A New Career Path (Hera DrenKast)

[Dergan Venitor]

Dergan hated Malastare. He hated the whole damn planet. Not because of the people, native inhabitants or otherwise. Oh no, far from it. He hated it because, everytime he got sent there, it was to the same frelling district of the same frelling city for the same frelling reason. He was sick of it. Speeders whipping by, kicking up the dust and grime that littered the ill-kept streets. Bums constantly clawing and groaning about wanting credits and booze. This was the absolute bottom-rung pit of society.

And it wasn't any of those things that were any worse than in any other big city. It was that every mark he got lately seemed to find their way here to hide out, like it was some sort of damn convention center for everyone who had managed to make a Hutt angry. Didn't these people have any creativity? Hadn't they learned by now that if they ran here, they were going to be found? To Dergan, it almost wasn't even worth the effort. So many of these bantha-poodoo-for-brains idiots were so low on the food chain, the bounties he collected for them barely paid the bills anymore. He really needed to find a big job. Something to get him out from under the lean on his ship. The Hair Trigger was a good little ship, but he had been conned into paying way to much for her, and now it was catching up to him.

Whining about it wasn't going to help finish his assignment, though. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small slip of paper, along with a lighter and a packet of stims. He stuck one of the stims between his lips, flicked the lighter and looked over the paper as he smoked.



Lhen Margos
Tzok's
Juktar Street, City District 4




Name, known hangout, location. Dergan already knew what the guy looked like. He'd dug up some images of the green-skinned Twi-lek before he had even arrived on Malastare. He wanted this part of the job to be short and sweet; get in and out with what he needed without incident. Of course, that was contingent upon no one ticking him off.

Dergan took a drag from the stim, scoping out Tzok's from across the street. Pretty average looking bar, two floors, but only one was likely for patrons. There was an alley off the building's east side, and it looked like a side door gave access to it from the bar. He would keep that in mind, should he need an alternate route out. He doubted it, though. Security in these parts was so lax, he could kill his target, sit down for a sandwich and an ale, and still be out before the authorities arrived. If he wasn't already pressed for time, it would have been a plan he just might have tried. After all, this kind of information extraction was hardly enough to get his blood pumping anymore. Having to actually be careful during an escape would have been a nice change.

'Alright, let's get this over with,' he thought. He flicked away his burning stim and casually made his way across the street. The main door opened just as he reached it, revealing a group of drunken patrons. He held the door open as they stumbled out, then stepped into the bar himself.

As he glanced around the room, Dergan took mental notes on his surroundings. His memory had always been excellent. He had close to perfect recall, something that had served him well in the past. Within half a minute, he knew how many employees were working, how many patrons were in the bar, and how they were group together. Any change, no matter how small, he would be sure to catch. Confident in his surveillance, he stepped up to the bar and took a seat. A couple of meters away from him sat a large, surley-looking Trandoshan. The rest of the bar was a mix of Malastare natives, some Rodians, a group of Nemoidians and a pair of Quarren. There was also human female, sitting alone in the corner, sipping a drink. Fairly young, attractive... she looked a bit out of place, but Dergan didn't think much of it. He didn't care about anyone in the rathole of a bar except himself and his target, who wasn't anywhere to be seen... yet.

"Corellian whiskey," Dergan told the bartender in his gravely voice. All he could do was wait.

[DarthHERA]

Nope, that wasn't him either.

Hera had followed the entry of the new arrival to the bar until her view had been obscured by the broad back of a seated Trandoshan. A tall, capable looking fellow, the man appeared to be looking for someone himself as he made his way to the bar.

Hera dropped her gaze back to the glass sitting almost empty in front of her. The man was not her concern.

Yakor was her concern, however. And Yakor was late.

Hera snarled inwardly. The lecherous little pirate probably caught one in the back she speculated. Even for a Dug, Yakor was scum and had far more enemies that he had friends. However, his credits were worth as much as the next guys and he had contacted Hera regarding a shipment he wanted transported across the Nisso Divide. The "Nisso" was a tricky quadrant of space, notorious for the horizontal trough which was peppered with pockets of turbulent, unstable space running its length. These pockets, if navigated skillfully enough, could, and were, used as hidden harbours for pirate bands who trolled that corridor. From the vantage of obscurity, these pirates could use the element of surprise and in packs assault the unwary. It was extremely hazardous to cross and therefore extremely expensive to transport cargo through there. Enter Hera and her ShadowFaene operation. Yakor had assured her he wanted to make an offer she could not refuse.

But Yakor was late.

Hera decided to give it ten more minutes. After that, Yakor had missed his best opportunity for safe arrival of his precious cargo.

Hera glanced at her chrono and sipped her rum slowly.

