Running through the Shadows (Damon, Open)

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Come on Stuntie, is that all ya got?"

The growl that sounded from the floor echoed off the bulkheads, mingling with the oohs and ahhs from the crowd that encircled the two combatants. The fallen warrior got back on his feet, but those in the back had to jump or look between arms to see his diminutive five foot stature. The crowd roared, filling the small cargo bay with noise again.

"Ah know you didn't just say that smeg." The shorter man hissed, wiping the blood out of his beard with the back of his hand. His eyes glowing brightly in his skull, shifting colors from cautionary yellow to warning red.

"I"m sorry I couldn't hear you all the way down there. Gonna need a stool 'fore I can hear you." The human combatant laughed and did a victory strut around the edges of the circle, riling up the crowd; slapping hands and bumping fists.

"It'sokay, you mother got down on my level last night." Dead stop. Turn around. Anger in his eyes. Soft spot poked. Taunt achieved. Target charging. Attempting to use taller body to club the face. Again. Ready this time. Duck down. Out of reach. Move head out of path of prominent knee. Drive fist into groin. Opponent drops. Screaming.

"How nice 'o you to join me, laddy." Ryloth grinned down at his opponent, who was holding his giblets and screaming about cheating. "No rules down here, breeder." Swinging his leg he mounted the chest of the human and began systematically pummeling him in the face. Each hit was a shockwave that send blood flying, broke bones, and bruised flesh. It's not over until one of us goes limp. That's what he said. Fool.

Pulling a rag from his pocket Ryloth wiped his face and hands off and then threw the rag at the unconscious man on the floor. "Clean that drek up." He collected his leather coat and winnings and left. The fight was to pass the time, but they had arrived halfway through. The crowd dispersed; some going back to their stations and others joining the dwarf in disembarking.

Stepping off the ship and into the cargo bay Ryloth reached into the inside pocket of his coat and withdrew a pair of shades that he pulled over his eyes. The lights here were so bright. He was so used to the dingy and dark places of his homeworld. Jovan Station made Sattle look like the backside of a troll with it's shiny bulkheads, reputable businesses, and well groomed citizens. Where others might see a land of opportunity; Ryloth saw a bunch of fools to fleece.

It took some searching to find the dirtier side of Jovan; it was less clear cut here. Honest businesses pitched their stalls next to the dishonest. Black Hat Bay. The name gave it away. A little on the nose. Even through the front windows he could see the racks of electronics and other odds and ends. Ryloth needed the components to build a new deck after he had to sell off his last one to get some of the accepted currency. Nobody wanted his Nuyen; despite being exactly like the credits they use out here; electronic.

Moving his short, stocky body through the door and between the racks, he made his way through the store; eyeballing the items he passed. He wasn't entirely sure what half of this stuff was. It was like nothing back in Sattle. The tech was much more advance, more electronic, with a focus on lasers and other unnuccessary flash. What a bunch of drek.

"Hey chummer," he called out as he reached the front counter, "You sell any chrome? I need a new datajack. Mines a little burned out." He pulled his sunglasses off his face, tucking them into the neck of his shirt, revealing his cybernetic eye optics, while gesturing with his hand toward the metal port that was installed directly into the side of his skull.

[Damon Void]

Void was nose deep in a pair of macrobinoculars he'd taken in a few days prior, working on the internals. Capacitor had been shot and the lenses blown out, probably in a firefight of some sort. Wasn't Void's place to ask how the guy, a lanky Twi'lek with a shift face... and really, didn't they all have that, got the thing. He'd gotten it for a handful of credits, and if he could repair it on his own it'd make at least three times what he'd paid.

He'd missed the telltale jingle at his door and almost missed the question that had been asked due to his concentration. He let out an irritated sigh and looked up from the binocs, then down. Then pulled his lips tight to keep from doing or saying anything immediately running through his mind.

It's a customer first. Always remember that. Don't make a short joke. Don't make a short joke. Don't make a short joke.

"I might have a small amount here somewhere."

Damn it. Why'd this diminutive do-nothing have to wander in right now anyway.

The eye was interesting though. Void wasn't sure he'd seen one like it before, definitely wasn't a model he could ID at just a glance. He leaned in, over the counter to look at the port that the squat little humanoid was motioning toward. "Oh yeah, you got some wicked scoring on that. Frell, shocked it's connecting at all."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Only works when you jam it in just right, and even then you gotta tug it to one side. I won't be reading by candlelight anytime soon."

Sullust was a dangerous place, for a corporate data entrepreneur like Ryloth. There was plenty of competition and all the top dogs were willing to pay big credits for anything on their competitors, and the mid-size corporations would do anything to even the field. It was amazing just what they would finance in order to try and get one over on the other, and sometimes you could play that both ways. Sometimes even more ways than that, until you couldn't even remember which corpo you were actually working for. All that mattered was the number in your account continued to rise and you walked away with your life at the end of it. That last op didn't go so well. They never did. Still, he was alive, and was relatively rich once he got the tech he needed to adjust all that cryptocurrency into something actually spendable. A little blaster scoring on his chrome and the lives of all his accomplices was a small price to pay.

"If'n you got the chrome or wire I'd love to see whatcha got. If not, I'm sure I can pull the parts from some of this drek."

He motioned to the racks of electronics over his shoulder with a far thumb.

"Do you take cryptocurrency? Nuyen?"

[Damon Void]

Void held up a finger giving it a small bounce to indicate he knew just what the little guy was getting at. "Dren, man, I got so many ports around here barely holding on just like that - but, I think I have what you need."

He reached into the counter and pulled out a few boxes, digging through them. The guy wasn't going to grab and go, he was fairly certain. Actually seemed like he knew what he was talking about, which was a rarity in his business. Lots of people wandering in curious, some amateurs who get it into their system they want to start a do-it-yourself project they'll never finish, and occasionally someone who is actually on the level.

Shortstack seems on the level. Which means he wasn't going to fleece him, unfortunately. Those DIY types were great for credits, upsell them on pieces they don't need and will never realize because they're only going to work on it for like... a month before forgetting about it. They may even bring it back a year later when they find it again while cleaning. Repeat business.

A guy like this though you don't take advantage of, well - not a lot. You want a reputation with someone like this, keep them coming back for parts and 'good company' or whatever.

After a few minutes of searching he pulled out three options. One was a used datajack, with a small amount of damage, but could easily be made to work, and was in far better shape than what buddy here was working with. The next he pulled out of it's original box, a brand new jack, though the propriety sizing on it seemed slightly off - he could probably sell an adapter with that one, and the last was little more than scrap. All the parts that were needed seemed to be there but it was a mishmash of components. He had asked about pulling pieces apart earlier, so Void figured he'd at least give him the option if he was the tinkering type.

It would also tell Void a valuable piece of intel on his customer, his level of skill and what kind of product he should be offering to him.

