Star Wars: Eclipse (TheCorsair and Xana)

Mustafar, 30 BBY​

“Who is it?” Zerrid An asked through the intercom, studying the hologram figure before him. The human scientist was tall and thin, with mousy features and thick rimmed glasses.

“Shadi, from the Twilight Companion Agency,” A buxom blonde announced, affably. She flashed a million credit smile, letting her fur coat open enough to reveal the tight leather dress she wore underneath. The door to his suite was opened immediate, Zerrid greeting the young woman with an intimate embrace. Helping her out of her coat, he couldn't help his eyes from wondering down her voluptuous figure.

“Can I get you something? A drink, or maybe something stronger? I have some Merakuya honey, or Giggledust or Inertia? You know I invented Inertia, so I have the best stuff.” he offered, leading her back towards the bedroom area of his suite. The blonde swallowed hard at the mention of Inertia, but did not falter.

“Oh, no thank you, Mr An. I never indulge before my task is complete,” she answered sweetly, in a faux innocent tone. He nodded absently at her response, his grey eyes darkened in distant recognition of the phrase. Shaking his head, he chucked lightly.

“Well now, far be it from me to distract you form ‘completing your task’” He half turned to look at her, catching the electric smile upon her plump pink lips. He opened the bedroom door and ushered her inside, closing and locking it behind them. Coming up behind her, his hands brushed her hair aside, and his breath was hot upon her bare neck. Hands traveled down her arms and he breathed in her scent, vanilla and citrus.

“Did they tell you what I was looking for? Before they sent you?” he whispered in her ear, dragging the strap of her dress down over her shoulder.

“Of course, sir. I understand you require a firm touch.” Shadi explained, untying the belt of her dress, let it open and puddle at her feet. All she wore now was the tiny black panties and thigh high boots. She could feel his appreciation for her nearly nude figure from behind, growing into the curve of her ass as he pressed his body against hers.

“Very nice,” he admired, “let’s get started right away.” She watched with feigned interest and excitement as he undressed as well, and lied upon the bed before her. Climbing over him, she got in to position, hands pushing down his shoulders as she interred him between her thighs. Her hands came over to his neck now, the slender digits tightening over his muscles.

“Is this good, sir?” She asked in a coquettish cadence, licking her lips as she looked down into his eyes.

“A little harder…please,” he demanded, pushing his hips into her core. She obeyed, her fair hands drawing red marks from his skin. After a few moments of strained sighs and moans from her client, Shadi spoke up again.

“Want to see something incredible?” she asked, giving him the first real smile of the evening. She didn’t wait for him to answer, given his difficulty in that, currently. “Look, no hands!” She giggled darkly, as an invisible force continued to strangle the man beneath her. His eyed widened in terror as he began to process what was happening to him.

“The best thing about this is that now I can do this,” Shadi explained, as she pulled the blonde wig off of her head, letting the wild tangle of red curls spill over her shoulders.

“Scarlet!” he managed to gasp out, as the realization washed over him. The name drew hot hatred from her, which she channeled into the force choke.

“That’s not my name. That’s the name you gave me, when you turned me into your drug addled assassin,” she spat at him, not yet seeking to end his life, just to keep him in pain. “My name is Kaydia Voss.” The voice was not the light, playful voice of a high end escort. Her voice was dark, like deep space.

“Tell me, Zerrid, how does it feel, dying at the hands of the assassin you created? Is the hubris more painful than your lungs bursting?” She purred, as the force grip tightened over his windpipe. He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, as his trachea was constricted and crushed and his eyes bulged out of his head.

Kaydia got up now, and dressed without a word, replacing the blonde wig. The bedside table was littered with bottles and vials, including a cloudy white one that was familiar to her.

You have completed your task, Scarlet. You have earned your reward.

The dead man said it, though not right now. Not this time, just dozens of times before now. She could feel her mouth salivating, almost on cue. She picked up the vial, swirling the liquid, even now, three years since she kicked it, she craved it. One little taste, to celebrate the revenge she was taking on the ones who did this to her. Hands shaking, she swallowed down the yearning, dropping bottle on the wood floor and smashing beneath her heeled boot.

She walked out to her speeder, sitting in the cockpit for a moment, breathing deep, letting the hatred and rage pass through her. She hit a button on the communications device, and waiting for the click that assured her it was ready.

“It’s done,” She said simply.

“Very good, Scarlet,” she flinched at the name, but she wasn’t transmitting video, so it didn’t matter, “We are ready to move into phase two. Your contact will be waiting for you at the rendezvous in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be there,” Kaydia hailed, pulling her speeder into gear.

"Sure you don't wanna join in?" Meryik - a Zeltron with skin so pake he was pink - asked, shuffling. "Cards are hot tonight..."

"Naw," Sharn laughed, throat-crest rippling with the sound. "You doy so,n't want old Quinn there in the game. He's a wizard, he is."

Quinn Hale laughed as well. He was a man who seemed to have been designed to bkend into a crowd. Handsome, but not distinctively so, with hair too dark to be called blonde and to light to be called brown, and eyes thatwere either blue ir green depending on the light. He wore a khaki jumpsuit, well- laundered but still marked with faded oil stanes, and scarred black boots, and a utility belt with a blaster and a vibro-knife and the hilt of a mass-produced lightsaber. "Hardly a wizard," he chuckled.

"God-damned luckiest merc I've ever met," Sharn replied, waving at the saber. "And there's that thing..."

