Ren nodded curtly.