"Nuyen?" He said quizzically. "Not familiar with it. I can probably take it, but there'll be a markup since I'll just have to convert it myself. I take other forms of crpto though, Vidoc, Palbux. Standard credits, of course - heck I'm one of the few places on station that'll take Empire or Alliance. Plus," he amended, leaning in, "I do always deal in trade. If you got anything interesting."

Worth putting the feeler out in case this guy had anything else as exotic as his eye seemed to be.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Letting out a low whistle, Ryloth picked up the brand new plug with two fat fingers and held it up to the light; turning it back and forth a few times.

"Clean enough ta wipe your bum on."

He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a datalink in pristine, brand new condition. They were such a throw away part. Everything came with one these days. You had to go back several tech generations, and a thousand years, to find anything without them. Sure those old ones were all down and barely any up, which was not particularly helpful with what he was using them for. He needed that upload speed. His favorite chop shop back home would hand build them for him, but he didn't have the time to run back to Nar Shaddaa every time he needed to fix his chrome. That would be expensive and time consuming. No doubt if he poked around enough he would find a rip-doc on this station that could slam one of these puppies in his head.

Maybe.

Turning the package over he sucked at his teeth while he read the limited specs on display. Not enough concrete info, and without his deck he was in no position to do any research. His eye couldn't connect to the holonet without the deck to slave to. The text "device not found" flashed at the edge of his vision just to rub it in.

"I'll take this piece of sheet. I can make it werk." He indicated the first one the proprietor showed him. "Can ye point me toward some datapads and parts? The older the better. I ain't lookin' fer functional. I'm aimin' to tear them apart."

[Damon Void]

Interesting. He'd admired the pricey bit of new tech before settling on the older one. Void could have chalked it up to being broke - which would have seen him given the parts and swiftly pushed out the door. No need letting someone kick around and window shop all day - but then he asked for more parts to tinker with. Finances were a concern, potentially, but it looked more like he wanted things he could frankenstein himself. The thin slicer could respect that. His own rig set up in the back was piecemeal, and that's how he liked it. The build was part of the fun - as well as helping to keep things off grid as much as possible. No built in firmware that automatically logs you and your intel back to blade banks, even if that was easy enough to spoof.

"I can set you up with some scrap. You want it by the kilo or by the part, cause I can probably throw you a bit better price if you're cleaning out some of my overstock."

Fact was he had a storage room starting to overflow with the junk, Void was always happy to take in broken tech for parts and recovery, but he was starting to run out of room. Better to sell it on the cheap and get some return on it than let it start taking over and eating shelf space for the better products. Back when he'd started the shop he would have happily just let the detritus build up to keep people out. It was meant to just be a cover for his real activities - but surprisingly the shop was profitable. There always seemed to be someone in need of something, and it was getting good enough he'd considered going legit in his weaker moments. Usually when he was 3 dethsticks to the wind out of his mind. Slicing was his life after all.

Still he enjoyed the mask of a pleasant shop keep. Made the front seem all the more legitimate.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Tempting offers. Large quantities of more than likely useless scrap was not very attractive at the moment; not when he was lacking any capacity to store or transport it himself. He'd love nothing more any other day. A station like this no doubt had plenty of higher tech than he was used to seeing in the slums of Nar Shaddaa. Although, if he was a betting man he would bet it was full of cast off kitchen appliances and holo displays that were easily fixable if one had the time and abilities; something most people lacked in one quantity or the other.

Painstakingly shifting through scrap was not exactly his idea of a good time either. One thing would make that a whole lot easier; if his brain case was actually functioning. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself here by trying to dive straight at the problem without actually having the means to accomplish what he wanted once he had the parts. Wasn't like he was going to wait until he dragged it all back to Sattle. That was far too long a time to go without his uplink. And his drone.

"Ya wouldn't happen to know if'n there's a workbench 'round here I can use, or rent. Wageslaves don't take too kindly to ya opening up ya skull and poking about in front of 'em."

[Damon Void]

Void considered that question. There was, of course, his shop's own back room, littered with projects and his personal systems, private servers and a row of towers dedicated to mining Vidoc. He could rent him some space, but that also meant exposing his less than legal activities to someone who was definitely smart enough to recognize the tools of a slicer. He still weighed the option in his head, the credits would be good and it could open shorty here up to becoming a regular, but there was just too much risk to make the reward worth it.

"Not on this level. Might try down a few, though. Less people concerned with good taste and appearances if you head that way."

He paused and thought again. Well frell, actually what about his overstock locker a level down? Nothing there was actually running or too obvious. Sure his lease on the 10x10 room had a whole big section about sub-leasing, but this wasn't renting space for storage - this was just charging a guy to do some repair work out of it. A couple extra credits heading Void's way was always a positive.

"You know what?" He held up a finger giving it a small tap in the air as if just remembering, "I DO have a place you could get that done at, for a rental fee of course."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Name yer price, Chummer."

Such a phrase rarely escaped his lips. He was desperate. Name your price? What kind of drek was that? In his line of work that was a really good way to be taken advantage of, or worse, not taken seriously. A professional knows the price of his work. You don't belly up on a "run" and just let the other guy tell you how much he is willing to pay you. That's how you end up in the gutter, with some cyberscalp ripping all your chrome out of your face. You charge a fair rate, with a little on top. Get that money as up front as you can. You are less disposable that way. No black suited corpo scumbag wants to be out all those credits and then have nothing paid back for his investment, but if you are free then he won't think twice about shooting you in the back.

Corporate espionage is a bloody dangerous occupation on Nar Shaddaa. It ain't Byblos.

Something on the back wall caught his eye. Nestled in a shelf of refurbished electronics was a Cyka-Tok Mk. III Infopad. That was old republic tech, from before datapad became the accepted term throughout the industry. It was third party off brand Neimodian schutta, but it had a big body and a bigger screen; albeit low resolution. Lots a space inside on of those badboys. Lots of superfluous parts that were big, bulky, and outdated. That's what he needed. Space. There was no way he could turn a modern day datapad into a functioning Deck. Not enough space. Too many obstacles. He needed a big frame to start from, and the less bloatware and newfangled features the better.

[Damon Void]

Void saw green flash behind his red-tinted lenses and fought the curls of his thin lips pulling up into a smile. He lost that fight, but he still tried. He knew the little fella would see the smile too, know he had given him too much leeway - and he was tempted to gouge him for giving him the opening.

But there was a slicer trick he'd picked up back on Coruscant, one of his favorites, that always saw him make the most obvious incursion into a system and then NOT take advantage of it. 9 times out of 10 they'd lock things down tight on the point of entry, the datajack or the bit of coding that had given him access and focus far too much on that perceived weak spot, leaving other vulnerable areas unattended. The digital equivalent of ringing someone's doorchime and then sneaking in the back.

The wiry code-runner was always surprised how much of his existing knowledge could be applied to running a shop.

"15 for the rotation and upfront cost, an extra 5 if you need it tomorrow too."