"Whar, my saber?" Quinn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause I'm clearly a Jedi, slumming it on Mustafar with my AdascaTek L322 'Cutmaster' here." He patted the weapon. "Just like I was a Jedi last night, over at the Velvet Spire, and..."

"Why do you pack a saber?" Meriyk asked, dealing the cards. "It's a bit... eccentric, after all."

Quinn shrugged. "I'm good with a blade, ain't I. And it cuts through damn near everything." He smiled thinly. "And I never cared much for a fair fight." Just then, his wrist beeped, and he checked the display. "And I gotta go, boys. Have a drink on me." He tossed a fistfull of dactaries on the table as he rose.

"Business?" Meriyk asked, idly curious.

"Depends on how you define it," Quinn laughed, tossing down the last of his drink. "Remember that blonde from last night?"

Meriyk frowned, then nodded hesitantly. "Shade. No, Shadi. The gymnast with the rack?" He grinned as the memory returned. "Business then? Or pleasure?"

"Bit of both," Quinn laughed, heading for the door. "Bit of both."

In truth, it was very much going to be business. He was playing driver and bodyguard for 'Shadi' - Scarlet, if you wanted to be professional - both for a fat stack of credits and an introduction to the Black Sun, because freelancing was a dead-end career path for a merc. He didn't know what she was doing. He hadn't asked, although he had an idea - he knew Scarlet by reputation, after all. All he was worried about was meeting her at the rendevouz in ten minutes.

Whistling a merry little tune, he climbed into the seat of his speeder and kicked it into gear.

Kaydia wore deceit like a second skin. Deceit took the form of Shadi, the blonde escort, for a bit longer, as she made her way to the Velvet Spire, to meet her contact. The Velvet Spire was a high end brothel in the Capital City of Mustafar. It was also one of the holdings of the Black Sun, a legitimate business front for the syndicate. It was used for various cartel business, such as, in this instance, a place for Shadi to conduct her affairs. Management knew the deal, knew better than to ask questions, and provided the cartel’s assassin with a cover for her escort persona. She was free to come and go as she pleased.

Kaydia was surprised to find herself back here. It had been three years since she left the life, since she kicked drug habit that had kept her enslaved to their demands. She had tried to move on, but the reach of the Black Sun was far and wide, in the outer rim. Life would never be simple for her, so long as the Black Sun held power out here. What else could a former junkie assassin do but turn her skills on the people who had turned her into a killer?

So she made a contact within the Black Sun, someone who had infiltrated the organization form the inside. A Jedi. Just like she had been, before they took her. Before they twisted her into their tool. Before she succumbed to her own darkness. For now, she was cleaning house, taking out those who had betrayed the syndicate, but in time, she would have those that were responsible for what she had become.

To move forward, however, meant she needed some more muscle. She was a damn good assassin, but that didn’t mean much to a criminal organization as big as the government on a smaller planet. So she waited at the bar on the first floor of the Velvet Spire for her contact to arrive.

Quinn Hale, a for hire merc who was smart enough not to ask many questions, as long as he got paid. She watched him walk into the bar, the confident gait, with a tune on his lips and a lightsaber at his side. It still caught her breath, had her wondering if The Order was finally getting around to eliminating her, over a decade since they abandoned her to her fate. But it didn’t mean anything, way out here on the outer rim. Lightsabers were a thing of pride among the hitmen and bounty hunters out here, and every decent killer boasted at least one.

You have a Jedi among your kills, don’t you Scarlet?

She drank down the voice, the last vestiges of a conscious beaten down by years of contract killing and drug use. His eyes meet hers, as he made his way to her. “Right on time, Mr. Hale. Shall we adjourn to my room, or are you buying me a drink first?” She asked coyly as he got within ear range. He was rather handsome, in the dark lighting of the brothel bar. Handsome in an unremarkable way, in a way that nagged at the back on her head, as if she had seen him somewhere before.

Never the less, she was tired of wearing the Shadi mask, at least tonight, so she looped her arm around his and led him back to the elevator and her room on floor 37. Her room wasn’t much different from the others who worked, here, other than the lack of personal touch. Red silks, purple velvets, gold accents and dimly lit, it set the mood most clients desired. Sensual, intimate, and pricy. The fact that the women here could be bought, albeit at an extravagant price, was much of the charm.

The door was hardly locked behind them before Kaydia removed the mask. The wig was placed on a mannequin head, and the fur jacket on a nearby hook. She almost took out her contacts, but the lightsaber at his hip gnawed at her. So instead she slipped out of her boots and behind a changing screen to disrobe. She joined him once more in a black tank top and matching pants.

“Our first target is Vouru Kiash, mid-level Black Sun Officer. Meeting with a representative of a rival syndicate. It’s low key, they weren’t trying to attract attention with this one,” Kaydia explained, pulling up images and surveillance on her data pad. “’Shadi’ is providing entertainment for the meeting, your job is to back me up if something goes wrong.”

Security at the Velvet Spire didn't hassle him too much, this time. After all, he'd been here yesterday and hadn't torn the place up. So they welcomed him by name, and reminded him that this was a peaceful establishment while looking pointedly at his weapons. And he assured them that he was just there for a good time, and that he only started trouble if he was getting paid to start it, and then offered to check his weapons as a sign of his good faith. They let him keep them.

The downstairs three levels of the Spire could have easily passed for a high-end nightclub, because that's exactly what they were. Subdued lighting, tastefully expensive decor, and a layout that mixed dance floors and dining areas and private little alcoves for conversation. The staff were all gorgeous women and handsome men of various species, and all were available fir the right price. Quinn, with his jumpsuit and weapons, stuck out among the other patrons like a Gammorean.

