Mr. Amber Shades

[Sanis Prent]

(Mister Amber Shades was a character...the kind of sweaty sleaze that clung to polyester shirts like moths to an open flame. Top unbuttoned, with a cheap gold-plated chain tangled in his chest hair. I didn't know whether he thought it was in style, or just didn't want to pull it free. He had a receeding hairline, drawn back into a midlifer's ponytail, with the salt & pepper ends highlighted in a gaudy shade of chemical blonde. The only person he was trying to fool was Andy Warhol's kids, maybe. At any rate, he could've been a hundred nobodies...and half the number of somebodies...moving and dealing a hundred different ways up and down the streets of Coruscant. Maybe thats why the business card said Mr. Amber Shades. Tom, Dick, and Harry get lost halfway between the shuffling hustle and bustle, and sultry nights of cheap liquor and cheaper women. If the drugs came into play...the card was my only lifeline.

But Mr. Amber Shades...that stuck with you. Catchy...something outside the box. It also helped that he had the hardware to back it up. Gaudy, flashy, and big...the kind of shades old-school pornstars or myself might wear. The only part of him that didn't seem played-out and vanilla. Not only that, but you could never see the man's eyes. Just his weasely laugh, lips moving beneath a pointy little ratfink moustache that he waxed out. The smell of expensive cigars around him was thick like the smell of death. Some people front, and some people can back it up. If I didn't have my sixth sense, I would've written him off as the former. But something made me bite. Maybe it was his whole angle. Maybe it was 250,000 credits. Maybe its just because it was a sexy score, dangling above me like some kind of sexy-sweet pinata.)

Diamonds, huh?

(He chittered away in his annoying laughter, waggling his cigar for emphasis)

Yeah, sounds frackin sexy as hell, don't it?

(It sure as hell did. Nobody was a diamond thief anymore. It was the kind of thing you only saw in pulp comics and avant-garde noir-style caper flicks. Cruising the Rivierra, playing bacarat, and living as the poster-child of High Life. It made me salivate...it might as well be like wagging a steak under a Cizerack's nose.)

So why me? I'd figure with a score like that, you'd have a line outside this joint.

(Mr. Amber Shades slid a decanter to me)

Prent, you're a cultured piece of dren...why don't you relax, kick a few back on the house, and let me explain the mundane details. I promise...this krasst has your NAME written on it.

(Good whiskey. Maker's Mark. The man either did his homework, or had some good taste hidden somewhere under his cheesy exterior. It was one of those things that didn't matter at the moment. I poured up a stiff double, while Mr. Amber Shades explained.)

The New Republic, for all the land of opportunity it is, are a bunch of frackin boyscouts in a tree fort. They still can't get their right hand to figure out if their left hand is scratching their balls or jammin a thumb up their ass. Pay attention on this...

...This here Imperial Colony...Deneb...its loaded with the goods. I got that information on reliable source-like, so don't worry. But the scoop is, the New Republic moved in on em...caught a whole gaggle of stormtroopers with their armor down around their ankles, so to speak. So the good guys went and did a number on the bad guys...real embarrasin' to the bucket-heads and such. Cry me a frackin river, thats not the point. The point is that the Imps couldn't move the goods before Johnny Reb moved in and closed the spacelanes. Right about now, the New Republic fellas are mopping up the operation down there...and they have a mountain of dren to sift through. But, as my reliable information suggests, they're gonna hit a mother lode...

...Two hundred diamonds, Prent. The size of the balls between your legs, and thats more complement than insult to ya, buddy. I'm talking ice cold enough to draw a wampa's ass tight.

(But then again...what did I know about diamonds? I'm a smuggler, thats true. I've got a thick resume behind that, a few contract killings, some bounty hunting...definite drug business, and a few other embarassing unmentionables. But what did I know about diamonds?)

They come from Naboo, right?

Good job, frackin Einstein. Yeah, Naboo...maybe...who knows and who the frack cares.