It was a reasonable rate. He paid 90 every 30 rotations for the locker, but he doubted that his new friend was interested in renting a space for an entire month - and it was well bellow the cost of any lodging he was going to find on the station, none of which would probably appreciate mechanical work being done in a room they'd have to clean afterward.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Guy was smiling like some slick suited corpo scum, and it made Ryloth's stomach churn a little. He had started to think this guy was on his level for a nanosecond but now he was right back to where he was when he walked in through the door. This was not his kind of guy. This was their level of darknet slicer wannabe gangster. He wouldn't last a second in Ryloth's world, but he would do just fine in this environment. No doubt he was the alpha predator around here, and isn't that just a little sad. Still, good on the lad for shoveling himself a spot in all of this shiny technotrash.

"Sounds reasonable." Digging into his pocket he pulled out a hand full of what appeared to be credit chits, but were obviously modified. They had a purple LED glow to them and they were much cleaner and shinier than you usual chits; which had a tendency of getting quite dirty as they exchanged hands and sat in pockets all day long. A sharper eye might even notice that they were a bit bigger. More digital storage capacity that way. No doubt the proprietor had seen cryptocurrency chits before, but these ones had just that little bit of extra flair that was common down Sattle way.

And each was a locker filled to the brim with Nuyen.

"How much fer that Cyka-Tok Mk. III?"

He was ready for a price that was going to be astounding. It was an antique even if it was a piece of shit when it was produced. Something like that would sit proudly on a shelf back in his own workshop and if not for the present circumstances he would never dream of butchering one all to pieces and putting it together completely different, and better. That would like tearing down a war monument because you didn't like the architecture style and using the rubble as ammo for your catapult.

[Damon Void]

His eyebrow raised at the odd crypto, probably the Nuyen that had been mentioned. He was already planning to take a hit on the rental, so even if it didn't convert well he'd swallow that cost. Just keep the tab running for now, so everything else could go as he expected, just bits of code falling into place.

Then the variables changed again. "The Mk. III?" He said legitimately stunned at the question, and turning back to look at the old pre-Empire tech on the shelf. That was an expensive request, if he were still back in the Empire he may not have even been able to sell it for anything more than scrap. At least not above the board. Thank you Alliance and your obsession with 'freedom.'

He pulled it down from the shelf and sat it on the table between them. "I'm not going to insult you." He said bluntly, tapping the kit. "500, firm." It wasn't actually firm. He'd take 4.5, but there was no reason to open with that number.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

That was a surprising number. Surprisingly low. Ryloth would have bet all the Nuyen between his fingers that this smartass was going to completely overvalue the piece of tech; for sentimental reasons or some other shite, and charge an arm and a leg for it. It was a collectible, that was for sure. It was not good tech, but that was not exactly what he wanted it for. He wanted a solid platform, and Cyka-Tok products were built to last. If you dropped one you were more likely to crack the floor than the screen. Funny thing, really. They sold it with a protective sleeve. No need for that.

A fair price is a fair price, and he felt far too out of his comfort zone on Jovan to be making any negotiations. He had nothing to use as leverage, and any threats or gruff cold shouldering was just as likely to get him tossed in a cell for the night as much as get him a cheaper price. A little bit of him died to go in without a fight, but he was willing to pay a tax in order to maintain the peace on this unfriendly of territories.

"Deal."

Examining the chits in his hand, he weighed their amounts, added with the market value of Nuyen the last time he checked the index and... yeah. It wasn't great. Gonna cost most of what he had on him. He had credits. Enough to cover this cost, but here was a gentleman willing to trade in crypto, and the next guy sure wasn't going to. They were a rare breed, on this side of the galaxy anyway. He was going to need actual credits for later; for transport and food, lodging and whatnot. He doubted this gentleman was going to let him sleep on his workbench. He'd slept in worst places.

"Righto, let's roll all that together, and let's just make it an even six hundred. That'll cover yer markup for the crypto, and a little extra as am sure I'll be needing more parts as I work. Call it a tab, or don't. I dunny care."

Taking two of the chits he set them on the counter top and pocketed the remaining one. The lightness to his pocket was not a reassuring feeling. Back on Nar Shaddaa no money on hand meant no ways of bribing your way out a surprise visit from some corpo thugs or syndicate goons. Things should be better here, he would think. It was a military installation after all.

"If'n you don't mind, I'd like to see that workbench. Need to get mah heard sorted sooner than later."

[Damon Void]

Void considered the numbers, how much he could squeeze a few more credits from him. The 600 offer wasn't bad and had quite a bit of leeway for a healthy profit, but there was always more money to be made. The real stopping point was when risk outweighed reward. Sure he could keep squeezing, look to get more out of the mark, but if he did that he risked running him off from any future business.

Always leave a backdoor.

The deliberation ended with the word 'tab' - a running total. 600 currently, and unless things changed dramatically, expected, but a tab meant continued business. There was profit here and an open door for more later. It's as win/win as the shoddy looking slicer was ever going to get.

"Deal." He said plainly. Stepping out from behind the counter the wiry hacker couldn't have looked more different than his new friend if he'd tried. At 6' and a rail thin 135 lbs. it left him with gaunt, sunken features. Dark eyes peering out from behind his red-tinted glasses, grabbing a long coat as he left his usual position. It made a metallic thunk as it's length slid across the counter, the insides lined with tightly constrained tools, tech and odds and ends. Each one in a place, and each place sewn into the coat in a way that kept it distressingly quiet despite the materials it hid.

"I've got a storage room a level down that you should be able to work from. It's not a lot, but I've got a chair and a bench set up for a few of my own projects I didn't get around to. I'll show you there."

He motioned to the door, indicating he expected his customer to exit first so he could lock up behind him.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Little poser boy looked a little too pleased with himself as he grabbed his coat. The heavily metallic sound it made on impact with the counter made the situation all the more distressing. Ryloth was really wishing he had his own blaster with him, because chances were the lad had his own piece hidden in his coat. That all he knew he was being led into a storage locker full of bodies so he could be added to it. Drek! If his datajack wasn't fried this would have been a hilarious turn about for his would be murderer.

Nobody ever saw the drone until it was too late.

Now he was likely marching to his death, adjusting his jacket and making a show of patting the inside just out of sight. There was no blaster there, but the human didn't have to know that. Whatever he could do to stay alive long enough to fix the datajack. The new used port was tucked into his pocket. Once outside the shop his shades were fished off the collar of his shirt and pulled back over his eyes.

[Damon Void]

The slicer finished locking up and turned noticing the adjustments that the client made to his coat and frowned a bit, he really hoped the little squib hadn't set this whole thing up to rob him. He'd honestly been far too trusting with the shortstack, he'd almost thought of him like he was a person. Still if he attempted that Void had a few tricks up his sleeve, and more importantly a few favors he could call in if necessary. For now he'd try and ignore it, just go through with the transaction.


He smirked at the shades that were slipped onto the stout face. "Nice." He gave a nodding approval, adjusting his own spectacled face, before walking. "So - you been on Jovan long?" Small talk seemed like the 'correct' thing to do - even if he had very little experience with it.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Nope. Not plannin' on stayin' long neither. Just passin' through. Seeing a friend. Doing a few repairs."

