Scoundrel on the loose

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clive stepped out onto the bustling walkways of Coruscant and stretched. He'd been having a pretty good business streak on Nar Shadda with his little weapons dealings and ship enhancments. He was already pretty well known on Nar Shadda by the seedier lot of beings there for his specialty in weapons and ships. Not to mention he was also well known, and most likely wanted, by whatever authroity presided on Nar Shadda. Not that he had anything to worry about, being hidden far in the planets depths.)

(He started walking towards a conveyor walkway that led to a lower level. Soon, the conveyors would end, and he'd have to use stairs to reach his new base of operations; a new weapons depot he'd opened up here on Coruscant.)

(He ran a hand through his dark hair as he reached the last conveyor. Straightening his eye patch, and looking out with his good blue eye, he began making his way down a flight of stairs. Down, down, down... until he reached a darkened level where not many beings walked, and where only the brave or stupid dared venture.)

(From there, he disapeared into a small, unassuming shop that held various legal weapons of sorts, and where in the back were stored the not so legal weapons.)

[Jerred Rez]

(ooc) Is this open..? I'd be interested in having somethings repaired and/or buying some new weapons, if so.

[Clive Jerrard]

OOC: By all means, welcome to my shop.

[Darth Viscera]

A lieutenant in the Imperial army, flanked by two stormtroopers, let himself into the shady boutique. He took 4 civilian identification cards from his pocket, and slammed them down on the counter. He did the same with a small, disposable datapad, then eyed the arsenal. Finding a weapons license nailed to the wall, he signaled to the two stormtroopers, and they prepared to depart, and head for the next legitimate establishment.

"Wear the identification cards at all times. They identify you as a noncombatant, and more importantly, they keep you from getting blasted. Curfew is at 2100 hours, lights out at 2200 to protect against rebel air raids. You don't want a proton bomb blowing you to bits. Read the datapad, and if you're interested, go to the Ministry of Propaganda tomorrow."

The three Imperials left. The datapad read:

<img src=http://www16.brinkster.com/wlabiche/bountypad.jpg>

[Jerred Rez]

As the man began walking deeper into the shop, a voice haulted him.

"Goodevening, Clive... I've heard about your business here... Though I'm afraid I must first ask you how well you can keep secrets? This is my first time through Coruscant, forgive my inquiry as to your credibility. I usually don't venture this far into the core regions."

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clive watched the Imperials walk out of his shop as he looked down at the data pad and ID cards. He snuffled. He really didn't have a soft spot for authoritative figures, especially Imperials. Too stiff and they always looked like they were dressed and ready for anyone's funeral. He pocketed the ID's and slid the data pad away in a desk drawer. He also wasn't too afraid of raids or thefts or whatnot. The shop may be shabby looking, but looks were always decieving. It had a high security system built into the buidling, illegal in most systems, and a hidden facility underground for his more... private ventures.)

(At the sound of his name, he swivled to find a man coming in and speaking to him. He listened and smiled at the word secrecy.)

My good man, I deal in everything from yesterdays open market to tomorrows closed closets. In other words, secrecy is what I deal best in.

What can I do for you?

[Jole Zakath]

Jole stepped into the small shop, casting his shadow through the door, then paused as he heard voices from within.

Frack - the guy already had a customer!

Nevertheless, he stepped inside, and held himself back, until whatever transaction was going on had ended.

It wasn't really that he wasn't curious about the guy with the green shades - far from it, actually. He just didn't feel in the mood for it. He had come for something else, and he'd wait for his turn.

He could always get one of his men stationed outside to follow Green-shades if he really wanted to.

He waited.

[Jerred Rez]

He nodded, appreciative of Clive's reassurance.

"My ship's weapon's system is having slight targeting problems. The ship's computer can't seem to be able to pin-point the cause. If you might be willing to examine it for me..."

Jerred motioned towards the ramps, back up to where his ship had been docked.

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clived smiled. There was nothing more he enjoyed than plunging himself into the weapons sytems of a star ship.)

Sure thing. Let's see what we can do for you're flying ladies eyesight.

(He noticed the other man lingering in the back of the shop.)

Be right with you, sir. This'll only take a moment.

(He half-turned and yelled towards the back room.)

Hey Raunkks! Watch the shop will ya? I'm steppin out for a bit!