(He puffed away at the good cigar, the sweet aroma saturating me like sin)


The fact o' the matter is, they're there...and they're in the middle of a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. New Republic's stretched thin enough fighting the bucketheads. If they can spare more than a tricycle with ion engines to pull this stuff off Deneb, I'll be shocked.

I want you to case the place, and wait for the rocks to get on the move, and then...make em disappear, and magically reappear back here in about a week. Its the most simple quarter mil that'll ever be offered.

(I smirked)

Where are you rolling those kind of credits from?

(He frowned, chomping on his cigar)

Hey, wiseguy...you might get away with looking a gifthorse in the mouth, but look a gifthorse in the ass one more time, and he's bound to kick you in the balls. Why don't you worry about what you're gonna do to GET that quarter mil. I'll worry about where my chits come from. Hell, its cleaner change than that bitch Reeouurra's passin ya.

(I took down half my double, raising an eyebrow)

Sasseeri?

No...Bob Reeouurra...of course Sasseeri! You think just cause she's boinkin ya in her penthouse, you're the only one to go on a first-name basis with 'er?

She gets around, and the less she gets around my business, the better. But...I'm goin out on a limb with ya, Prent. You're dirty goods, but you're good, period. I want you on this. I want you to do this for me. I even managed to contract out a few "associates" for you to work with. Don't worry...the quarter cut is yours. They're working for smaller slices of pie, and the less you talk about pricetags, the better. If you're interested, look em up. They're at the Brass Monkey, in district 34598. Chrome-eyed dame named s'Il, and some other furry character. You need more tools after that, its at your own risk, and at your own take. Capice?

(I clinked my glass with his)

Clear as diamonds, Mister?

(He grinned, shaking my hand, and slipping a card into it)

Mr. Amber Shades....

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

ooc: well, either the phone company doesn't know their @$$es from their elbows, or God really does answer my prayers. Either way, I don't mind.



ic:

1……2…..3…...4.…..5…...6…...7……

“Damnit!!!”


s’Il sat back against the headboard of the bed in disgust and frustration. She’d been at it for hours now, and nothing she tried seemed to work at all. She’d had only marginal luck; if any at all, of getting a single playing card into the old fedora resting at her feet. She glared daggers at the hat, silently cursing it and its seemingly innocent looks. A flick of her wrist sent yet another card through the air, but it fell short. The one after that went too long, and so on and so forth until she gave up entirely, leaning over to deposit the remaining stack of cards she held onto the nightstand. Setting them on the worn out wooden surface, her eyes brushed the business card she’d dropped there the night before.

Mr. Amber Shades

She snorted. No matter how many times she’d dealt with the man, he still always managed to slip her one of his infernal cards, and she swore she had enough of the stupid things to fill her office on the Rascal King from top to bottom. But, he was always good business regardless of his…..other…..tastes, and s’Il remained in contact with him; though sometimes grudgingly.

Staring lazily at the card, she let a sigh escape her lips as her eyes left their spot to travel around the room she’d checked into. The Brass Monkey wouldn’t have been her first choice of places to stay, but she’d been asked to come, and so she did. The job was fairly simple, the pay acceptable; if not a little on the downside. Yet she was never one to turn down anything having to do with diamonds. It wasn’t so much the age old saying: “diamonds were a girl’s best friend” as it was the money behind them.

One of the many other reasons she’d chosen to delve into the more lucrative field of art and precious jewels theft.

Her eyes strayed to the ceiling, and she busied herself with counting the cracks lacing the most likely hundredth paint job of the surface above her. Ticking away numbers until her eyes hurt, she looked down to once more gaze at the fedora. Determined not to let the hat get the better of her, she grasped the deck of cards from the nightstand, made herself comfortable against the headboard, and began the never-ending battle once more.


