Dish Served Cold: Up Front Expenses (Prent)

[Tony Laciscero]

Arcan IV was a dirtball for the most part. Not because it was filled with dirty fields that were barren, but because the whole place was a craphole.

Tony lit a ciggarette as he stepped off the transport. It was, however, cleaner in more subtle ways. Some of the buildings were painted recently, and there was less detritous blowing around. The New Republic had given this place an adrenaline shot of pride. But it was still Arcan, and it still smelled bad.

The first smart course of action anyone did when looking for someone else was to find a reputable bar. Some place called Yog's was mentioned a few times, and he was supplied with accurate directions this time. The NR was indeed good for something.

Yog's was a bit of a surprise. Most bars didn't greet you with an armed guard behind transparisteel and a sign that said "No weapons beyond this point without proper ID." in about six different languages. Tony shrugged, and deposited a sturdy hand blaster and a vibroblade into the drop slot.

"Sir, whats in the case?"
"I'd rather not tell you, it would be too depressing."
"Sir."
Tony shrugged. "More money than you'll make in twenty years." he said, and walked through the door. After depositing the ciggarette in an aproriate place, he gave the room a thourough examination and checked his datapad.

The bar was a simple, hardwood affair that appealed to Tony's sense of style.

"Whats your poison?"
The bounty hunter shook his head. "Nothing for now, thank you. Could you tell me where room 218 is?"
"Take the stairwell or 'lift up to the seond floor, should be the 9th door on the right."

Prent's room turned up empty. It was possible he wasn't around at all, but he left a message a few days ago that suggested work. So Tony decided to have some poison (cola and Teachers), and wait it out for a while.

[Sanis Prent]

(The comm rang on my way back into Arcan city. As I sped through the skylanes in my speeder, I slid my blaster into the center storage compartment, in between the two front seats. Once done, I tapped the comm online. An aging man in his late fifties was on the other line. Tal Umbura, from the Bar and Grill, if I wasn't mistaken. He wasn't "on the take", so to speak. He only accepted minor gratuities in exchange for being obervant and taking messages. Practically clean as soap, in all realism. Cheaper than having an executive assistant, that's for sure. No sense in even keeping any kind of office hours. The business I did was anything but nine-to-five in its predicability.)

Tal, what's going down?

(He shrugged as he polished a glass)

Got an off-worlder, apparently looking for you. He was askin where to find your loft, and went to poke around for a little bit. He's back at the bar now...apparently has some business with ya.

(That in itself wasn't much cause for concern. I nodded, veering into an approach lane)

Is he packing?

Some heat...but he's checked it at the door. Got a case with him, which I expect is where the business comes into play. Should I tell him you'll be in soon?

(I shook my head)

Nah, I'm close enough. He'll know when I'm there. Just keep his glass filled, and it shouldn't be much of a problem.

(I paused)

He give a name?

Not that I heard, Sanis.

Alright. I'll find it out soon enough.

(Setting my speeder down near the complex, I exited my vehicle...and entered the bar)

[Tony Laciscero]

They say it takes one to know one. In some cases, its true. Tony caught Sanis out of the corner of his eye. Prent's eyes were on edge, evaluating everything as potential threat and as a potential source of income. It was the mark of someone who got shot at for a living, and made a living of shooting at others.

He waved Sanis down.

"Mr. Prent?" Sanis nodded.
"Tony Lacisero." He shook hands. Prent had a steady grip of someone too familiar with firearms. It matched his own. "I think I might have some work available that would be of interest to you. What do you know about diamonds?"

[Sanis Prent]

Not too much, except that they're the price to be paid for some pretty faces out there.

(I nodded to the barkeep, both for my usual, and to make sure Mr. Lacisero's drink was refreshed.)

Its not my forte', but I'm a quick learner, Mr. Lacisero. What exactly did you have in mind?

[Tony Laciscero]

"It's a conceptually simple job. We have to find a certain diamond, and retrive it. The painting also stolen at the same time would be a bonus. But like most simple concepts, it is confronted with reality. The reality is that our thief is very good and our employer isn't too good about security. Which is ok with me: its why I have an income." With a smile, he pulled a datapad out of his jacket, which contained the specifications of a safe that used to contain the diamond. Mixed in was a blurry picture of s'Ilancy.