[Dergan Venitor]

Nursing the whiskey as much as possible without looking overly suspicious, Dergan used his peripheral vision to monitor activity around him. Everything was calm for the moment, beyond a few boistrously loud conversations. He tried to listen to one nearest to him, hoping maybe they were associates of Lhen, the lowly piece of trash he was waiting for. Unfortunately, his hearing wasn't nearly as good as his memory. He picked up a few words here and there, but nothing from which he could derive full phrases.

He had noticed the woman watching him earlier, when he first walked in. As much as he might have wanted to believe that he was somewhat attractive to the ladies, he wasn't about to dilude himself while on the job. She was waiting for someone, maybe someone she didn't exactly know.

Again, he shrugged it off. It wasn't his concern. The less scrupulous members of galactic society did business in places like Tzok's all the time. It was as if someone, way back in the early days of hyperspace travel, wrote it down as standard operating procedure for getting around the law. It was almost cliche. But, for reasons that could be debated until the end of time, it still worked. Just like how the two oldest professions, protestution and killing people, still were big money for the right people.

The front door opened. Dergan didn't move to look, but let whoever it was walk behind him and further into the bar. Once again, his peripheral vision told the whole story. A Dug, walking on his back "legs," headed right for the table with the human woman.

'Well, that answers that question,' Dergan thought. He downed the rest of his whiskey and signaled the bartender for a refill. He had no more than taken a sip of his second drink when the door opened again, and a new figure shuffled behind the bounty hunter toward a mixed group of beings.

"Hey, Grig, gimme an Imperial Icer. And get another round for all my friend here at the table."

Dergan need barely a glance. A green-skinned Twi-lek, who matched the photo he had seen exactly. Lhen.

'Time to get this over with,' Dergan told himself. He swallowed the rest of his whiskey in once big gulp, then got up from his seat. Little did he know that as he did so, the massive Trandoshan, who had been sitting further down the bar, had been heading for the door, and when Dergan had slid off stool, his boot had stepped down directly upon the toes of the Trandoshan's bare right foot.

The beast let out a roar of irritation and displeasure, then pushed Dergan back into the bar. It yelled in it's own language at the considerably smaller human.

"You clumsly piece of bantha dung! I should rip your arms off!"

Dergan, while caught completely off guard at first, recovered quickly. He stared up at the Trandoshan. He didn't want to give an inch to the slimball, but even he knew when he was outmatched physically.

"Look, I'm not interested in a fight here," Dergan said coldly. "How about I get you another drink and we'll call it square?"

"I don't want another drink, little man," the hulking lizard-like man replied. "I would enjoy pounding you into a pulp much more!"

The Trandoshan shoved Dergan again, and when he did so, the bounty hunters pack of stims fell out of his coat pocket and onto the floor. Looking down at them, the lizard picking up one of his hulking feet and promptly crushed them beneath it.

Dergan's eyes went narrow. This had gone far enough. He was beyond angry, and maybe a little bit crazy. But he didn't care.

"You shouldn't have done that," was all he said the beast.

Dergan spun and threw a sharp elbow into the Trandoshan's gut. The lizard doubled over in pain, stumbling towards the bar. At the moment, Dergan spotted a large dagger in a sheath on the Trandoshan's side. He grabbed it quickly before the lizard could recover. The beast's left hand was on the bar's flat surface as it attempted to balance itself. Dergan took the opportunity, and before the Trandoshan could react, the bounty hunter thrust the dagger down into the beast's hand. The blade stabbed clean through the scaled hand and stuck into the wooden bar, pinning the lizard's hand down. It screamed and hissed wildly as dark blood flowed slowly from the jagged wound.

"Ahhhh! My hand! You stabbed me!"

Dergan picked up the packet of crushed stims from the floor, and placed them on the bar next to the Trandoshans destroyed hand. The beast was half bent over, writhing in pain. Dergan got close to the beast's face, and looked it right in the eyes, a cold stoney look on his face.

"Never... ever... touch my stims."

The huge Trandoshan had been reduced to a crying heap, and everyone else in the bar was in shock. They stared at Dergan.

'Frell,' he swore to himself. 'So much for quick and easy. Time for Plan B.'

He turned back the bartender, who was standing pinned against the back wall, clearly afraid to come any closer to Dergan.

"Sorry about the mess," he said plainly. "Here's a hundred credits for having to deal with him." He pointed to the cowering Trandoshan, hand still pinned to the bar by the dagger. He then set another 100 credits on the bar.

"That's for the next disturbance your customers will have to endure."

Completely confused, the bartender took the money cautiously, and watched as Dergan, rather than heading for the exit, walked further into the bar to where the Twi-lek Lhen was sitting. Grabbing Lhen by the collar, Dergan threw him out of his seat. Lhen hit the ground hard, stunned. His friends stood up, completely shocked. In a flash, Dergan had drawn a BlasTech pistol, and pointed it at the group.