1……2……3……4……5……6......7……

[Sanis Prent]

(The Brass Monkey wrote itself off as a "Bed and Breakfast". It was a bit of misleading advertising. The only beds in the joint were the kind you fed credits to vibrate, and the only breakfast they served was asprin, to whatever unfortunate red-eyed soul got drug out of their unconciousness and into a morning sunlight-fueled three alarm hangover. But I suppose if money can be saved on tax writeoffs, its bound to happen. Then again, if you went any lower down into Coruscant, you wouldn't have to worry about the sunlight part. The windows were barred over with durasteel, and the lights blinked in an epilleptic symphony of neon. Only somebody as full of spit-polished sleaze as Mr. Amber Shades would recommend a dive like this, much less know it existed. There was a saying that to reach the bottom of Coruscant, you had to scrape the bottom of a dozen or more barrels first.

I stepped in a puddle of something that could've been Gamorrean puke. I didn't bother to ask, instead making a mental note to find a floormat later. I tapped a bell, and a pot-bellied Chadra-Fan hobbled to the countertop)

Can I help you

(I removed my shades, the light had long-since faded from the tinted windows)

Yeah...looking for a lady.

(The Charda-Fan chittered in amusement)

Those cost money, sirs...

(I slid him a 50-chit)

She's not one of yours. I'm looking for a customer here.

(His eyes shifted a few times)

I gets lots of customers

(One quick glance around the establishment proved that statement wrong. I looked at him again with an expression to show just as much. If that didn't help)

She's got pretty eyes, from what I hear.

Oh...yesss, I know that one. Room 34, down the hall and on the right.

(He waved in the vague direction, and I followed his lead, scratching the back of my neck as I arrived. Damn lower levels, the humidity felt like a hot shower. I removed a corellian blaster from my t-strap holster, rapping the barrel lightly against the door)

Candygram.

[Tevit Ramastan]

A crinkling of plastic wrappers was absorbed into the grimy and smoke stained walled of the hallway. A once-white cieling had turned a putrid shade of yellow-brown over the years due to patrons smokeing cigar, cigarettes, pipes and other fume-related materials.

Shuffiling the items in his paws, and careful not to drop them--for even in their protective plastic wrapping, Tevit wasn't sure he would want to eat them if they were to fall to the floor-- Tevit looked over the haul he had purchased from a vending machine; trusting the "hotel's" fare even less than the junk food guised in a language he couldn't read, but looked enough like Twinkies and Ding Dongs to him.

Pocketing one of the noisy wrapped foodstuffs in a leg pocket on his coveralls, the yellow Nehantite was about to open another when he saw a figure rounding the corner and headign to s'Il's room. As quietly as possible, he stashed his snack into another pocket and withdrew an old model pistol from his leg holster.

Though he had been trained in tactical assault, and firearms use in school he had always done better at hand to hand. Leaning back against the grungy wall, he went to release the safety, but remembered that it was originally a police issue weapon, and did not have a safety switch to push down. Taking a deep breath, he shut his red eyes and concentrated for a moment before summoning up the guts to push off the wall and round the corner with his pistol at his hip as not to attract undue attention, but let the other man know he was armed in case there was to be trouble.

Stepping closer, he looked hard at Sanis, and a recollection of the same man jumping over his head while he was behind the bar at Yog's flashed back to him. Keepign teh pistol leveled from his hip, the yellow mongoose spoke, "Ssssanjisss, isn't it?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The knock startled her concentration as she tossed a card, and she watched forlornly as her aim was thwarted once more: the card cleared the bed this time, landing on the floor. She growled, perterbed to no end by now that a simple hat had beaten her in a simple game. So much for being smarter than the hat, she groaned inwardly.


Candygram.


Pulling herself from her inner tirade, she turned to look at the door from her place on the bed, and her metallic eyes narrowed slightly. Standing, she reached a deft hand beneath what went for a pillow in this dump, pulling out an old model projectile gun. She didn't want to take any chances that the man behind the voice had been sent by Mr. Amber Shades, or was some slobbering drunk looking for some poor lady who had the misfortune to be staying here.

Like me, she thought begrudginly. I swear, the next time that sleazeball decides he wants some help, he's putting me up in the Ritz-frakkin'-Carlton.