(A large Barabel lumbered into the main room from the back. He was huge, and his black scales glistened in the shop's lights. His two large, reptilian eyes narrowed and he grinned, showing a row of large, sharp teeth.)

Raunkks: You got it, CJ.

(Clive mock saluted Raunkks and turned back towards his costumer, and gestured towards the door. Both began walking in that direction.)

We will also need to discuss a bit of payment. But, let's first see what the prob is, Mr...?

[Jerred Rez]

"- Jerred."

He led the way back up the ramps, passing several secluded. Clive watched as his customer led them through rarely used back ways - He had done his homework, and it showed.

"You'll be paid generously, I assure you. I place my ladies health as one of my top priorities."

There she was, docked across a metal expanse about the width of a man. Clive starred at it in astonishment as it's loading ramp opened, revealing a earie interrior. The computer kicked up, it's usual greeting gracing their ears as they entered.

"Goo-Goo-Gooday Jer-er-er-er-red Rez, what is today's bussiness?"

The bounty hunter merely shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Forgive it's formality..."

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clive shrugged.)

Formality is always a wonderful way of being treated. Whether at work...

(He bent over slightly to look at a particular detail on the interior.)

... or play.

(He straightened and looked at Jerred.)

Very impressive ship you have here. A shame the targeting system is hiccuping. Let's see about finding the problem, shall we?

(He smiled and waited for Jerred to show him to the main panel for the targeting computer.)

[Jerred Rez]

"Calipssa, I'll needfor you to open all your access panels for the gentlemen."

The ship whirred for a moment, then 10 different panels poped open and dropped down. Jerred pointed clive toward's a large one near the cockpit.

"There it is... I've been playing with it, but no luck... I'm hoping someone of your expertise would be able to figure out the problem."

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clive bent down and examined the exterior of the large maintanance panel for a moment and proceeded to poke his head in when he stopped abruptly on hearing an almost inadible hum.)

Um, not to seem pushy or anything, but it might be a good ideato turn off the security system before I go sticking any limbs inside.

As much as I like a good shock every now and again, I don't feel like ending up like my piece of toast this morning.

(He looked at the inside again without touching the paneling, examining the tiny wires running along the edge.)

Nice security system though. High quality. Looks like it was made by Merr-Sonn. They make some nifty security devices.

(He continued to peek inside the ships inards.)

[Jerred Rez]

"Deactivate your security systems, please."

The computer stalled for a moment and gave a very unusual explanation: It had forgotten. Since when did computers forget? He turned to Clive.

"You can already see one of the problems..."

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clive nodded as the hum died inside the paneling and peered inside, poping his head all the way in and looking around. From the inside, his voice came out echoey and muffled.)

Well, it looks like some of the wiring has been coroded by what appears to be the handy work of space beetles.

(He reached his hand inside and pulled out what appeared to be a light, filmy paste.)

See this? It's their saliva. The beetles aren't harmful to humanoids, but they sure as heck wreak havoc with star ship systems...

(He rocked back onto his heels and wiped his hands on his leather pants.)

...mostly wires anyways.

(He stood.)

I can get you the neccessary replacement wiring for the targeting system. As to the computer "forgetting", it might very well be tighed to this little prob.

(He bent over and looked inside again.)

Yeah, it's possible the computer's memory hiccups are most definitely tighed to this. See that wire there?

(He pointed inside.)

The one with the connector module? That wire connects directly to the main security and targeting systems. It's falling apart due to the space beetle's acid.

(He straightened again.)

I can get all the parts you need to replace these babies...

(He held up the neccessary wires.)

...but you gotta call an exterminator for that in there...

(He pointed to a small beetle that flew past a flashing conduit box and lighted on another small wire.)

...before they decide to eat your entire ship from the inside out.

[Jerred Rez]

Jerred reached into his coat and handed Clive a chip containing 10,000 credits.

"This will suffice? I would like to have my ship refitted with a new targeting system. Also... the carbonite chamber needs to be overhauled."

He handed Clive another chip, this one containing 190,000 credits.

"I trust I can leave this in your hands?" His goggles flared up a bright shade of green.

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clive looked at both chips and smiled. He then looked up at Jerred.)

I think this payment should suffice for the parts and overhaul. If any additional charges are needed, I'll let ya know.

(He looked towards the side of the ship and pointed.)

That the carbonite chamber over there?

(He walked over and examined it.)

Yup, looks in good shape. But I'll give it an overhaul, none the less.