"Sit down," he said coldly. "You move, you die. Understand?"

They all sat back down slowly, watching Dergan's blaster fearfully. They clearly weren't about to mess with him, especially after watching what he had done to the Trandoshan moments before. Dergan picked Lhen up off the floor

"We're gonna have a little private talk, Lhen. If any of your friends here get brave, you're gonna get a hole in your head."

Pushing the Twi-lek towards the east door, Dergan, glanced back at the room. No one had moved. It wouldn't stay that way for long, though. As soon as he was out of sight, the barkeep would contact District Security. He had 10 minutes, tops.

[DarthHERA]

As Yakor projected himself into his seat, much like a pole-vaulter would over a bar...only not as high, and not nearly as gracefully, Hera decided he was even uglier in person. Who said holovid screens showed every flaw had never met a Dug face to face..

"You're late Yakor. Already you have wasted my time. Not a good beginning"

Hera was annoyed and wanted Yakor to know it.

The Dug garbled and glicked his response - a language as unattractive as the race. Hera's mood worsened.

"Use the translater Yakor - you know I cant follow if you speak so quickly"

This made the Dug laugh, as if he was well aware Hera could not grasp what he'd just said, and the Faene Mistress narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Rotten little sloat probably just called her a skralt.

Holding a device akin to a communicator, Yakor restated his response, though not word for word, Hera was sure.

Hera...you are so lovely. And so good to wait. I have good news!

Yakor hopped about from side to side on the seat, clearly he had some happy news he was excited about sharing. However, a ruckus broke out between the Trandoshan and the man who had entered just prior to Yakor. Hera - along with the rest of the bar patrons - turned her attention in their direction.

In short order, the burly alien who took offence to being stepped on apparently, was even more offended (if his wailing and catterwalling was any indication) by the fact that his hand was now firmly pinned to the bar countertop by a lethal looking dagger.

The tall stranger, not satisfied to maim one individual, set his sights on a hapless twi'lek whom he, also, in short order, convinced to step outside for a chat.

Hera smiled, enjoying the performance and admiring the adeptness of the tall's mans skill.

When she turned back her attention to Yakor, the Dug had his tongue licking the inside of her glass, having downed what small remnents of rum there had been and was doing his best to retrieve every last drop.

With a swift slap of one hand, Hera knocked the glass from his lips and with the other, scooped him up by his scrawny throat.

"What are you playing at Yakor?"

She squeezed, and as his eyes bulged from his head like two balloons suddenly full with air, he garbled frantically into the translator.

I thought you'd done with it! Honest! I wanted to celebrate! I sold my shipment to the Hutt Crime Syndicate for a handsome sum and now I dont have to find transport! Good news! No work, only time for play now, Hera!

Her hold tightened.

The Dugs enthusiasm waned somewhat, along with his ability to breath.

Hera.. he croaked

Hera....I brought you compensation money another croak, barely audible, but loud enough to halt the constriction of fingers.

"Compensation...?" Hera was suspicious.

Yakor nodded and tried to smile, which made his mouth look very wierd.

"What compensation?"

With his longer limb, Yakor adroitly plucked a thick envelope from his vest pocket.

Call it, payment for your precious time another croak.

With her free hand, Hera checked the envelope proffered across the table. Deciding that it was acceptable, she released Yakor with a forceable shove to the back of the seat.

Getting up, Hera put the envelope into the folds of her cloak.

"Dont call me again, Yakor"

She turned from the table and exited out the same door that Dergan and the tw'lek did. Yakor watched her, rubbing his throat gingerly, and ordered himself another rum.

[Dergan Venitor]

The side door opened, and Lhen, flailing like a fish out of water, flew from the doorway into a heap of refuse, most of it garbage from the bar. He groaned, rolling over slowly in an attempt to get his bearings. Dergan stepped out into the alley and stood over the Twi-lek.

"Wh-who are you?," Lhen managed to gasp in fear.

"My name isn't important, and even if it was, I wouldn't tell you," Dergan replied harshly. He was in a bad mood, and it showed. Things had not gone as he had wanted. Now, he was going to have to watch his back and be careful about avoiding planetary security. Oh well. At least it would be more interesting than his normal faire of recent bounties.

Lhen tried to stand up, but Dergan quickly shoved him back to the ground. Lhen was terrified.

"Are you g-going to k-kill me?

"That all depends, Lhen," the bounty hunter replied calmly. "If you tell me what I want to know, I might just let you crawl away with your life. If you don't cooperate..."

Dergan drew a folding razor blade from his pocket. He snapped it open quickly, and Lhen's eyes got big.