Sliding from the bed, she strode silently to the door, careful to make as little noise as possible. It did absolutely no good; a floorboard beneath the seemingly rotting carpet creaked beneath her boots, and she rolled her eyes in aggravation.

s'Il reached the door, and sidestepped so that she wasn't directly in front of it.

"Let me guess," she said calmly through the closed door, if not a little dryly, "You're an electrolux salesman, here to tell me that you don't know what vaccuum I'm currently using, but the Electrolux is the biggest sucker of them all."

[Sanis Prent]

(I paused, turning my attention to the side as a strange voice caught my name. I glanced over, and down to the alien's piece, leveled John Wayne style at the hip. In this game, friend and foe were all similar in the beginning, and while shooting first wasn't the usual course of action, working without a piece was equally stupid.

Snuck up on by a 2 meter tall snackfood-filching ferret. What was the world coming to?)


Thats the rumor.

[Tevit Ramastan]

Not putting his pistol away quite yet, Tevit relaxed his stance, pursed his lips and nodded. "Sorry, I know that's not how you really pronounce your name. But you mind telling me what you're doing here, and put that pea-shooter away while you're at it? I happen to have a friend on the opposite side of that door."

Tevit hoped he would comply, he really didn't want to shoot anybody, and the older model slug-firing guns were terribly noisy. But his first concern was just why Sanis was there in the first place, s'Il not having explained everything to him yet about their new job.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s’Il recognized the voice on the other side of the door. Sanis. Figures it would be him, she thought with a small sense of irony. Gun still in hand, she reached out and turned the doorknob.

The door opened, and s’Il leaned casually against the doorframe, her gun pointed at the ground. She let her eyes travel upwards from his boots to his face, and she looked him in the eyes.

“Well. Hello there. Aren't you just a regular Rigby Reardon,” was her casual remark.

[Tevit Ramastan]

Slightly miffed that s'Il stole the luster from his lackluster bravado, Tevit pocketed his gun and stepped to the side so she could see him better, all the while pulling the package of twinkie-like footstuffs out of his pocket and beginnign to attempt to teat it open.

"You know this guy, s'Il? Is this who we're supposed to meet?" He asked before pushing half a twinkie into his mouth. Chewing for a moment, but not swallowing fully, he asked around a wad of yellow sponge cake and vanilla cream filling, "What's your name, pal? I mean, your real one."

[Sanis Prent]

(I gave s'Il an affirming wink)

You know, I'm just the cream in your twinkie, babe. I mean, you can't tell me you're booked up in this hole for the room service.

(Sliding my piece back into its holster, I turned back to s'Il's paranoid friend.)

If I told you it was Sanis Prent, would you be disappointed? Expect something else? I mean, I figured that since we skipped the foreplay and went straight to pointing guns at each other, a little brutal honesty would work wonders.

(I glanced back at s'Il, jerking my thumb back at Ricky-Ticky)

Charming. He's got all his shots, right?

(With that, I let myself in the room, stretching as I entered. After all, the tram down to the lower levels was cramped, and it smelled to boot. Wait. Everything this far down smelled. I flopped back on the bed, lobbing a card at a hat lying on the edge, and ringing it.

I picked up the remote, tapping on the holoviewer)

You guys get Holomax in here?

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"You mean they have roomservice?" s'Il asked sarcastically as he sauntered inside. "Why doesn't anybody tell me these things?"

Leaving the door open incase Tevit decided to join them, s'Il walked back across the room, causing the same floorboard creak beneath her feet. She holstered her gun, leaving the latch unhooked as she dropped into a chair next to the bed Sanis had decided to occupy.

"Holomax? I wish. I don't know what he gets in his room," she said, nodding her head to Tevit, "but all I've managed to get is Galactic C-span and Cat Chat. And unless you like that Kokomo: Endor Amazon Princess show, I'm afraid you're out of luck."

s'Il sat back, stretching out her legs and propping her arms behind her head. She watched as Sanis flicked through the channels.

"Let me guess. Mr. Amber Shades."

[Sanis Prent]

Yeah...

(I sat up, shrugging)

Forgot to mention. Figured it was understood. And I guess that makes you and Rover here my strapping sidekicks in this little endeavor.