"Right on time, Mr. Hale," 'Shadia' remarked as he joined her at the bar. "Shall we adjourn to my room, or are you buying me a drink first?"

The question earned him a dirty look from a Correlian in a dark suit, who'd clearly been planning on approaching her himself. Quinn didn't blame him. The leather dress she wore fitted her like a second skin, displaying a supple dancer's body, and it was all too easy to imagine that dress sliding down her curves. What a pity that it was an assassin's body, and that he was here on business. "A drink first, I think," he replied, glancing at the Correlian. "We've git all night, after all."

It ended up being two drinks, actually, for the sake of appearances. And then she clung to his arm with an easy grace as they made their way through the club and up the elevator, chatting and flirting until the door of her suite locked behind them. And then the persona vanished along with the pisture and wig, and a talll, confident woman witbh a mass of shockingly red hair vanished behind a orivacy screen. Scarlet emerged a few minutes later, casually dressed in a bkack tank top and slacks. She explained the next job in quick strokes, and he concentrated on the datapad images as she did.

"Discrete backup, or flashy?" he asked. "That is, if things go ploin shaped, do I just pull you out? Or do I spread a whole lot of pain and misery around in the process?" He grinned. "I'm good with either. I just want to make sure I'm prepared."

He took the datapad, ignoring the electric sensation as his fingers brushed hers. "Oh, and are we just hitting Kiash? Or are we taking care of this... ah..." He consulted the information on the screen. "Balish Kkynt?" With a few deft strokes, he copied the file to his pad and then slid it back. "Again, I don't care either way. Just want to make sure."

Kaydia narrowed eyes at him as he asked about the plan. At least he was asking now, and not acting tomorrow. “Discrete,” She said simply, trying to hide an annoyed look on her face. The grin on his face washed away much of it. He was just good-looking enough to get away with it. She let out a quick chortle. “I do have a reputation to uphold, even if I am not working alone this time.” She gave him a sly smile, finding she rather enjoyable, flirting with a man she didn’t intend on killing. At least, not yet.

"Oh, and are we just hitting Kiash? Or are we taking care of this... ah..." He consulted the information on the screen. "Balish Klynt?"

“We are hitting all of them. Kiash, Klynt, and the bodyguard a piece they will probably have there,” She explained, transitioning back into the professional. “Since Xomit Grunseit took command of the Black Sun, all the other syndicates have been pushing into their territory. Trying to strike at perceived weakness. A swift, decisive hit is the message they want to send other cartels and the disloyalty within their own ranks.” Kaydia explained, leaning back on her elbows.

It was aggravating how easy it was to slip back into the role of enforcer for the cartel, the cartel she was trying to take down. It felt like two steps back for one step forward. Have patience, she tried to tell herself, even as she did their dirty work for them. It spoiled the victory that killing Zerrid An should have been for her.

“Any further questions?”

---

Linora Sunfell stood in the suite of the now deceased Zerrid An, examining the scene of the crime.

“What does it look like happened?” Came a gruff voice form the communicator. Linora examined the body causally, already pretty confident of what she would find.

“Looks like he succumbed to his favorite past time. Autoerotic asphysixation with a side of Inertia overdose,” she reported coolly, as if her employer shouldn’t be surprised to hear such a thing.

“So, an accident?” the voice queried.

“Possibly, let me just check his data…” Linora spoke into her communicator, as she glanced through the files on his data pad. “So, that vacation he took last month? Turns out he was on Nar Shaddaa.”

“The Hutts were trying to poach my scientist?” Xomit Grunseit growled in response.

“Didn’t have to try hard…” she murmured. “He sent them a shipment of his latest batch of Inertia.”

“That rat!” the falleen exploded into his communication device.

“It’s fine, sir. He only sent them a shipment, not his recipe. Which we still have.” Linora explained, confidently. “Once the Hutts get their population addicted to Inertia, they will have to come to us for more supply.”

“That is…solid reasoning, Sunfell. You may have a Vigo position in your future. If such a thing ever opens up.”

Linora bent over at the side table, examining the broken vial on the floor. She smiled to herself as the sickly sweet scent filled her nostril. “Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised if it did.”

"Discrete, but with no witnesses. Got it." He pursed his lips at her final question. "And yeah, I do. Since I'm discrete backup, do you want me sitting out in the speeder? Or do I need to get a nice suit and tag along?" He gave a small shrug, and rummaged around in his belt pouches. "Again, either one's fine. But you'll want this, if I'm staying outside." With that, he tossed her a small package. Opened, it revealed two small lozenges.

"Those are passive transmitters," he explained. "Designed to be swallowed - souvenirs of a discrete job I took a while back. Top secret Republic stuff, very hush hush. Keyword and voiceprint coded, so they won't broadcast unless you trigger them. And then it's a compressed burst on a randomized cycle - once very three to ten seconds." He leaned back, watching her reaction. "They digest or pass through, so I wouldn't swallow one until you're getting ready tomorrow." Another moment's pause as he watched her face - not a difficult thing, really. She was easy to watch.

"Also," he added with a wink, "plenty of time to have it checked for poison. You don't know me from Chancellor Valorum, after all. I'm not gunning for you, but I'd be disappointed if you didn't take the precaution." With that, he turned his attention back to the copied files. "In the mean time, I'll see about committing the blueprints here to memory. And scoping out the site. Discretely. Figure out the best approaches, things like that. I really don't like surprises, unless I'm the one doing the surprising."