"... I start cutting things off. Like one of those big tails coming out of your head. I'll bet it would be awfully painful to have one of those severed."

The Twi-lek's breathing got heavier and more rapid.

"I'll tell you w-whatever you want to know. Just p-please d-don't hurt me."

Dergan got right up to Lhen's face, and stared him down. Sweat dripped from the Twi-lek's brow.

"You worked with a smuggler, running weapons between here and Nar Shadda for Turgo the Hutt. He goes by the name of Argus Westyn. I want to know where he is."

Lhen looked confused. "Argus? I don't w-where he is. W-we stopped working together 6 months ago. I haven't b-been in c-contact with him since."

Dergan shook his head.

"Wrong answer, Lhen."

The bounty hunter grabbed the Twi-lek and put him in a head lock. He placed the blade against one of the man's tails, and made a shallow cut into the surface, just enough to draw blood and make the Twi-lek feel pain. Lhen screamed.

"No! Please! I'll talk! I do anything!"

Dergan threw him to the ground. He drew his blaster and pointed it directly at Lhen's head.

"You've got 'till three to tell me where he is."

"But, I don't know for sure!"

"One."

"He might not still be there!"

"Two."

"He's in District 10, running guns out of a warehouse! Look for Rylok Food Corporation! It's a front for smuggling weapons! Please don't kill me!!"

Lhen had cowered, covering his eyes, expecting to meet his end. The shot never came. Instead, he uncovered his eyes to see the bounty hunter reholstering his blaster. Dergan squated down next to the Twi-lek, flashing the razor in front of the man's face.

"If you're lying to me, I'll find you. And if that happens, you'll have more than just a scar on that ugly tail of yours."

Dergan took out a cloth, and wiped clean his razor. Lhen started to blabber.

"I swear, I'm telling the truth. I wouldn't dare lie to you, I don't have the guts to..."


"Get out of here, Lhen," Dergan interrupted, "before you make me want to hurt you even more."

With that, the Twi-lek scrambled to his feet and bolted out of the alley. Dergan sighed, put away his blade, and checked his wrist chrono. 'At least that didn't take long. Plenty of time to make myself scarce before those idiot District cops show up.'

[DarthHERA]

Hera had listened in on the entire exchange, missing only the preliminary "who are you, are you going to kill me" discussion, which always was funny as hell when you were the "killer" and not the "killee". She loved that part.

Cloaked in a shroud of darkness, from the alley shadows as well as by her use of the force to obscure her presence, the Faene Mistress looked on in fascination. Here, in this tall well spoken stranger, was a potential assassin apprentice she may use to begin her 'assassin core' - a new project she was just now ready to start establishing. The question was, would this man be a willing participant.

The twi'lek scrambled to his feet and almost tripped in his haste to run to the end of the alley and to freedom. Hera spoke from the shadows, careful to stay out of striking reach of Dergan's blade.

"You should have killed him you know. Guess where he's off to now in order to warn good ol' Argus (was it?) that some saddist is looking for him..?"

[Dergan Venitor]

The bounty hunter spun around, looking into the darkness in the direction of the voice. He could see nothing except a vague outline. Whomever it was, they were careful to remain just out of the weak luminescence provided by the light just above the bar's side door.

He didn't like being at a disadvantage in any conversation. As such, he feigned indifference.

"It doesn't matter who he tells," Dergan said curtly. "He could tell the entire frelling Malastare criminal underground for all I care. Argus is still as good as dead."

He finished cleaning his blade before flipping it closed and pocketing it.

"Not that it's any of your damn business. Now, if you'll excuse me... I have some smuggler scum to fill with blaster holes."

[DarthHERA]

The Sith shrugged and pushed herself off from the wall she had been leaning against and fell into step beside Dergan.

"Pretty confident aren't you? Well, thats alright - no doubt you're right and it will make no difference to the hapless Argus if he is forewarned or not."

She grinned up at Dergan who, taller than she, was looking down at her with a "why are you still here" expression. Hera ignored it.

"You handle yourself quite well...I watched you with the Trandoshan...You're quite fast," they turned onto the main city thoroughfare, "Some formal training have you..?"

[Dergan Venitor]

He didn't get a good view of his tag-along until she started to walk along side of him. It was the woman from the bar... the one who looked out of place. Dergan wondered why she, of all people, would have any interest in his skills. Or why she would be foolish enough to follow him into the alley. In any case, he wasn't in the mood to answer questions

"I've got a job to do, lady," he said gruffly, continuing to walk. "Go play 20-questions with someone else."

He continued to move away from the bar. The woman continued to stick with him, step for step. He ignored it for another block or so, eventually ducking onto a dimly light sidestreet for better cover. As the woman followed, he stopped and turned again to look down at her.