(I light a stim, finding a holo worth watching. A kiddie show with hand puppets. Something about it looked funny)

So does anybody else have any pertinent info on our gracious employer, besides that he obviously isn't allergic to polyester?

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s'Il stared at the man lounging on the bed. "I know enough about him to never let him choose a hotel for me again."

Sighing, she watched with a disinterested gaze at the show Sanis had decided leave on. "But, regardless of his personal hygiene and other...........tastes, he knows his stones."

s'Il settled as comfortably as she could into her seat; a daunting task to say the least. "To simplify it, two hundred diamonds; Deneb. Am I right in guessing you got the whole rundown from the man himself?"

[Sanis Prent]

Thats the gist of it...

(I offhandedly spoke, finding a half-full back of Rishi chips on the nightstand, and grabbing a handful)

...of course, there are a few other things to it.

(The guy seemed to have all his information down, but there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach that it wasn't going to be as simple as he said. Nobody just walks in and takes a score like that. Not without some sticky strings attached.)

[Tevit Ramastan]

Tevit didn't say a word at Sanis' cracks at him, even though they were a darned good way to tick him off. Pulling his cheek in annoyance, the mongoose follwed him into s'Il's room and closed the door behind himself, leaning agaisnt the frame as there wasn't another seat to be had in the "suite" other than the toilet; and if it was anything like the one in his room, he wasn't going near it.

Finishing off the second twinkie from his pack, Tevit crumpled the wrapping and skillfully tossed it into the wastebasket--the cleanest looking apparatus in the room, oddly. Looking back to Sanis watching the holovid, and s'Il watching Sanis, Tevit hooked his thumbs into the corners of his pockets and let his tail flick lazily behimd himself.

"I suppose this wouldn't be a good time to bring up how well my last diamond caper went, would it?" He asked knowingly, then glanced at his booted footpaws momentarily before looking back at them. "Now forgive me for being a bit skeptical here, but just how do we actually go about getting our hands on these diamonds? Last I checked it wasn't all that easy."

Normally, Tevit would have waited to hear the main plan, and also have been much friendlier, but Sanis had been rude to him more than what he thought was adequete, so the Nehantite didn't feel too bad in taking a downcast tone.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s'Il knew Tevit was rankled, but at the moment, she didn't really care. He was a good kid, but right now she wasn't about to argue the finer points of the humor permeating the room.

She sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "That incident went off better than I planned," she said, addressing Tevit. "regardless of how each one of us was personally affected." As she knew Tevit would most likely not be forgetting his trip to the bacta tank any time soon, so too did she remember the crowbar to the knee she'd taken from Cypress Oracle. It still hurt every now and then.

s'I'l turned to look at Sanis. "I have a few ideas on how to get close enough to monitor the stones until they're moved, but I ain't about to tell them to you in this dump."

She stood, leaning crossways over Sanis as she reached across the bed and under the far pillow for her second gun. She turned her head to look at him from her position as she slid the firearm from its hiding spot.

"Your ship or mine."

[Tevit Ramastan]

"Hoigen..." Tevit muttered as he watched his employer lean over Sanis in so teasing a way. Letting his head lean back, it thunked into the doorframe and he sighed through his nose.

If they were to head to either of their ships, Tevit would need to swing by his room first to pick up a few things he had only meant to leave there while he was going to the vending machine. His left thumb found it's way to the empty loop on the waist of his pants where his kris normally hung, and he rubbed the fabric out of nervous habit.

He wasn't sure waht was botehring him the most about the new assignment. The lack of direction was a major factor, as well as that he didn't believe he was qualified for such a task. After all, he was a mechanic; what do mechanics know about jewel theft? The option he didn't want to consider was his fear of his cousin, and becoming like him.

Pushing off the wall, Tevit pulled his left paw from the loop on his pants to teh doorknob and said, "Well, if it's on a ship we'll be, I need to stop by my room first. Should I just find you up on the main pad, or are you even parked there?"