The boy was fishing, and Ryloth was in no mood to reveal anything about himself. In his line of work the less he communicated the better. Anything he said could be twisted and used to break him. He doubted there was anyone on Jovan gunning for him. In fact, his friend, as he put it, was probably the only one here that knew who he is and what he is. That was her job, though. To know things. This little piss ant looked more the type to spread hurtful gossip, so best to give him as little ammo as possible.

[Damon Void]

'Just passing through' meant that he wanted to be sure the tab was settled before they were finished with each other. The 600 he'd been paid in crypto would cover everything so far, as well as any tools he needed to use at the locker, or odds and ends to fix his jack that he'd need to pull from the storage there. If he started getting too grabby in the locker that price would need to be adjusted.

"Shame." He said flatly. "It's a surprisingly nice little station." He got to the turbolift and motioned stumpy inside, before stepping in to push the button for one level down. "Name's Void, by the way." He continued with the attempt at small talk.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Void? That yer slick darknet runner name?"

Nicknames were very common in his line of business. They were ultimately useless as anyone with enough resources is going to get to the bottom of who you are once you've crossed them; however it adds a few layers of anonymity that could protect you for awhile, and also gave you a title to anchor all your achievements to. Ryloth didn't have much use for such things anymore. His actual name had ended up becoming far more memorable than his runner alias. A kid like this, who's probably never stolen through a mega corp server room in the middle of the night in his life, had probably heard about that sort of thing and latched on to it.

There were worse nicknames. Like Short Circuit.

"Ah, I mean nothin' by it. Just a wee bit grumpy. I don't like havin' me chrome not workin'. Put's my tits on edge."

[Damon Void]

Void laughed, like genuinely laughed. It was deep and ended up in a cough. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually found something funny like that. Just the way he said darknet runner like he had him all figured out, or that he thought the slicer would use something so... drab.

"No. No it's not." he choked out through a mix of coughs and laughs before they finally died down. "It's my name. Damon Void."

"Besides, I wouldn't know anything about that sort of stuff." He turned to give him a heavy side eye, "I'm a legitimate business owner - that sort of thing is illegal. And I don't engage in anything illegal on Jovan." He said with an ever present grin as the doors of the turbolift opened and he stepped past a Cizerak security officer - who just narrowed her feline eyes at him in frustrated recognition. She got onto the lift and Void couldn't help but give a pleasant wave to the scowling cat as the doors closed.

"That anyone can prove at least."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

There was a part of him that wanted to point out the name of his shop and how shady he had been this whole time. Doesn't know anything about that my beard! He bit his tongue. The last thing he needed was to exasperate the lad. He might pull out of the deal, and with no drone and no blaster Ryloth didn't exactly control the means of taking back what he would lose. Not at this time anyway. You can bet your credits that he would be back in a week with a whole crew to rob this punk for everything he had. There would be no profit there, but it would be a moral victory in the least.

"No sense in that, anyhow. A military port ain't the sort of place to go digging. More trouble than profit. Any wannabe Darknet Runner would be wise to keep his head down 'round here. Liable to get caught before they even get past the front desk."

Now it was his time to smile at his own joke, at Damon's expense. Naturally.

[Damon Void]

Void frowned. He knew he was being played, knew he should say nothing or laugh it off, but still this little snot. Shouldn't he be digging for gems somewhere and picking bugs out of his teeth?

"Or at least be smart enough to not talk about it in public." He said sharply. This guy had guts, sure, but was thick as the mud he belonged in if he was this brazen. He was wrong, besides. You could absolutely slice, run and hack from a place like Jovan - it was all about what could, and could not, be proven. Had he been visited by station security? Multiple times, of course. Could they ever prove he'd done anything? Not once. THAT is how you survive on a station like this. By being smart. This guy thought he was 7 feet tall, despite his actual vertical impairment. Probably the big fish in his little pond. Probably thought the same thing about Void, or worse this guy was just a really bad security officer trying to get him to admit to something.

Void had survived in the heart of the Empire and only left when the profit, and real estate, was gone. He'd set up right under the Alliance military's nose and fit in like a dream. He hadn't survived this long by making stupid choices.

They got to the large metal door that housed his private locker and pulled out a keycard, slipping it in to open the thick shutters, and turn on the internal lights. The place lit up after a moment in a dusky yellow from a single ceiling light above. He motioned him in and closed the door, instantly stealing the one seat and leaving the workbench to the guy's needs.

"I had been planning on leaving the key with you and heading back to the shop - but suddenly I think we need to have a talk." He leaned forward a bit, "The cats and the Alliance run a tight ship on Jovan. Lots of station security. Lots of business owners who like it that way and are more than happy to pass over any security feeds they pick up that they think could threaten that peace and security. If you get my understanding." He said the last sentence slowly - dropping any subtlety he'd been engaging in. "Because you're right. A wannabe wouldn't last a week here, I've seenit, but I've been here for cycles."

"Black Hat Bay is a name I use because it makes me laugh." He said bluntly, "Don't confuse that with this place either being a cakewalk or me being stupid."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Gotcha

He smiled to himself; content with putting the little runt right where he wanted him. He had all but directly admitted that he was the very thing that Ryloth was joking about; and one with a very soft shell that couldn't handle a little pressure. Just a squeeze and he gave it all up that quickly. It was amazing he had survived this long considering the stories he'd heard about Cizeracks and their ideas of criminal punishment. He got the feeling a lot of criminals in the cluster never see the inside of a prison cell. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, but it definitely turned him off of doing business in their spheres of direct influence.

The lad opened a door and inside was exactly what he promised, and some! There was a workbench. It was alright and all. Nothing like his own rig at home, but to each his own. Beggars can't be choosers and all that drek. The real treasure was the rest of the unit, which was stacked high with salvage overflow. No doubt a backlog of work the lad was in no position to handle on his own. From the looks of things it was a one man show up there. Running a counter for corposlaves while refurbishing trash and probably running elicit operations on the side. Where does the lad find time for sleep?

Then the door shut and the lad got serious, and it took everything in Ryloth's power to not laugh. Instead he pulled his shades off, tucked them out of sight beneath his beard in the collar of his shirt, and crossed his arms with a big, blocky toothed grin on his face.

"Keep yer trousers on, Laddy. I ain't here to piss in your soup. Like I said, I'm just here for the repair and to see The Lady. Force willing I'll be gone 'fore..." Turning his wrist over, he looked at the upside down chrono on his wrist. "... the next mornin' cycle. I ain't here to cause any trouble. Can't very much do that anyhoo. Not 'fore I fix me noggin' an' build a new Deck."

[Damon Void]

The guy was either an idiot or a savant with how much bravado he had. Right now Void was leaning heavily toward him being an idiot - he was so convinced of his own handle on the situation. He would absolutely settle up if necessary when this was all over, this guy was going to get fragged in the wider universe, he was nearly certain of it.