(He turned to face Jerred again and patted the interior hull of the ship.)

I'll have her spiffyed up and ready to go by the day after tomorrow. That is of course, unless you want her ready sooner? It would cost extra though...

[Jole Zakath]

Trying to make smalltalk with a Tradoshan who had extremely bad breath was not what he had come here for. Raunkks was not the most intelligent of beings, it seemed.

He didn't even attempt to ask the reptile alien for what he had come for. Casting a shifty glance around through the shelves, his eyes fixed on a Xerrol sniper rifle.

It seemed that they had what he had come for. Now it only needed some other specialised equipment. But he would talk that over with the owner - if he ever returned from his little talk with Green-Shades.

He fixed the Trandoshan with a toothy smile and settled back into his original position of waiting.

[Clive Jerrard]

(After taking care of business with Jerred, Clive closed up the ship and locked it. He made sure the landing pad had his ID so he could come back and fix her up. Clive then headed back towards the shop.)

(He was a good study, and actually went back following the route Jerred had taken him through. And he actually made it back to the shop without so much as a hitch.)

(Walking in, he smiled at the gentleman near one of the sniper rifles. Then he looked at Raunkks and nodded his head. The big reptile gave the equivilent of a smile and walked back into the store room.)

(Clive then turned to the man and addressed him, still smiling.)

A pleasant day to you, my good sir. And what can I do for you?

[Jole Zakath]

Jole stepped forward, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb at the display case with the sniper rifle inside.

He wasn't here to waste time, so he came straight to the point.

"I see you have a Xerrol Nightstinger here. I'd like to get that. Can I take a look?"

As he asked, he let his hand glide into the pocket of his coat, until he felt the tiny capsule against his fingertips. Jole quickly looked the man up and down, looking for a possible place on his body he could put the capsule without the Trandoshan or any other customer observing, and finally saw a small apparently camouflaged pocket at the side of the owner's overcoat. That would have to do.

The Owner nodded agreeably, and walked over to the display case.

Jole stepped up close as the guy opened up the display case where the rifle was in, and slipped the capsule into the pocket, making sure that his fingers brushed against the man with enough pressure that he would notice it.

The guy reacted instantly.

"What do--"

Jole cut him off with a glare, and hissed at him under his breath.

"That's an encoded message cylinder. Look at it when you're on your own. The code is 26234.79#ft. Now shut up before everyone notices."

Then he lifted his voice to its normal volume and looked back at the rifle as if nothing had happened.

"That's very nice, but do you also have the matching Tibanna Gas cylinders? About 10 dozen of them?"

[Clive Jerrard]

(As Clive was showing the man the sniper rifle, something was slipped into his pocket.)

Hey!...

(The man abruptly hushed him and lowered his voice, giving him information and a code. Then the man went back to talking about guns.)

(Clive just blinked for a moment, processing what had been said to him. He looked at the man again and saw him raise an eyebrow, waiting for his answer. Wait... what had he said? Oh, Tibanna Gas cylinders... 10 dozen???)

Er, um, we do carry Tibanna Gas cylinders, but at the moment we don't have 10 dozen in stock. I have about 3 dozen right now, and could get the others in two days time.

(As he answered the man, his hand slipped into his pocket absentmindedly and fiddled with the cylinder. All of a sudden, he was incredibly curious about what the cylinder held.)

(He watched the man mull over what he'd said and began to study him, memorizing features and the like. Hmmmm... he'd do a check on this one too. He shook his head slightly. So many people to check on, so little time.)

(He slipped his hand out of his pocket and clasped both behind his back as he waited for the man to make his decision. Well, this day was certainly turning out to be a most interesting day indeed.)

[Jole Zakath]

Jole looked at the guy, displeasure clearly written on his face.

"You don't?"

He scratched his chin absent-mindedly, while thinking matters over. Maybe 3 dozen were enough for now - it just irked him because this wasn't going to plan, and Jole Zakath always was never anything short of meticulous in the execution of a plan.

"Oh well... I guess 3 dozen will have to do for the moment. I hope that you can at least come up with the additional 7 within the next few days."

Then he took out a small datapad he had prepped earlier for this meeting, and tossed it at the other man.

"Oh... and see if you can get me any of those with it?"