"You're starting to annoy me," he growled, "and annoying me isn't something you wanna do. So, why don't you turn that cute little tush of yours around, wander back to Tzok's, and go talk to your Dug friend, huh?" He laid the sarcasm on thick. He had little patience for the clueless.

[DarthHERA]

"Why dont you make me"

The retort was a childish one and were it not for the tone in which Hera delivered it, Dergan probably would have dismissed it completely.

But something in the cold, unemotional way Hera spoke invited Dergan to take a closer look with whom he was dealing. If not for curiosity sake - for safety's.

[Dergan Venitor]

Her response caught him offguard. This wasn't just an idle, smart-mouthed retort. She was serious. Her voice, her mannerisms, her expression... whomever she was, or thought she was, it was clear she wasn't going to back down. There was something dark and sinister about her that Dergan couldn't put his finger on. His instincts told him so. And over the years, he had learned that his instincts were right far more often than not.

The wailing sirens of District Security speeders could be heard approaching the area.

"I don't have time trade barbs, lady." He still wasn't going to give her anything to work with, but he didn't want to have to deal with angering her either. "You've got one minute to tell me what the frell you want before I walk."

[DarthHERA]

"You are unaware of what I am"

She opened her cloak enough for the hilt of her lightsaber to be visable against her hip.

"Though, you of all people, should not need such a visual to reveal a Sith standing not 3 feet away from you"

Her eyes bore into Dergan's knowing already a truth about him that he was as yet unaware.

[Dergan Venitor]

The hunter glanced at the lightsabre, then back to the face of it's bearer. Dealing with Force users was not something he enjoyed. Jedi, Dark Jedi, Sith... it didn't matter, he had no like for any of them. He simply stayed away, and as a result, he'd never really had to deal with any of their ilk.

Until now.

Showing any sign of fear would be a bad thing, he had decided. Sticking to his guns would be the best of his limited options.

"I guess I'm supposed to be impressed," Dergan quipped plainly. He crossed his arms. "You've now got 45 seconds."

[DarthHERA]

"I have not come here to impress you" she said with lazy confidence. "I have come to teach you"

She moved close to him, looking him over like one would a prize stag.

"Right now - you are a worm, crawling in a blind world that you call your life.

I will make you a serpent - and open your eyes to what you have so far determined to be ignorant of"

[Dergan Venitor]

The hunter rolled his eyes. He didn't need insults, nor did he require advice. Force-user or not, he didn't take that kind of thing from anyone.

"And you think you're going to recruit me into some Sith cult by insulting me?," he asked rhetorically. "Nice try lady. Try your approach on someone without any willpower. I've got business to attend to, and you're holding me up."

Dergan turned and started to walk away. He wasn't about to listen to anymore, and he wasn't about to be caught be District Security.

[DarthHERA]

Summoning the power of the dark side, Hera rippled the air around Dergan so that the imbalance caused a vacuum about his body. The killer could neither step forward, nor backward, turn aside or make progress in any way he tried. It was as if he were suddenly encompassed about by a pressure void, imprisoning him where he stood.

Hera called to him, her cutting tone clipping about his ears as if tossed into a turbulent well.

"You dismiss forces that you have no idea of. Forces that are your right if you had the sense enough to claim them.

If I insulted you, it was not intentional. It is only my way of stating things the way I see them."

With an adjustment in her focus, the rippled air shifted from an outward turmoil to an inward directed assult. The pressure mounted against Dergan's frame was suddenly suffocating and smothering. Should the assassin feel the urge to panic, it would be instinctive, a fight-or-flight reaction to the pressure being applied to flesh and bone, squeezing his lungs, making his breathing most difficult.

And then, as if by the flick of a switch, the assault ceased. The air returned to normal and Dergan was freed of Hera's manipulation.

"Do you care to reconsider, hunter?"

[Dergan Venitor]

Dergan gasped as his lungs could finally fill again with air, then coughed loudly as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He had to grab onto a nearby garbage dumpster to support himself as he recovered from the Sith woman's influence. His face was red from the lack of oxygen, and perhaps from the anger he felt. He was being toyed with, and there was little he could do. The woman's command of the Force was too much for him to combat.

"What do you want with me?," he growled, gasping yet for air. "I'm just a bounty hunter. I'm not a Jedi or a Sith... I don't know what the hell you're even talking about!"

He coughed again. His side hurt so badly, he wondered if one of his ribs had been cracked.

"Either get this over with and kill me, or let me go about my business," he said defiantly.

[DarthHERA]

"I have no desire to kill you" she said matter-of-factly. "Like I said, I want to teach you"

She stepped a little closer, but not too close. He was wary of her and she could not yet tell how he would react to another provocation.

"I can sense in you the force. And you already have an assassins abilities. I wish to hone both and create in you a tool for myself."