The young slicer gave a shrug and hopped off the chair, the frustration from before melting into pity.

"Fair enough. Take the warning or don't. It's not skin off my neck if statsec has their way with you." He held up the keycard and considered. "Room is inventoried and monitored, so don't get handsy with the equipment." He sat the card on the bench and walked for the door. "If you use anything extra I'll expect compensation."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Rest easy. I ain't gonna steal your scrap. Swear on me beard. I ain't some deckhead looking fer his next fix. A dwarf always settles his debts."

Drek, this kid was suspicious as hell. Ryloth could understand. Somewhat. He was a strange man who looked the way he did. He did not look like the reputable type, not here on Jovan. Back on Nar Shaddaa this getup was good enough for church, weddings, and funerals. The jacket and shades came off for court hearings. This was a reason he rarely traveled to sophisticated worlds. He couldn't blend in, and he had no reputation to pull on. Sure, he could tell the kid exactly who he was and what he does, and could do, but that was not likely to get him anywhere on a tight arsed space station like Jovan.

Bunch is arseholes.

Reaching down to the front of his pants he pulled a thin metal bit from it's hiding place on the backside of his belt buckle, and with it he inserted into an indentation on the metal plate that ran along the side of his head, and popped the cover right off, exposing a mess of wires that connected the plate to the circuitry below, and ran seemingly into his cranium. It was all blinking lights and layers of thin machinery stacked on top of each other.

"Don't happen to have a mirror, do ye?"

[Damon Void]

Void stopped at the question and turned, attention immediately drawn to the wet-wire work on display. Now that was legitimately interesting. He took a step back to admire it, subtle wiring and circuitry, real old school work - nothing like what most systems would run these days. Honestly it was the first thing from the dwarf that had impressed him. Void fished around in the toolbox of a jacket he wore and found what he had been looking for - a small mirror off a speederbike, modified to have a slightly longer handle and thinner profile.

It was a surprisingly handy little tool for watching around corners when working on terminals or servers you weren't meant to be on, as well as being thin enough to slip into the casing and frames of some systems to give him just a little more visual clarity when he needed to actually work in the guts of a machine.

He sat it on the table next to him and took the time to look over the exposed brainbox from a few angles. His estimation of it being old school was on the money, he'd worked with similar technology on Coruscant when he'd held his own little empire in the lower levels, scrounging tech no matter how dated and slapping it into workable configurations.

"What kind of speed are you pulling out of that setup?" he said with growing interest.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Taking the mirror he first turned it back and forth a bit, admiring the nice little contraption, before he turned to the work bench and found a nook in it's structure to wedge the handle of the mirror into so that he could free up both hands. Checking over the tools on the bench he selected a micro-spanner and a driver and applied them to the exposed compartment. The dataport went through all of the mess. Peeling back the outer-shell only left centimeters of the neck of the port exposed. Using the two tools he began to loosen and unseat the burned out port.

"Level three down. Level five up. Nothing too fancy. Most modern tech ain't compatible with a brainbox like this. I have it customized for upload speed over download. Sending data, that sort of thing."

He spoke absently, not getting too into detail with the setup. That would require more concentration then he was willing to divert from the operation at hand. Steeling himself, he the last tiny screw free of the assembly and set it aside with the others. Grabbing the port with the edge of the driver he nudged it slowly outward, using the surface of the plate for leverage. He hated taking the port out, and burning them out happened often enough. It felt like blowing a Seeker Droid out your nose, and when it was out it just left you feeling so empty you were afraid your head would deflate like a balloon.

Once it was loose and sticking out enough he grabbed it with his thumb and index fingers and pulled it completely free of the slot. The port was attached to a dedicated power cell that made it chunkier than one might imagine in so delicate and tight fitting an assembly. At the very back of it was several wires that went back through the hole it was removed from. From the outside it looked like they went straight into his brain. There was not much slack on the cords, which made these replacements a pain. Always a pain. Using the tools he removed a few more connectors and the burned out dataport fell off, hitting the floor and skittering out of sight.

Good riddance.

[Damon Void]

Three down, five up was surprising. He'd expected a cap of 3 at best either direction considering the age of the pieces - he had to wonder if there was slightly more under the hood, so to speak, than what he could tell from looking. Focusing on upload over download was also very interesting as it meant his 'friend' here likely did his work while in transit or from someplace other than a base of operations. He wasn't grabbing stuff to pick through on his own time.

He considered carefully, going over what someone with a rig like his would work on. It was like a puzzle to put together. Tough-guy bravado, body that, despite it's disadvantage, probably backed it up, burnt out jack and looking to unload data as quickly as he could manage.

Why hello there my courier friend, what kinds of packets do you deliver? The slicer's estimation of the dwarf had gone up - and a thin smile broke out on his lips as he looked for an angle of his own in all of this. There had to be an exploit to be worked in all of this that benefited him. He sat back down in the chair, despite his earlier insistence that he was leaving to watch him work and ponder.

Turning him in to enemies he'd likely made? It wasn't beneath Void, but it was also what a script-kiddie amateur would do. That wasn't who Void was, no matter how he came across. He doubted the little guy needed a friend or partner in all of this - what does someone like this need from someone like him?

Safehouse. Jovan is nestled in the protection of the Cats and the Alliance, and Void had experience in fortifying himself anywhere he ended up - in both the digital space and the physical. After all wasn't that essentially the service he was providing now? A safe location to work on his kit. it wouldn't be hard to refashion the storage room into a more secure space to work from. He'd give the deliveryman his space for the moment, let him work, but he was already going over the offer in his head.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

His fingers were already starting to ache from the delicate work. The fat sausages he called fingers were hardly built for this level of micro. In fact, working on a system like this yourself was heavily frowned upon and was a good way to cross a wire and fry your brain. He'd seen his fair share of kids brain dead in the gutters after trying to do some self modification or letting an unqualified friend try to fix something in his garage instead of going to a proper chop shop and having a ripper doc do the work himself. Yeah, that cost more, but it also meant you were much more likely to come out the other end alive.

That wasn't saying much, as there was always a risk of dying in the chair.

The new port was connected in short order and the assembly was pushed back into it's hole; an affair that involved gritting his teeth real wide and trying not to squeeze his eyes shut as the uncomfortable feeling racked his body. After screwing it back into place he used the mirror to check the rest of the case; looking for blood, burned out circuitry, or anything else out of the ordinary. It all looked fine, or rather fine enough until he could get back to Pattinkos' on Nar Shaddaa to get a proper fix. Carefully he stuffed the wire slack back in and closed the outer shell of the case.

Once everything was shut and sealed he was able to run a diagnostic, the data playing out across his optic implant. The return signal was not entirely ideal but it was working. He could establish a connection to the Holonet through a local unsecured terminal. He could finally breath a sigh of relief. He almost felt whole again. Just one more thing.

Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a piece of anti-static cloth and unfolded it carefully to reveal a short datastick about two inches long. It had no markings except for three numbers. 012. Taking the stick he plugged it into the newly installed dataport, and waited. It took a moment, a progress bar popping up in the interface slowly spreading until hitting 100%, and then his mind expanded. A second pair of eyes, a murmuring of data in his mind, and the feeling that he was no longer alone. Back in the transit center of the space station, nestled in with the luggage, a box opened up and something escaped into the air.

"Ahh, that's betta."

Cracking his neck loudly, and then his knuckles, he pulled the Cyka-Tok out and laid it on the table. One thing completed, now he needed to rebuild his deck. There was no way he could do his job without one. No slicer was worth anything without his tools.

[Damon Void]

He had sat patiently and thought about what he could say, what he knew about couriers - which was admittedly not as much as he really should. Oh he'd certainly stolen information, brokered it even. But there was a difference between the sort of work he did and the sort that a dedicated runner did. Someone like his short buddy here transferred data securely. Sometimes stolen, sometimes not - but it always meant dealing with a particular kind of scum. Void preferred to steal information he could use himself or that could benefit him for leverage or blackmail.

What he did know was that this needed a change in tactics if it was going to work. And a bit more directness than he'd expected to use.

"You run data." He said matter of factly, not leaving room for debate. "I have to imagine that's left you with enemies." He was careful when he said that last part, even the slightly misinterpretation could come across as a threat, and if the burly slicer thought Void was threatening him this entire deal would be shot. "So I have to wonder what I can do for..." he paused, and rubbed the back of his head, "No, sorry about that. That's... you know, sales pitch? I get so used to putting on that face for the crowds it's hard to take it off." Make himself seem like a real person past the scuzzy junk dealer persona. I mean he was after all right? ...Right?

"Anyway, on the level. Respect. Tough work. Has to be times you need to lay low off the grid, yeah?"

Hook.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Ryloth's back tensed and he straightened up from the slight bend he could manage over the workbench, considering his height. His right hand tensed up so tight his knuckles were turning white.

So the lad figured it all out, did he? Cornered him in this little room with no obvious weapons in order to do what exactly? Extort him? Fat chance of that. He turned on the shop owner, looking him in the eyes with his own real and fake set. The realistic iris of his cybernetic eye was gone, replaced all with a glaring red.

"Don'tchu go stickin' yer nose where it don't belong. It's all shit down here, and you're squeakin' clean for comparison. Just lookit you. You don't look like you've got an ounce of chrome in yer whole body. If you're thinkin' we the same, you're dead wrong."

He took a step forward, just to put the fear in the lad a wee bit, and then turned and hit the activator on the door into the room, which opened to reveal a floating black orb just outside. A modified DRK-1 Dark Eye Probe Droid. By all appearances standard and stock, but there was much more hidden beneath it's reinforced shell and obscured behind the claw-like exterior armor panels. It floated inside and the door was shut behind it. It moved over to above the work bench, and then turned and looked at Damon with it's unyielding black eye. It was not a droid, though. Drone, rather. Ryloth didn't trust Droids. This one was under his direct control.

That was what the dataport and stick was about. That was the reason for all of this. To get this functionality back.

"I'mma level with you. Jovan ain't exactly the sort of place I would go to lay low, if that's what yer suggestin'. If this weren't the lair of the Emerald Lady, I wouldn't come here at all."

[Damon Void]

Void didn't back down, didn't flinch, didn't even waver. Ryloth wasn't the first tough to try and intimidate him, he wasn't going to be the last. You don't look like Damon did, like a stick of a human without everyone expecting you to be an easy mark. The way he casually tossed out he was here because of the, what did he call her, Emerald Lady? As if he was impressed with knowing the snake.

"I like your bot." He said without a single change to his tone, he didn't try and intimidate back. He wasn't looking to get into a shouting match that would draw attention, even as secure as this location was it was bad policy to bring StatSec down on you.

"There are three things you're wrong about in that statement." Void said with a calm and collected tone. "I've got chrome where it matters, I'm anything but clean and the fact that you wouldn't normally come to Jovan at all is the point."

He turned from the dwarf demonstrating he wasn't scared or intimidated, least of all in his own storage locker. He hopped up onto the workbench pushing back a few projects with his palm to make space as he did so, only a few feet from where the Droid hovered.

"Why would anyone expect you to spend one second longer on Jovan than you'd ever have to be?" He said flatly, keeping his palms braced against the bench as he leaned forward. "That's what makes it a great hiding space."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

The lad had a point. But only barely one. Sure, his usual enemies would hardly come looking for him on Jovan. Most of his operations took place on Corporate worlds; Byblos, Nar Shaddaa, Coruscant, Kuat, Sullust, and the like. Jovan was very much not one of those places, and additionally it was a space station and a military outpost. The reason no one would think he was hiding here was because it was a dreking bad idea. There were fewer places that would be worse to go to ground on. The military would give him up in a heartbeat if they found him; after all, megacorps always got their hands deep in the military complex and their pockets.

Secondly, if they did come for him here, there was no where for him to go. A planet is a big place, and a city planet is an even bigger place due to the density. There was was plenty of places to go, plenty of places to hide. Jovan was tiny by comparison. They could shut the docks down and comb the place one closet at a time until they eventually found him. He didn't have the kind of contacts here to smuggle him off station. This wasn't Cloud City, after all. That was an entirely different kind of beast, and he could survive there for years under lockdown. Jovan was all risk and absolutely little reward. And that was not even considering the string from which this carrot was dangling.

"I've heard worse ideas. What's in it for you."

Crossing his arms the red lens of his cybernetics shrunk down until it was only a pinpoint.

[Damon Void]

Line.

"Your continued business as well as a rental and maintenance fee." He said bluntly. "Plus an up front cost to re-fit this locker into something more secure. Taking out the back row of storage for a false wall and setting up in there with the essentials. I can't get you indoor plumbing, but I can retrofit some systems designed for camping and travel to at least work through the basics, as well as my assurance that I can remove you from any incoming or outgoing ship information and keep you off vid feed on the station. Assuming you don't just handle those concerns on your own." He held up a hand so as not to imply the other slicer was incapable.

"More than anything though?" he leaned in again with a sly look, "I like a good challenge."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

The lad had a way of sounding genuine, but Ryloth wasn't buying it for a second. Kid should became a politician with soft lips like that. There had to be more to this than he was letting on, and in his line of work he expected a certain level of backstabbing in all of his interactions, but there was also a sense of professional honesty that typically ran between slicers. He wasn't feeling it here, though. The offer wasn't all that great, either. A hideout he would probably never use would be an expensive drain on his purse. It really just sounded like the lad wanted to do some remodeling and needing some credits to do it.

Still, not everything he said was complete drek. This was the last place a lot of his enemies would come looking for him, and most of them would not even set foot here even if they did know he was here. The Hutts and outer-rim warlords wouldn't even be able to get onboard much less have the elbow room to grease him. However, corporate assassins and military spec-ops would have no problems getting him here. I guess that meant changing up tactics a bit so that he never pissed in the Alliance or Empire's boots. There was no way to stop the Corposlaves from gunning for him. That was where his bread and butter was.