He tucked the datapad away. "But that'll have to wait. I'm supposed to have retained your services for a couple of hours. It'll do bad things to my reputation if I'm out of here in fifteen minutes. You got anything else you want to go over? You're the one on the sharp end, after all."

“Well, I don’t usually travel with a bodyguard, so it’s going to look suspicious if you came up with me,” Kaydia reasoned. She took the package, and listened to his explanation of how they worked, nodding in mild endorsement. “Sounds good. And yes, I will have these checked for poison or drugs or things I am allegric to. Hell, you might kill me on accident, without even meaning to. And have the Black Sun come down on your ass.” She Smirked as he continued, approving of his plan of action.

“Stay awhile. My, well, Shadi’s reputation on the line too, if she can’t keep her clients occupied and enthralled for more than 15 minutes,” Kaydia reasoned, standing up to stretch now. She put the package he gave her down on with on the vanity, mixed among the various makeup and perfumes.

“I am pretty set on my end of things. It not anything I haven’t done before…” She started, looking through her wardrobe and picking out potential outfits for tomorrow. “There’s, uh, nothing stopping us from fucking, at least nothing I know of. It would pass the time.” She said turning now with a wink. She was interested in how that went over with him, before laughing. “You could be one of the lucky few I fuck and don’t kill after or during.”

She picked a strappy black dress with high slits and a low neckline. Holding up against her body she turned towards him. “What do you think? Would this make you stupid enough to lower your guard?” She asked watching his eyes, checking if he recovered from her earlier offer.

“Why don’t you tell me about that lightsaber. Every bounty I come across with one has an epic story to tell about how he wrenched it form his opponents hands.”

"I could fuck and not get murdered?" Quinn laughed. "What a generous offer!" It was tempting, though. Even in prosaic slacks and tank top, she was stunning. And in that leather dress she'd wirn in the bar..? She was an erotic dream come to life. And then she picked up a dress - could you call that black assemblage of straps and spaces by that word? - and held it up to her body.

"What do you think?" she asked, watching him. "Would this make you stupid enough to lower your guard?"

He licked his lips, visualizing her in that outfit. And then out of it. "I think it would," he said returning her frank gaze. "I can feel the thought of it draining the blood from my brain."

And then she asked about the lightsaber, drawing a chuckle from him. "An epic tale?" He shook his head, laughing. "Not really, and I'm convinced that the majority of the people who do have one are lying their balls off."

Watching her reaction carefully, he drew the saber and turned the gunmetal hilt in his hands. "See, not all lightsabers are Jedi weapons. This one, for instance, was manufactured on an AdascaTek production line in the Arkania system. They manufacture a few thousand a year, catering to a select market." He flipped the hilt in the air and caught it. "Wanba-be's, mostly. And a few people like me, swordsmen who don't want the bulk of a vibroblade and who see the practical utility of a tool that cuts through most anything."

Another grin. "So my epic story? I headed over to Arkania IV and dropped a couple of grand in a factory. Pricy, but it doesn't come with the recurring costs of killing a Jedi and waving one of their swords around." He clipped it back to his belt. "I don't mind that kind of heat from business, mind. But not because I'm trying to save some money."

He looked around the room. "How about you? Is prostitution just a cover, or a second line of work?"

"An epic tale?" He shook his head, laughing. "Not really, and I'm convinced that the majority of the people who do have one are lying their balls off."

“Oh, I am sure too. Doesn’t make their fantastic accounts any less entertaining,” Kaydia clarified, hanging the straps passing for a dress on the inside of the wardrobe, “So you have about ten years’ worth of bragging and tall tales to compete with. I’ve heard all nature of them, from men and women trying to get between my sheets and legs.”

She watched him handle the weapon, looking for some familiar signs in his mannerisms. But other than a casual familiarity with the weapon, there were no telltale signs he was more than he let on. And he explained with nonchalant charm how he simply purchased the lightsaber for a few thousand credits.

“Oh, my dear Quinn,” Kaydia started, meeting his gaze with one of her own. “the truth? Never go with the truth!” She took up a firing stance now, holding her hands in a mock gun formation. “No, no, you were tracking a daring Jedi.” She pantomimed a run motion, hiding behind the chair in a dramatic fashion. “They had you pinned, every shot you took, reflected back.” She made a few firing motions, followed by exaggerated dodging motions. “So you had to outsmart them. You managed to get behind them and…” She flicked her wrist with flair, making the blaster sound with her mouth. She brought the finger up to her lips, smoldering yes boring into his, as she blew pretend smoke form her pretend gun.

“Besides, it’s not like there is much in the way of Jedi presence, all the way out here,” She said softly, coming dangerously close to something approximating sincerity. She pushed back against the buried emotions and gave her guest a pointed look. “Now, for telling the truth? I am going to have to rescind that offer of sex. Amateur move there, my friend, amateur move.”

He looked around the room. "How about you? Is prostitution just a cover, or a second line of work?"

“What, trying to figure out if you can afford me?” She teased, dropping to the bed now. “It a rather good cover. Maybe if I ever retire from this…” she lied knowing that retiring was not an option for her. Not even if she dropped every last Black Sun. But she didn’t want to dwell on that now. It was a depressing thought, while she was sober enough to process it.