She added airily as if selling a beachside retreat, "It is a reasonable offer - many would like such a chance."

[Dergan Venitor]

"That's impossible," he said, finally standing up straight. "I've never had any kind of Force ability. If I did, do you think I'd be working for the Hutts, going after smugglers and traders who double-cross them?"

As he looked over the woman again, he could feel something in the back of his mind, gnawing and proding at him. It was as if he could feel the power emanating from her. A dark maliciousness seemed to cloak her, seething yet controlled. He couldn't explain how he knew this. Just that, for some reason, he was drawn to it, and to her.

A speeder buzzed past, flashing a spotlight down into the darker alleyways off the main drag that was Juktar Street. It's shape and size made it easy to identify.

"Frell... District Security," he swore loudly. "We have to get out of here."

He moved quickly down the sidestreet, away from the search speeder, ducking new and convoluted alleys as he went. District 4 had been so haphazzardly constructed, the buildings created a maze between them that was almost impossible to navigate. Dergan never went on a job unprepared, though. He spent the time to learn the quickest and most secluded routes between Tzok's and the docking bay harboring his ship. He glanced back only occasionally to see if the woman was keeping up with him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His ship was always on standby, ready for a quick getaway if it should be necessary. It sat, quiet and unassuming, as Dergan and the Force-user entered the docking bay. The hunter used a small remote to trigger the entrance ramp, and he and his "guest" moved inside.

It was somewhat small, and short on creature comforts, but it was sleak and efficient, just as Dergan needed it to be. His own "quarters" were actually part of the old cargo hold, which he modified to a place to sleep. He sat down on his bunk, cringing a little as he did so. His side still hurt. The hunter pulled a med kit from underneath the bed, and dug though it to find painkillers.

"You know, you didn't have to squeeze me like a ripe piece of fruit," he grumbled to the woman, who was looking around the small ship, feigning interest in whatever her eyes fell upon as she waited for Dergan to deal with his injury.

[DarthHERA]

"Could have been worse"

She didn't even bother to look at Dergan as she commented with straightforward aplumb.

"Strong will is often confused with hard headedness in men" she added, as a by-the-by.

Inspecting her surroundings was habitual. She gave the impression of the cabin being too small for her, despite her sleek form. The harnessed power she held was obvious and seemed only just constrained within the confines of her body.

"Your ship is adequate. Do much of the custom work yourself?"

It was as close to a compliment Dergen would get. The longer he knew Hera, the more comfortable he would be with her casually caustic manner.

[Dergan Venitor]

"Strong will is often confused with hard headedness in men."

The hunter rolled his eyes, but chose not to respond. He didn't need anymore bruises. He would have to pick his spots for using any cutting remarks. Every Force-user he had ever met was arrogant, and most had a tendancy to take every opportunity to boost their own egos. This one was no exception. Dergan had summarized, from his own experiences, that the main difference between the Jedi and the Sith were that the Jedi arrogance functioned within a structured system, while Sith arrogance was fueled by doing whatever their own desires might dictate. In essence, he saw little real difference between the two, besides that one had the support of the major political power in the galaxy, and the other wanted to be the ruling power of that same galaxy.


"Your ship is adequate. Do much of the custom work yourself?"

At least this time, she was able to say something without making it a blatant negative remark.

"Most of it, yeah," Dergan replied. "It's hard to afford to have a shop do it on a hunter's salary. So, I learned to be a gearhead out of necessity."

He had popped a couple of painkilling pills, and after putting the medkit back, found another pack of stims to replace the ones he had lost earlier in at the bar. He pulled one out and lit it as he walked over the Sith.

"Alright, let's cut to chase, lady," he said gruffly, exhaling smoke. "You think I've got some kind of Force ability. And you want to teach me some of your crazy Sith stuff. I think you're outta your gourd, but I'll willing to be reasonable and listen to what you have to say. So, start talking. What's the point of all this? And why me?"

[DarthHERA]

Hera turned into the exhaled smoke, the acrid blue grey fingers curling silently around her head and then gently retreating as it disapated into the air.

She took hold of Dergans hands, first one, then the other, and lifted them before her, turning them, examining them.

"The hands of an assassin" she said in quiet respect.

"I too am an assassin of sorts. Killing is a way of life, as you well know, but some are better at it than others. You are one of the better ones, I can tell. The force flows through these hands, pulsates just beneath your skin. You only need to be shown how to waken its might."

She released his hands.

"My name is Hera DrenKast. I operate a smuggling/pirating enterprise called ShadowFaene. But that is all a means to an end. The end being a greater influence of the darkside in the galaxy at large, the means being me at the head of such greater influence.

This involves much orchestration and planning. The networking of influential friends, the manipulating and bullying useful enemies, the removing of certain obsticals..