There was, of course, another obstacle.

"That's all well and good, but I don't have that kind of cred on me. So unless yer looking for an I. O. U until I can pay, I don't have the means t'pay for more than what I already have."

[Damon Void]

The lack of credits didn't surprise him. He'd come to him needing to trade in crypto, and foreign crypto at that. He leaned back and thought for a moment, there still had to be an opportunity here, he just wasn't seeing the angle. He could do it on IOU, but that would come across desperate - make the whole deal seem even more shady than it likely already did. This was a potential continuous revenue stream, and the shop, while profitable was just a front. Side businesses like this, like his profit skimming set-up at the slug-races, slicing for private clients like ole' birdface, and of course various schemes through the holonet. That's where he made his real money.

Dren he was loth-catphishing a guy online right now, playing the part of a 14-year-old Imperial Academy brat hard up for credits who just needed a wealthy and morally broken benefactor. There are some truly sick people lurking on the holonet, and Void was more than happy to exploit them. A bunker like this could net him a mint, especially if he could rent it out to the occasional individual outside of his new friend. If he wasn't going to be here most of the time, no reason not to put the space to use.

Void bounced his head, debating the path to take. He could take the IOU, maybe ask him to come back later if he was interested - but that risked losing this venture entirely, or maybe there was something else he could do.

Void leaned in conspiratorially, "I have a client who needs information related to Alliance ship and crew movements on and off of Jovan." He said simply, "Just the schedule that is kept, nothing serious - but that information is kept in a private server rack that isn't connected to the station's internal or external net. Physical transfer only. While StatSec can't prove I've ever done anything to get me thrown into lockup or kicked off station, they're very particular about me not getting near their precious hardware with anything even remotely resembling a storage device. Believe me, I've tried." He scoffed in frustration at his humiliating last attempt, the data stick had been hidden in a hollowed out section of his boots. He had expected to be stopped and frisked, but when they sat him down, removed his boots and then dissected them in front of him he'd all but choked. It was the closest to being arrested he'd ever come on the station, and spent at least an hour in the Security chief's office being lectured and berated before being forced to walk back to his shop barefoot.

"But this is your job. This is what you do, right? Perfect little hiding spot." Damon pointed at the short man's head. "You get me that schedule and I'll front the costs myself. At least until you need to use the damn thing."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Ryloth saw the grease coming a mile away. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew the guy was going to offer him a job, and he was going to reject it immediately because he had a strong hunch it was going to be something grossly beneath him. Crack a few SINs to resale, clean up an illusive directory, or worst yet scrubbing data off the holonet. The kind of stuff he could do for lunch and wouldn't even be worth his time. However, the kid came out of the empty void with a job description that sounded more like something out of a spy holovid than reality.

The boy needed to be set straight, and while he was loath to speak so freely about his profession when there could be recording devices in the room, he also was recording with his drone and saving the data, backing it up in his own internal redundant systems. No doubt the kid knew it too. That meant they were on equal ground with each other, and only the death of the other would prevent that kind of information from getting out, and neither of them were really in a position to kill the other right now. Ryloth had embedded weapons systems, but damn if they weren't a pain to operation. Literally.

"I think yer might have the wrong impression. I don't do military installations, 'less they are corposlave private force; and even then I would be going in with a full team. Assassins, heavies, extra slicers, and snipers. Heavy explosives and top of the line weapons. The kind of stuff that levels the field when there ain't much of you and lots of them. I mostly do corporate seizures, and not the kind where you slip in through the kitchen like some pixie. I'm talking fast and bloody dangerous. Fly a repulsor-craft right up to the seventieth floor of the megacorp, pop a window, rush in, kill security along the way, crack the system, grab the data before they can scrub, and back out before they know what hit them. Sure, you can do it quiet when it works, but I don't exactly blend in most places; and def not on Jovan. I stick out like a hairy thumb."

[Damon Void]

"I get it, I get it." Void said with an apologetic smile, "You work loud and obvious. I really should have expected as much." He raised his left hand to motion in a general 'just look at you.' fashion. "If you don't think you can handle a job like this, I can't exactly demand you do it." Void leaned back again, smile never faltering. There were a million pathways to what someone wanted, and while he preferred stealth himself - what the little courier was talking about was sometimes a necessary solution. Including during negotiation.

Sometimes you just had to brute force your way in. "I guess I went out on a limb there, yeah? I thought you were on my level."

His right palm braced a little harder against the bench, steadying him for the possible consequence that could come from the implication. If his read was right, this guy thought himself a number of steps above and beyond Void.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Now the kid was trying to play him the other way, and damn if he wasn't effective. If this was anyone else, and anywhere else, they would be one short joke away from getting shot through the boot and then kicked in the head while they're in the dirt.

"Ah can do it. I never said I couldn't. All I said was I don't want to piss off a military force that controls half the bloody galaxy. That's a lot o' heat on my ass, and I ain't exactly warm to the idea of startin' over in the IMP. Sure they got Bespin and some titans of the industries over there, hell I hear they even got a dragon; but the Alliance is easy street. They don't even know what my kind of crime looks like over here. Bunch of babes. Like fleecing a blind nerf. Their systems are probably real vulnerable, easy to break. Yeah. I could do it. Of course the difficult part is getting access. Drone helps with that. Still not ideal. Can't run if I get caught. Can't fight neither. Don't got my blaster. Real shame that. Yeah, you looking for a schedule? I need some more details 'fore I sign on."

[Damon Void]

The blow the thin slicer had expected never came and he relaxed his grip on the table, just a little. He was still dealing with a volatile little man, even as his new 'friend' seemed to be talking himself into the job. He loved that part. Where you wounded someone's pride just enough that they'd talk themselves up, build themselves back up, and in the process get on board with whatever you had plans for. It was dangerous work though, he wasn't a fighter, and he didn't trust he'd last a minute in any kind of confrontation with the stocky loudmouth. Especially not with the droid... drone? Whichever, hovering about. Of course Void was a schemer and a planner. It was all about finding, and exploiting, vulnerabilities.

"You want specifics? I can give you this much, I need intel on one specific ship and one specific crew member. That's it. I need to know when they're expected on station, and expected off." He nodded a bit, "You come on board I can give you the hard data. Name, rank, which ship - but I can't offer that without a guarantee. Client confidentiality, I'm sure you understand."