“Hungry? I can have some food sent up,” She offered, pulling out the room service menu. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to look appropriately disheveled when I open the door.” She placed an order of Kommerken steak with ootoowergs, for both of them.

“So, how has Mustafar been treating you? Like the hive of scum and villany it’s known to be?” She ribbed, stretching out over the bed.

"Amateur move?" Quinn protested, miming a hurt expression. "You've been associating with wanna-bes for far, far too long. Honesty is always the best policy, professionally and personally." He tried to hold the hurt expression as he added. "At least, that's what my last girlfriend liked to say. Until I tild her about how I wanted a threesome with this hot Chikladorian I'd been seeing on the side..." The hurt expression wavered as a cheeky grin spread across his face. "Turns out she didn't care for honesty."

Then he chuckled. "I'll let you decide just how much honesty there was, there." He glanced around the room. "How about you? Is prostitutionjust a cover, or a second line of work?"

"What, trying to figure out if you can afford me?" she countered, dropping onto the large bed.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "How honest should I be, right niw?"

"It is a rather good cover," she declared, looking around as well. "Maybe if I ever retire from this..."

"Not bloody likely," Quinn said, flatly. "People like us, we don't retire. Even if we try..." He patted the blaster on his hip. "This life never lets us go. I'!ll probably die from a blaster bolt in the back. Or maybe someone like you will kill me, if I ever get successful enough."

The melancholy thought hung in the air, and he was grateful for the change of subject when she suggested food. Quite substantial food, from the order she placed. But then, the Spire had the same sort of reputation to maintain. When the order was placed she stretched like a cat - something that made him regret the playful withdrawl of her teasing offer to fuck - and laid back on the bed. "So, how has Mustafar been treating you? Like the hive of scum and villany it's known to be?"

"Nah," he chuckled. "It's not as bad as all that. Most of the scum indulge in professional villany, so there's no violence without reason. Been a vacation, really." He gestured skyward. I've done a lot of work in the Core, and even on Coruscant." A flicker of a smile. "Mustafar - even Nar Shadda and Nal Hutta - have nothing on the noble houses or merchant princes for scum or villany."

He peered at her, again appreciating the form on the bed. "Seems to have done well by you."

It was easy to be around him. The playful banter, the longing looks, the exchanged smiles. If it were a first date, it would be an unqualified success. Even the awkward silences never seemed to last long.

But it wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a casual meeting between people seeking to ease the loneliness afflicting them. It was a meeting of professionals, to discuss the men they intended to kill tomorrow, under the guise of a prostitute and john. Maybe in a different life they could have been something more, something beyond starships passing between the same stars.

Coruscant. Damn, had long had it been? Ten, eleven years? She was a different person then, with a different life ahead of her. She would have never met someone like him when she was there. Not like this, while they joked about fucking and killing.

"Seems to have done well by you." Mustafar, he meant. She swallowed down the scoff she wanted to release. Real fucking well for me. Junkie, whore, killer. My master would be so proud…

Kaydia managed a weak shrug. “Alright I guess. Better than being a slave, or whatever.” She muttered, recognizing the irony in her statement. She wanted to will herself to say something witty and clever, to fall back into flirting with him, but the burden of her life on Mustafar was weighing down on her now.

Fortunately, there was a knock at the door, and a hologram of a waiter with two trays on a platter came up. She approached the door, slipping back into the wig and pulling her fur jacket over her, as if she had come naked from the bed to the door. She took the plates, with a smile and a wink, and brought them back over to him, setting it down on the table.

“I think I have a bottle of Alderaan wine, unless you want something stronger,” she advised pulling out a bucket of ice and fetching the preferred vintage. “Aged 5 years, so a bit newer. I’ll pull out the ten year vintage when we are successful, tomorrow.” She poured a couple glasses and took a seat, meeting his eyes. She was determined to figure out exactly if they were blue or green, even if it took all meal. Eating a fine meal, drinking wine, gazing at one another in the dimness of the room.

It was how funny how easily this meeting between slipped back towards a date.

"Nah, wine's fine," Quinn said, sipping his drink. "I don't have the most refined of palates, but this isn't bad." He took another sip. "Left to my own devices, I'm more of a beer man. With an occasional whiskey." And Merakuya, his mind filled in, before he could clamp down on the rogue thought.

He cut a bite of steak, speared an ootowerg, and tucked it into his mouth. "Now steak? Very much a steak man. And the chef here has done an excellent job." For a few minutes he tucked into his meal, eating with the methodical care of a man who was determined to enjoy his food. Occasionally he would glance up, and each time he made a shocking discovery. The dim light softened the hard, professional expression Scarlet wore. She was beautiful, of course. But, she was also kind of cute.

He chuckled at that thought. Cute. The reknowned assassin, Scarlet. Cute. What, was he sixteen again?

"All right, I'm gonna be nosy." Quinn declared. He gestured absently around the room with his fork. "This room's a cypher. As much a professional mask as 'Shadi' or even 'Scarlet'. Makes sense, I guess. But... what do you do for fun? Fucking and killing can't be your whole life."

“You’d be surprised,” she said, as he asked about hobbies, and what she did with herself, most of the time. “I don’t usually have a handsome man to do my leg work.” She winced slightly at the admission of finding him attractive, but what was the point? It was fact than opinion at this point, and surely he was aware of it. Men like him knew that they were handsome.