And I have seen much success. The recent murder of a high-profile Senator has left an opening for a replacement indisposed to my welfare. But there is yet some things to be done before the way is clear to effect this change.

Unfortunately, I am becoming more and more well known, my face much more recognised by those in authority, both by the New Republic and the Imperials. Even some of the Coruscant City Watch can recognize me on sight. It is...an inconvenience...to my agenda."

She smiled darkly. "This is where you come in."

Hera circled Dergan as she spoke. Venitor himself stood still, the only movement was the bringing of cigarette to lips as he listened.


"You would be the first of an Assassin Core I am assembling. A small knot of elite killers that will be an extension of my own hand, to enact my will. The unseen angels of death to pave the way for my purposes."

She stopped moving.

"You would, of course, be paid very well" a wave of her hand in an expansive gesture. "No more budget home-repair jobs for you"

[Dergan Venitor]

"So, like every other Sith, you want absolute power," Dergan commented. It was a bit of snide amusement on his part, but it was far from being rude. He really didn't care who had political power, so long as he could make a living and do the work he wanted to. No government could police everything, nor did most want to. His kind was always be a necessity for the more ambitious and greedy sections of society.

"What kind of jobs are we talking about?," he asked, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth. "Something tells me that assassination is only part of it. You don't put special training on the table just for that."

[DarthHERA]

Leaning her back against an edge of the bulkhead, Hera took on a more conversational tone.

"Well it wouldn't be hits on the local hoodlum element. I'm talking upscale, high profile stuff. Important people. Some of them Jedi. These are not easy targets and more skill than just good aim is required. And there'd be no announcement of your intentions as you did tonight" she added with a note of condescension.

"While many would like to dismiss the Jedi as dandies prancing about with glowing sticks preaching love, peace and may the force be with you - I have yet to meet any that actually conduct themselves this way. Although, I once met one who skipped a little.." she shrugged, and got back on track. "It will take a force user to even get close to these Jedi."

There was a bigger picture also. Being a hand-picked apprentice would naturally translate into a close-knit relationship. They would become part of her inner circle and be entrusted with the most important and difficult tasks. They would be feared. A silent hand to strike down whomever she chose, and no one to stop them.

"You are to be more than assassins. You will be the terror that lurks in the dark, inevitable and unseen like the reaper himself. No one will be able to stand against you"

She smiled almost euphorically, "It will be beautiful"

[Dergan Venitor]

"I admit, I like the sound of that," he said, taking in one last deep breath of stim smoke before flicking it out the hatch of his ship. He didn't leave stim butts lying around on his ship. It made him look unprofessional.

He turned back to the Sith.

"So, let's say for a moment that I agree to this, and I become a... well, someone who takes care of problems for you. What kind of stipulations are you going to have in this... relationship? I'm sure the pay will be fine, but there are other things to consider too."

He stepped back and leaned against a bulkhead, crossed his arms and stared down his potential new business partner.

"I have a style, and a way I do things, and I don't compromise on it," he continued. "I'll take out marks for you. But I do it my way."

[DarthHERA]

"It's your style that appeals to me, apart from allowing your informant to remain a loose thread, but I already mentioned that."

She stood a little straighter now.

"No, you may kill as is your preferred style. However, make no mistake, you will be under my authority. You kill who, and when, I say. You will be apprenticed to me, with all that entails. Obedience, loyalty, submission. Need I be more clear?"

[Dergan Venitor]

That was the stipulation he didn't like. Being put on a leash, told what to do and when. The idea of sitting around, as some sort of Sith cult disciple, while waiting for her to send him after someone was far from how he was used to operating. At least as a private hunter, he was his own man, and could go wherever and do whatever he wished.

"I suppose that means you think I'm gonna bow down, kiss your feet and call you 'master', huh?," he asked gruffly. He pushed off the wall, and walked towards Hera. He stood before her, looming over her and casting a long shadow that hide her own.

"The only master I follow is myself. I complete contracts out of professional pride. I don't know what kind of people you're used to dealing with, but I'm not some lacky you can slap around and expect to grovel in front of you. You respect me, I'll respect you. It's a two-way street."

He didn't flinch, and neither did she. Time to see if playing hardball was going to pay off.

[DarthHERA]

"The bowing and the kissing you could do as the spirit moved you" she grinned lopsidedly, "though it is not necessary"

Forced to look up at him, both by his proximity and the fact that Dergan was head and shoulders taller than she, Hera projected no intimidation.

"The fact that I have even approached you, speaks of the respect I have for you, and for what you are. Being your own master has its benefits, its true. However, if one wants more, sometimes one has to accept that they dont have all the answers. That there are still things to learn..."