The talk of IMP space sat off with him, just a bit, like someone you don't know mentioning your family. He'd grown up on Coruscant. Cut his teeth in slicing and hiding out in Imperial systems, as easy to fleece as the Alliance was, there were days he longed for the familiarity of the lower levels. If this was an Imperial station he'd probably had less trouble accessing the server rack, in all honesty. Even if all other security features and restrictions stayed in place, there'd be someone to bribe or blackmail his way past.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

The numbers were crunching in his head, the calculations aided by the whirling machinery implanted in his head, and occasionally corrected by the software running in the drone. A database for ship movements and personnel transfers for the entire Alliance would be massive. No doubt they would not have a complete copy on board the station. Just whatever current information they needed access too. No doubt even the Alliance wasn't stupid enough to think they could store it all here without issues. The Empire undoubtedly had spies thick as thieves in here. He wasn't entirely unconvinced that Damon was not a spy himself, or somehow Empire adjacent no matter what he said. However, the fact that he was looking for a single ship, a single entry for an individual crewman. That would narrow things down. Less fishing, more crunching.

And that was exactly what his speed is. Smashing your way in and taking the whole server with you was not always the best option. That's a lot of heat later on when your trying to find what you need. He was good at finding exactly what he needed. Sure, it was rare for it to be so small a data entry. Normally it would be a whole project's data, or an entire security system. This was not finding a needle in a haystack. This was finding a grain of rice in the dunes of Tattooine. Still, the cards were definitely stacked in his favor. He had the equipment needed to comb through that much data, and it was already part of his head. The deck and drone were just gravy on the biscuit. The hardest part is going to be getting access to the system itself, not finding the data.

And that didn't even speak of just how much of a challenge this was, and how much bragging rights he would have afterwards. It had him licking his dry lips.

"Ya got me there. I'll do it."

[Damon Void]

Void's hand relaxed against the table as the words echoed in the confined storage room. The metal box of a room was packed to nearly the brim with junk and bits of scrap and trade he'd collected since he first started the business. It was a good place to tinker. It was a better place to do business, especially with someone with as much integrated tech as his new associate.

Little more than 3 meters end to end and top to bottom, it was a cramped, confined square of a box, and buried dead center in it was an Old Republic EMP grenade. He'd gotten it in trade from some twitchy little spacer who had clearly been running from something or someone. He'd actually taken a hit on that trade, letting go of a targeting system that he knew was worth several hundred credits more than a bit of Republic war surplus was. But it was a perfect fit for his needs, so he'd justified it to himself. The effective radius of one of these old droid poppers was 3 meters. Edge to edge and top to bottom, the entire room was a weapon if things had gone south during negotiation, but it hadn't - and he felt comfortable pushing the remote out from under his palm and back into the various piles of scrap that littered the table - indistinguishable from any of his other collected junk.

With it pushed out of sight and the immediate danger over he raised his right hand and extended it to Ryloth. "Excellent. I can get you the details of the job as soon as we get back to my shop."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Preem."

His red lens examined the hand for a moment before he reached up and took the younger man's hand. It was the kind of motion that would get you gutted and your chrome salvaged in the mean streets of Sattle. It was such a sanitized motion, the kind you would expect from corposlaves as they jerk themselves off in their cubicle prisons. It was a good way to get yourself mistaken for some corpo dipshit trying to fly on the downlow. In the streets you existed on reputation, and with that reputation came trust and respect. Honorable agreements like handshakes were for gonks.

Ryloth was, if nothing else, adaptable to the situation.

"Lead th'way. Sooner we do this the sooner I'm out of ye debt."

He didn't like not having his new deck squared away but that could come after. It was going to take him awhile to prepare for the op regardless. He hadn't come to Jovan with the expectation of pulling an op here. The exact opposite, in fact. So now he needed to do intel runs, walk the area, find access points, figure out what kind of security he was up against, vulnerabilities and exploits, and then finally put together a plan that employs all of that and building a deck custom for just that operation. He'd no doubt spend a few hours alone just trawling the darknet looking for any intel he could find on Alliance tech specs and what kind of operating systems they typically run. Find out exactly who built this station, and in what era. What's factory, what was brought in by whomever has owned it all these years. This wasn't always an Alliance operation. They haven't even been around for long, and if anything was true about this strange galaxy is that everything changes.

All. The. Time.

[Damon Void]

Void grinned wide, a salesman's grin. He knew he probably looked like the kind of scum shorty despised, but that was part of the disguise. He really had taken to his new life after spending so long in the slums of Coruscant by himself. Who knew he was a people person, yeah? He motioned for the door and opened things up to let Ryloth walk by, taking stride in step beside him a moment later, and locking up behind him. He'd need to start going over his own blueprints for the space when they got back, figuring how to install a false flooring and wall, how to make at least a 3rd of the damn space look completely inaccessible without it being painfully obvious. It would take some work, but the end result was going to be mint.

"Glad we could work something out." He said as they walked, heading back on the same path they'd originally traveled to get here. "Have to admit, I'm kinda buzzin' about this right now. A lot of my work is lower end these days, which is... kinda boring. I mean good credit, don't get me wrong, but this is gonna be ace." Running a 'respectable' place on Jovan made him good money, skimming numbers from the slug races made him steady credit, plus all his side projects, the scams, the stuff Sin called in with, but he hadn't cut his teeth on any serious work for too long.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

The kid was excited, and it was making Ryloth all the more uneasy with the situation. Excited types tend to attract attention, or make mistakes.

With the Drone in tow floating behind him on it's repulsor engine, he was able to see a lot more than previously. The whole route back to the shop was mapped and recorded. Surrounding shops and points of interest marked. It often paid off to know exactly what was around you at all times. It made for quick escapes just as much as it did paths of attack. A quick sediment scan for material and depth can be the difference between knowing you can shoot some gonk through a wall or not, and he preferred the kind of firepower that can make that happen.

"You do what you gotta do in this business. So long as you aren't selling out and becoming some gonk wageslave or slimy corpo samurai, you'll be alright. The galaxy always needs more fixers. Good ones, at least. Not everyone can be Molly Black or the Emerald Lady, but it's still honest work."

[Damon Void]

Void just kept smiling, that same plastered on grin he'd had, no falter to it, no drop. Inside he was howling with laughter, Honest work? Honest work. HONEST work? Everyone views themselves as the hero, sure, but he would never classify what he does as honest, and while he didn't know his new friend as well as he'd like, he doubted he'd classify his that way either - but that was his cross to bare. Let him think what he wants to think. Void'll just go on being Void, as he always has.

"Keep on Keeping on, man. I respect that."

He finally said as they traced their way back to the shop, Void stepped up and unlocked the place, letting Ryloth in before turning back to lock the door behind them again. Discretion was probably the right call for the moment at least, he returned to his spot behind the counter and went to work punching in some numbers into a pad. Totals, expectations, costs. This whole business was going to be a definite money-maker, once the necessary changes to the storage room was made, but that was looking to be a lot of upfront cost, cost he'd basically taken onto his own back to make this happen. Dren, this was gonna tank his reserves. Whatever, he shouldn't dwell on the cost, he can just make that back later with a few new side ventures. Maybe hit Sin up for an advance on whatever job they'll need next. Sith weirdo always seems to have credits to blow.

"So how do you want to do this?" he finally asked, looking up. "We both know the arrangement now, and I doubt either of us want data records of this agreement so... handshake?" He extended one palm downward across the countertop. "And I'll get you what you need, and get out of your way."