“Usually I have to stalk my target, learn their schedule and routine, come up with plan, scout out the place where I plan to kill them…It’s rather time consuming, in reality. And when I am not doing all that? Well, keeping my skills fresh and current is rather demanding as well.” She took a couple large bites, chewing slowly giving herself time to find a better answer to give him. What else did she do? Stewing in my anger, getting loaded off drugs and planning elaborate revenge plots. That sounded…depressing. But even before she was pulled into this life, there wasn’t much time for hobbies. Padawans were kept awful busy between missions, as it were. Training with the force, with their lightsabers, the endless meditating…

“I keep up appearances. I party with high rollers, I shop and blow thousands on shoes and clothes and jewelry. I keep up with the gossip and drama of the famous and infamous. It, uh, sounds rather vapid, when you say it aloud like that, doesn’t it?” She said with a sigh. She pushed her empty plate aside, filling her glass with more wine. Looking over at the clock, she drained her glass in a single long swallow.

“Your time is about up. Unless you wanted to pay for another hour,” She purred running fingers over his hand. But she knew he wouldn’t. There were things to do, before the job tomorrow, and they were both too professional to let base urges and ridiculous chemistry get in the way of that. Besides, they would be spending lots of time together, in the next few days.

Quinn finished up the last of his steak. "It does sound vapid," he agreed. "But, hell, that's what down time is for. A couple of drinks, a little gambling, some work translating the Mrynnryoth Yal'Vedar from archaic Yarloti R'ylothic..." Grinning, he made a show of covering his mouth and looking embarrassed. "Oops. There I go again, being honest. Does that mean the offer of dinner is now withdrawn as well?"

Scarlet's response was to down another glass of wine, then glance at the clock. “Your time is about up. Unless you wanted to pay for another hour,” she purred, her slender fingers caressing her hand. There was that tingling again, the sensations crawling up his nerves to hum pleasantly in his brain and pool warmly in his abdomen.

"Oh, it's not a question of whether I want to pay," he answered, winking. "But I've glanced at your rates, and I'm frankly surprised anyone believes I can afford them." Regretfully, he pushed himself back from the table and rose. "So, should I muss up my hair? Maybe try to walk a little funny? After all, you've a reputation to maintain."

---

Ignoring the glances he received as he emerged from the elevator, Quinn crossed the dance floor and headed for the door. Outside, he waited patiently while the valet brought him his speeder, and then tipped the man generously as a way of apologizing for making him drive the beat-up old junker he owned. The valet - human, because the Velvet Spire prided itself on having all of its staff available - nodded and smiled, and Quinn slipped into the driver's seat. It groaned a little, the worn synthleather of the seats creaking and cracking, and he shoved an empty box of takeout noodles into the cluttered well of the passenger's seat. He'd probably need to clean that out before tomorrow night, just in case. No need to risk blowing a job on a cluttered vehicle. The speeder's engine purred to life without hesitation. Like so many of his possessions, he let it present a beaten and battered mask while ensuring that it functioned perfectly.

"So," he murmured aloud as he moved the speeder into traffic. "The infamous Scarlet is Force-sensitive? This puts a whole new intriguing spin on matters."

There was a soft sigh as he left, once he was out of the room. She should have been happy to discard the mask, but he was the first person in many years that she actually felt like herself around. Felt comfortable being herself, whoever that was, after the years of wearing masks. Shadi, the escort. Marthi, the caterer. Lorsha, the chauffer. Scarlet, the assassin. Would she ever really be Kaydia, again?

She took out her contacts now, examining her eyes. A faint glow, fading away after her forceful display earlier. Spending time with Quinn calmed her more than she would have expected. Maybe she should be paying him, for his time. Or maybe she should have fucked him, instead of just teasing the offer. He would probably be out of her life again, shortly enough. She decided not to let the opportunity pass her by, again. He was a nice distraction from the urges of addiction, and the hate that poured out of every bone in her body.

---

She sat in from of the vanity combing out the Shadi wig. Already dressed in the strappy dress, she spent a few more moments as Kaydia before putting on the mask. Quinn was supposed to pick her up within twenty minutes, and he had demonstrated a professional punctuality in their first two meetings, so she had no reason to suspect he would be late today. It was plenty of time to put on makeup and her wig.

She opted for a dramatic look. Bright red lips, dark intense cat eye liner, smoky eye shadow and big fake lashes. Just the kind of dolled up high end escort who would be hired to entertain a small meeting between potential business partners. The blonde wig was the last piece to complete the masquerade. She paired the provocative dress with a long leather trench coat, cinched at the waist, just barely exposing her cleavage, if one were looking hard enough. Lastly she picked up the lozenges, having had them thoroughly checked for toxins. The plan was to take them right before going into the meeting.

All that was left was to wait for Quinn to arrive.

The next 24 hours were busy.

Quinn began with a drive-through of the region surrounding the meet, then parked his speeder and walked around. The small but elaborate scanning equipment in the glasses he wore built up a three-dimensional map of the area, and walking let him get a feel for the streets and the layout. Then it was back to Voroth's to negotiate the rental of a better class of speeder from Meriyk. He liked his own transport, but it was utterly out of place where he was going tomorrow.

Then it was back to his ship to plan some escape routes. He and Scarlet were both professionals, so he assumed things would go well. But it always paid to plan for the worst - that way, when it happened, you could cope. Satisfied, he crawled into his bunk and got some sleep. Sleep was unexpectedly fitful, filled with dreams of Scarlet. Some erotically charged, but others tinged with memory. He awoke feeling frustrated and horny, and with the strongest sensation that he knew her from somewhere.