She lifted her hand before his eyes. As his gaze fell to her fingers playing in the air, Dergan noticed a marked feeling of danger prickle at his senses. Blue light ignited around Hera's hand, leaping and dancing from digit to digit in a show of the power that she held controlled just beneath her skin.

"..Things only certain people can teach"

She reached forward a little, making as if to touch Dergans chest, the air around her fingertips crackling with power, and the lopsided grin was back.

[Dergan Venitor]

Dergan felt the energy from her hand, but not on the surface, and not as heat or electricity. What he felt was inside him. It seemed to reach into his very being, and awaken an odd sensation that was not entirely new, but rather distantly familiar. He had felt the sensation once before, years ago when... when his anger had reached such a fever pitch that he felt empowered like never before.

And now, somehow, this woman's power was stirring that same feeling. He didn't understand how, or why. But, he knew that he liked it. And that he wanted more.

But, for now, until he found our more about this... Hera... he would play coy.

"Alright," he said calmly, "I can handle that."

He extended his hand, although somewhat cautiously.

"The name's Dergan. Dergan Venitor."

[DarthHERA]

There was a momentary pause as Hera allowed the force power to disipate from her fingers before taking Dergans offered hand. She recognised he wanted to play things close to his chest. It was to be expected when dealing with such a hunter. And so, she would give him time. A little, at least, to mull over the opportunity she was offering him. Right now, all he saw was what he might loose. His autonomy, his free-will, taking direction from someone else. What he yet had to realise that by accepting her proposal, he would be stepping through a door that held limitless potential for him. When that truth hits him, she felt, he perhaps will not be quite so blaise.

"Well, Dergan Venitor, what do you say I come watch you kill Argus and we can get better aquainted along the way?"

[Dergan Venitor]

Dergan looked at his arm chrono. It was late, and verging on early morning. His window to get Argus was much narrower now than he would have liked, but given the circumstances, he would simply deal with the factors at hand rather than worry about what could have been.

He stepped over to storage locker and pulled out a case, not much bigger than a brief one might see a Senator carrying on Coruscant. It was most unassuming, but it contained something far more potent.

"Let's get going then," Dergan said nonchalantly. "The sooner Argus is history, the sooner we can get off of this frell hole and talk about more important matters."

The two stepped down the ramp of the Hair Trigger and headed east out of hangar, towards District 10. Along the way, Dergan was the first to break the business-like silence.

"So, what were you doing on Malastare in the first place?" he inquired. Hera gave him an odd look.

"It's not every day that a Sith hangs out a dive like Tzok's."

[DarthHERA]

"Business" she responded, expounding only that it had "not been fruitful"

But, she reflected, when an opportunity is missed on the one hand another often presents itself to the other. Dergan was a much better proposition altogether and so her trip so far had been a success.

"The Sith are found more easily throughout the galaxy than ever before. It is not like the old days where they were rare and only a Master and Apprentice. In many ways this is a good thing. The evil is more prolific. However, things that grow so rapidly, there comes a familiarity that breeds contempt. I do not feel the Sith are feared as they used to be."

She let her comment hang in the air, seeing if Dergan would offer his own perspective on the matter.

[Dergan Venitor]

Dergan chuckled under his breath, though he was sure Hera had heard it. For whatever reason, he didn't feel it necessary to worry about insulting her, even now knowing of her true abilities.

"Maybe the Sith need to go back to that whole 'one master and one student' bit," he commented. "It seemed to work Palpatine and Vader. From what I've read, those two were as bad as they come."

The two turned another corner. Unlike the filth and decrepit buildings that made up District 4, District 10 was a mass of warehouses, shipping docks and assorted cargo containers. It was still dirty, but being that it actually contained successful commerce that was important to the rest of the city (and planet), security was a bit tighter. Dergan still didn't expect any problems, but it was still necessary to keep a keen eye on anything unusual.

"It seems to me that having so many Sith running around, all with different goals and personal agendas, is a big reason why you aren't as feared as you want to be," he added.

"Then again," he glanced at Hera, "I'm just a bounty hunter, and I don't pretend to know much, or care much, about Sith politics."

[DarthHERA]

Tossing a shadowed glance Dergan's way, Hera tried to determine if he was mocking her or not.

His comments were more astute than he realised. Though "politics" was not the word she would have used, it more or less was what it boiled down to. Agenda's. Ambitions. Greed.

It was herself in a nutshell.

She decided he was not directing his comments at her specifically, though he well could. She had been serving her own ends most of her Sith life. There was no such thing as "for the greater good" when her plans were conceived or implemented. She wanted the power for her own. If others benefited - well and good. But others were not her concern. Never had been.

"Well, times are due for a change. And I intend to see that they do."

A dark smile curled her lips.

"You shall be there when they do, I think, Mr. Venitor."