The shop owner looked somewhat startled at Jole's sudden casual manner. Then he looked down onto the datapad:

<font face="Arial" size="1" color="green">
39:03:03:23:43:17#CRC.1.IPC#TSR.JZ
Standard Weapons and Equipment Order:

Communications Equipment:
3_ Andrali-Tech - 2LP Comlink units
3_ Andrali-Tech - ICU 4 Sub-Vocal mic unitss
6_ Andrali-Tech - PDA-3 (AT-PDA-4) Wrist PDA Com Systems

Weapons:
12_(dozen) Merr-Sonn BrightStar Disorientation Grenades
5_ Thunder Anti-Material Blaster Cannons
6_ Meridian Corporation Avenger CQB-4 Blasters

Other:
10_ Fabritech Diffuser Pads
5_ Greff-Timms Industrial Senate-grade Ionic Disruptors
5_ Circuit Disruptors

Order to be delivered by appointment.</font>

Jole watched the other man as he scanned over the items on the pad, and an amused grin played on his lips as he saw the man's eyes widen with surprise.

"You think you'll have that within the next week?"

[Clive Jerrard]

(Clive kept looking over the data pad, scanning items he knew he had in stock in his more private room downstairs. The others would definitely be found in his full shop on Nar Shadda. And he was still thinking about that capsule nestled in his pocket. He looked up at the man, and smiled.)

More than half of these items on this list I have stored here. I can get ya the 7 dozen Carbonite Cylinders with no extra charge in two days time, along with the rest of this inventory.

(He took a breath.)

I could, however, have it here by tomorrow, but it would cost extra.

(He looked at the data pad again.)

Nice line up. Yup, I can most definitely have all this for you in no time flat.

[Jole Zakath]

Jole was pleased. This guy was to his taste. Apart from the Tibanna gas shortage, of course.

"No, we won't need them until next week. Besides, I'm sure we're going to pay you enough - no ned to drive the price over the top."

It was time to tell the boss that everything had gone smoothly. Turning around, he took out his comlink and flipped it open, activating it with a push of his thumb. The channel was already set.

<font face="Arial" color="red" size="1">"Boss? The bantha is safe. It will arrive on planet next week. Payment is expected by then. Thumbs up?"</font>

It seemed the boss was pleased, for her reply came prompt and decisively. A grin tugging on his mouth, Jole turned back to the owner of the shop.

"Get everything together. We'll get in touch with you within the week. Payment will be made to an account of your choice - but see to it that it's reasonable. I know every weapons dealer on this planet, and their inventory lists and charges. If you try anything funny, I'll know."

Then he turned to the display case with the sniper rifle.

"As for that little baby - wrap her up nicely and send her to the address on the second page of that list. Be sure it gets there, because I'll be monitoring the receipt of it myself. If it doesn't arrive within the next 12 hours, you're gonna be fed to the nearest rancor I can find - even if I have to import it myself."

Throwing a credit chip down on the cashier's desk, he turned around and left before the owner could say anything else.

When he looked over his shoulder at the door, he saw that the guy was looking down on the datapad again, and Jole knew that he had to be looking for the address.

<font face="Arial" color="green" size="1">
Delivery address:
Sanis Prent
Apartment 34C
Subsection 774
34558 837th Sector</font>

[Clive Jerrard]

OOC note: Jole, I changed Raunnks species to that of Barabel. I thought it prudent to let you know, so you could make the change in one of your posts when you refer to him. His name is still Raunkks, btw.


IC:

(Clive nodded his head as he took in the man's request.)

I'll have the items by the time you come back.

(He gave the man a knowing smile.)

My shop is quite well stocked on Nar Shadda.

(He studied the address again, noting the name. He'd heard Sanis Prent's name mentioned before, and his curiosity tweaked again. He then looked at the sniper rifle and smiled.)

As for delivering this beauty, there's no need for threats. I'll personally deliver it myself this evening. How's that for service? And at no extra charge.

(The smile remained on his lips as he watched the man walk towards the door.)

(He then turned.)

Hey! Raunkks!

(The large Barabel came trundling in from the back room and nodded his head towards Clive.)

Here... gimme that empty data pad over there.

(He made his way towards the counter and plucked the data pad from Raunkks clawed hand. Hooking both pads together, he transfered the items to the empty pad and handed it to Raunkks.)

See to it our people at Home Base get the items we don't have and have them sent ASAP, preferably by day after tomorrow. And when you're done with that, start looking for these parts in the back.

(He handed Raunkks another smaller pad.)