"Who do you know who could crack one of these in under a minute?"

[Sanis Prent]

(I scrutinized the schematic...my fingertips unconciously drumming on the counter. After a moment, they ceased to move. I slowly drew my tongue across dry lips.)

This looks like a classic time-release drum safe. But...on the inside, its got an inner gyroscopic shell.

(I ran a hand through my hair, sighing)

Which means...there's another failsafe. Maybe a passive circuit held by the safe opener. Maybe not. Could be any number of a hundred things. You could try and guess it till you were blue in the face.

Its impractical for a direct breech. That gyro would rotate over the drum...you'd have to blow the safe a hundred times over for it to even matter.

(I laughed)

Which means you're either needing a slicer with 1's and 0's for testicles, or somebody with enough charm to work an inside angle.

You got any other information on this little science project?

[Tony Laciscero]

Tony chuckled.

"Yeah. Just that picture at the top of the file, some crazy darksider dropped some gaurds, and that it wasn't an inside job."
Tony tapped the datapad once, showing a rather mediocre picture of s'Il. "She pulled a really nice piece of carbon out of the safe with another looker" tapping the datapad's buttons once again, it brought up a terrible picture of Hera," who stole a rather expensive piece of canvas. One of em has some kind of slick modified Hutt caravel and a very good pilot. We don't have any pictures of that because it squished the camera when it came in through a skylight."

[Sanis Prent]

...and you're looking for me to acquire some talent for this little project? The first I've worked with on occasion. The second...I know of her. She's deadlier than a pit of vipers. Liability kind of thing, you know.

[Tony Laciscero]

"You value your skin. A trait I can apreciate fully. I'll pretend you've never heard of the art thief." Tony finished the drink, and slid over a credit chit that indicated it was worth a thousands credits.

"Is there somewhere less public we can discuss this further?"

[Sanis Prent]

(I policed up my drink, standing)

My freigher would be the best. I have a place here, but I don't feel quite at home there.

(I gestured to the door, waiting to follow my potential employer)

[Tony Laciscero]

Organized chaos would have been the only way to term the inside of the Layla. Outside, it looked unremarkable and ugly, if sturdy.

Various objects lay about. A shirt here, a hunk of spare part there. Everything that needed to be uncluttered was. The mess (kitchen) was suprisingly clean, but Tony's hunch on that was that Sanis didn't cook. He offered a comfortable, if worn looking seat.

"Your background with the thief makes you ideal for this, Mr. Prent. Now, I'm going to give you an option of telling me who this is for nine thousand, and I'll walk away and forget how I stumbled across it. The other option is you lend your expertise for twenty-five thousand. Obviously, I came here for your expertise. Bonuses will be based upon how smoothly the mission goes."

[Sanis Prent]

The latter works just fine for me. I don't do these things often, but its not because I've lost my knack.

(I jotted down a handful of particulars...just a rough list of the basics. My stylus came to rest on the datapad, and I looked up.)

Who's the pinch? Its all business to me, but there are some who take this kind of thing like you're kissing their sister. If they're a little loose and apt to fly off the handle, I'll need some room for creativity.

Along with the pinch...how subtle do you want it? Note, I'm not asking why. Why doesn't concern me. But between somebody saying que sera sera and somebody calling in a commando unit, there's a wide frelling ocean of hypotheticals. Lets narrow them now. I can make it so soft they won't see it until they hit the audit at the end of the fiscal year...or I could put it in headlines.

[Tony Laciscero]

"No headlines, please. My employer wants a scare, but whoever did this isn't that dim. So the idea is to simply lift the rock, get it delivered out, and then get paid. If it can be done quietly, so much the better. Now, if there's anything or anyone you need, let me know."

[Sanis Prent]

Alright then. I'll get in touch with our mutual friend, and arrange something fitting.

Now, I would ask who...but asking who is a touchy subject for some. So, I'll settle for when and where. With security like that, I'm able to narrow it down to some stiff competition on the most extreme sides of the morality spectrum...and both are dressed to kill. As I said, I know how names can be in that situation.