He would have to consider that later, though. For now, Quinn Hale needed to disappear. So he pushed himself into the tiny fresher and let the ultrasonics clean the day's dirt and grime away. Then he spent a profitable few hours altering his appearance. A hair rinse, darkening him several shades towards brown. Contacts that turned his eyes grey. Nostril and cheek pads, subtly changing the apparent structure of his face. Inserts in a pair of black dress shoes, changing his walk and posture slightly. To all of that he added his best suit, cut loose so he could conceal a number of interesting tools and weapons of questionable legality.

Quinn Hale's career had been long and varied. "Merc" barely scratched the surface of his resume.

At the appointed hour he looked up in front of the Velvet Spire in a sleek black stretch speeder. Stepping from the driver's compartment, he looked every inch the sort of chauffeur/bodyguard that the Black Sun might employ. He strode towards the doorman. "Quipan Viss," he declared, using one of the names he'd given Scarlet. "I'm supposed to take Shadi to a party for my employers."

All of which was true. From a certain point of view.

“A Quipan Viss is here for you.” Came the voice over the intercom.

“I’ll be right down,” was her reply, replacing the contacts. Shadi had blue eyes, to go with her blonde hair. Shadi made her way downstairs and outside, nodding approvingly at the speeder he brought.

“Shall we?’ She asked, making her way to the passenger compartment of the speeder. He wasn’t quite the casually handsome man she had shared dinner and banter with the night before. Underneath it all, he still was, but it was different enough that most people wouldn’t pick up on it, if they didn’t know. She might not have picked up it, if she didn’t know. If she didn’t have a reason to pay attention. Suddenly the gnawing feeling that they had met before came back. Had she seen him in one of his disguises? How long had he been on Mustafar? If was possible they had crossed paths before.

It probably didn’t mean anything. They ran in similar lines of business, after all. As long as he wasn’t gunning for her…She took a moment, accessing those abilities that she tried to keep hidden, especially around the kind of men who liked to carry light sabers on their person. At the moment, knowing if he intended to hurt her seemed more important than concealing her ability to manipulate the force. Besides, Jedi didn’t come all the way to the outer rim with no back up to do odd jobs for Cartels. That was just absurd.

There was a cold detachment about him, as she probed for emotions. A professional, in all ways, including in his mind. She closed the mental link and relaxed back into the leather, getting herself into that same professional detachment disposition, overlaid with the playful personality of a working girl.

Layers upon layer upon layers.

The meeting took place at a safe house, where these kinds of clandestine meetings always took place. Bribing bureaucrats, intimidating law enforcement, colluding with politicians, and apparently making deals with rival cartels to divert shipments their way. At the right price. That was Shadi’s job, to make one side so stupid the other got the better end of the arrangement. People, men in particular, were stupid when it came to sex, which is why she wore the Shadi mask most often. She swallowed the transmitter lozenge.

Outside the house, a Trandoshan and Gamorrean stood watch, leering her as she approached. The Gamorrean was probably here for Balish Klynt, the representative of the Hutt cartel. Which meant the Trandoshan was guarding Vouru Kaish. She approached him now, stepping into Shadi’s skin.

“I do believe your boss is expecting me,” She announced in a sultry timbre, meeting his eyes. Trying to at least, as his eyes wandered down her figure and drank in her cleavage. She didn’t to look at the Gamorrean to know he was also gawking.

“I imagine he is,” the bodyguard said, when he finally meet her eyes again. The was a look of lust and jealousy in his eyes, yet also filled with the knowledge that she could be bought. Even by a man like him, if this deal went through. Of course everyone could be bought, if one possessed the right currency.

With a nod she was let in, and in the living quarters, she came face to face with a Quarren, Balish Klynt, while Vouru Kiash, the Falleen, sat with his back to her.

“You hired some entertainment?” Balish asked, watching her take off her coat to reveal the rather revealing outfit she had chosen to wear.

“Yeah, to celebrate our deal!” Vouru declared, holding up his half full glass.

“We haven’t come to a deal yet,” the Quarren reminded him, not yet done inspecting Shadi.

“Well, we should get back to it then,” The Falleen suggesting, draining his glass. “Or we could take a break from talking and enjoy the lovely company of…” He looked at her know and for a brief moment his brow furrowed before it relaxed, and he grinned at her "What is your name, hun?”

“Shadi,” She said with a smirk, giggling as the Falleen pulled her into his lap. Despite his actions, she could sense fear and anger in him now, at the sight of her, and the mention of his name. This wasn’t good. “Could I get a drink? Maybe a Whiskey?” She said, activating the communication pill she already swallowed, alerting Quinn as to the trouble she was anticipating.

Quinn settled back into the soft leather of the rental speeder as he watched Scarlet walk towards the building. Any other time he'd have been content to simply watch her move, as there was a sensual grace in the sway of her hips and the movement of her legs. But this was business now, and he maintained a professional detachment as she chatted with the door guards and then passed within.

A Trandoshan and a Gammorean, he noted. The kind of muscle you hired if you wanted to look like you had hired muscle. Big and intimidating. He figured he could kill them both, if he had to. But, he reflected as he started the speeder up, it would be better if he didn't have to. Quiet, clean jobs were much nicer jobs.

The speeder slid away silently. No need to alert the thugs at the door that he was more than the chauffeur. He parked a half kilometer away, watching the front entrance through the feed from the microdot camera he'd left the previous evening. The resolution was grainy, and the images black and white, but they would serve.

Cracking open a bottl, Quinn poured himself a cup of tea. This was going to be a long night.