Those are the parts for Mr. Jerred's ship. I'll start work on that tomorrow.

Raunkks: Consider it done, CJ.

(Clive shook his head and chuckled.)

What would I ever do without you, Raunkks?

Raunkks: Probably end up dead in a gutter down some backwater planet.

(That made both beings laugh. Clive shook his head.)

Get outta here, you big oaf! Oh! And take this credit chip with you and deposit it into the account. Um, make it account number four.

(He punched Raunkks' shoulder playfully, knowing full well the large Barabel probably didn't even feel it. With a sharp toothy grin, Raunkks picked up the credit chip, and data pads, and disapeared back into the back room to get down to his task.)

(Taking a look again at the data pad given to him by the man that had just left, he reviewed the address. Sanis Prent. He sighed. Yet another name to do some info back checks on. That made now, what? Three names? Four? He was starting to lose track.)

(Walking up to the sniper rifle case, he pocketed the data pad, and passed an electronic key over the case, opening the it and grabbing the rifle. It was a beauty, with a shiny barrel and a smooth wood finished handle.)

(He made his way over to the counter and wrapped it up in a plain brown paper with some thin rope-cord. It was simple, but for a rifle like this, simple was good.)

(After wrapping the rifle, his hand slipped into his pocket and came away with the information cylinder the man had slipped him. He looked it over and sat behind the counter at the computer terminal. He looked at the cylinder a bit longer and then placed it in a round slot. This would only take a few minutes and then he'd deliver the rifle.)

(The cylinder began to feed something into the computer...)

[Data Transfer]

<font face="Arial" color="green">
39:03:03:08:26:56#CRC.1.IPC#TSR.SR
Message to Clive Jerrard:

Mr Jerrard, please forgive me if I do not approach you directly, but in this underhand way. It is, however, a necessary precaution, for both our safety.

I am sure you remember our previous meeting. As I recall, Miss Jadefire and myself had a short debate as to your status a few days ago, before I gratiously let her win. That meeting, however slight and unimportant you might think it was, did not pass so lightly by my standards.

We have watched the progress of your business over the last few weeks, and we wish to point out that we shall not stand for another shop selling weapons and equipment to the citizens of Coruscant. A shop like yours propagates violence all over the planet, and all over the Galaxy.

It is the sworn duty of the Sector Rangers to uphold peace and safety in the Galaxy, and all races stand under our protection.

Therefore we would like to ask you to cease your illegal operations from this day forward. Legal actions will be taken against you if you shall not comply with this.

However, should you be willing to obtain the necessary permit to run a business as large as your own (ALL stock included), please contact the nearest Sector Rangers HQ Administrator in your area, and we shall be more than glad to offer you our services.

Sincerely,
Sasseeri Reeouurra
SR Administrator

End message</font>

[Clive Jerrard]

(He sat there silent after viewing the information contained within the cylinder. He was rubbing his chin absentmindedly thinking about what he had just read. Somehow, these Sector Rangers seemed... strange. Oh, he'd heard plenty about law abiding organizations and the like. He remembered running across one on Nar Shadda. Well, that particular guy didn't fare too well, and Clive's shop was still standing and quite operational, away from law abiding eyes. But these guys seemed a bit more... serious. Not to mention the list of items the guy had asked for. The same guy that had given him this cylinder. He plucked the small device and pocketed it again. No doubt the guy that was here earlier had been this Sasseeri Reeouurra's hench man. Or at least one of them. Hmmm... maybe he'd go and see these Sector Rangers. Business was after all business. But, he didn't like being bullied around.)

(He made a mental note to make back checks and searches on all these interesting characters he'd run across. Sooner or later, he'd find a link, and possibly more.)

(He stretched lazily and looked out the shop window. The sun was beginning to set an-- he stopped his thought process abrubtly. Beginning to set? He took a quick look at his chrono.)

(Holy frellin mynocks! It was almost closing time, and he still had to deliver the rifle. He hollered towards the back room.)

Hey Raunkks! I'm steppin out to deliver this rifle! Close up the shop in another hour, it's getting late! I'll see ya later!

(He heard an acknowledging grunt from the back and headed towards the door and out into the Coruscant twilight. He made his way up to the upper levels of the city planet, and jumped into his air speeder at the public garage. Then he headed for the address on the data pad:

Delivery address:
Sanis Prent
Apartment 34C
Subsection 774
34558 837th Sector)