After a bit, his earpiece crackled to life. Scarlett's voice came through, along with the voices of the others in the room. All were flat and mildly distorted, a side effect of the compression and decompression, but something about the tones made him set his mug aside and listen more intently.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

“Now, Shadi, I should tell you, I am in mourning today,” Vouru explained, hand on her chin to keep her looking into his eyes.

“Oh?” She asked in feigned interest. Probably some ploy to get special attention.

“Yeah, my good friend died last night. Zerrid An. Brilliant scientist. And interestingly enough, according to the hologram security I recovered from his place shows he had one visitor last night, just before he died. You.” The Falleen explained, as she felt the cool steel barrel of his blaster pistol press against her throat. She did not show the fear that was pooling in the pit of her stomach. “So, I am guessing that I finally get to meet the Cartel’s assassin, Scarlet. I really wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“Now, you are going to tell me who sent you to kill me. And Then…maybe we each take a turn with you. Let you prove that you are worth too much to get dumped in a ditch.” The blaster pressed against her chin as he whispered in her ear, other hand still wrapped around her waist.

“Linora Sunfell,” She said without hesitation. It was life or death now, and if that name escaped this room it was death for her for sure. Assuming she escaped at all. Still, though, there was a chance. Sex did make men stupid.

“That human bitch?” he asked thoughtfully, before nodding as the idea grew on him. “I didn’t think you’d give the name up so easily.” She could feel his grubby fingers groping at her breast.

“I am loyal to my credit account alone. And I can’t get paid if I am dead,” She explained simply, holding the fear and disgust just below the surface. The Falleen laughed.

“No, no you can’t.” He said, using the pistol to move the straps of her dress, exposing her to him. “So why don’t you give up being an assassin, and take up whoring yourself out? I bet you are better on you back…”

“You have no idea,” She whispered back at him, running a finger down his face. “They send me because I am the best death imaginable.” Despite his grasp and the gun she started standing, pulling him towards what the bedroom. “Why don’t I show you? Or does your friend get to go first?”

Vouru looked over at Balish and snickered, “Fuck that, I paid for you.” He kept the gun trained on her at he rose, a lascivious grin growing on his face. She returned his smile with one of her one, as she spotted the sharp corner of the stone stairs. Channeling all of her fear and anger into that point, she pushed Vouru, the force of her force attack sending him flying away at high velocity. His head connected with the stone corner in a sickening crunch, green blood pooling under his body. Luckily for him, the death was instantaneous.

She kicked the pistol out of the Quarren’s hands as he fumbled to aim it. Reaching out into the force, she visualize his heart, pounding within his chest. Her finger tightened into a fist as she saw it in her mind, feeling it throb with increasing intensity. The powerful muscles fighting desperately against her grasp, sending adrenaline throughout his system in rapid motion. The hatred and fear she felt soon overcame his resistance, as the organ popped from the pressure, leaving Balish to seize on the ground painfully for the last minute of his life. She sprinted over to the gun and hid behind the door frame, anticipating the arrival of the two bodyguards any moment now.

Fuck.

The little bursts of compressed and uncompressed audio made it abundantly clear that things had gone utterly ploin-shaped inside. He couldn't see what was going on, of course, but it was clear that Scarlet's identity had been revealed. "So, I am guessing that I finally get to meet the Cartel’s assassin, Scarlet." That was a dead giveaway.

He fired up the speeder, then froze for a heartbeat at another exchange. "Linora Sunfell." He'd been looking for her for years. He'd known she was involved. But... hearing that name, after all this time? It still struck him hard. Unbidden memories of the young woman he'd known - he'd thought he'd known - flooded back, reminding him of better days. When he'd been young, too, and they'd been in love.

Before the bitch betrayed everything they'd believed in. Before she'd framed him for murder.

He stuffed the emotions away. "There is no emotion," he growled to himself, hurtling ithe speeder forward and trying to believe the words, "there is peace." Time enough for recriminations and memories later. For now, Scarlet needed backup.

The speeder tore through the dark streets, slewing to a halt before the gates. Quinn tumbled out the driver's door and moved, scrambling to the top of the speeder and vaulting the gate in a smooth leap that should have been impossible without a running start. His blaster - a heavy Mandalorian thing - seemed to materialize in his hand, and he blasted the Trandoshan down as he turned to see what had happened. The Gammorean dodged left, then left again, steadily advancing as he kept ahead of Quinn's relentless blaster fire. Holes gouged in the walls as his shots impacted moments too late. The big creature came in at him, axe flashing.

Quinn so n, pivotal ting with the blow. As a result, although his blaster spun away from his grip, he as still in a single piece. He completed the spin with balletic grace, a snake-hiss and a wan white light accompanying him as he completed the turn. The Gammorean barely had time to squeal in agony as the pale blade sheared through him, slashing upwards from left hip to right shoulder.

Quinn was running for the door as the bisected Gammorean hit the ground. Time enough to find his blaster later.

Kaydia heard the blasters going off outside. Quinn had her back. Or he was already dead. That thought brought rage and guilt, emotions she was having trouble pushing down.

There is no emotion, Kaydia, only peace. Master Ki-Adi words came through, trying to soothe her, trying to get her to focus. Feel through the force. How many heartbeats are out there?


She tried to calm herself, to sense the other beings out there. The only heartbeat she was aware of was the one beating out of her own chest. It was too late for Jedi teaching now. Too late for her, as the two dead bodies in the other room spoke for. As dozens of dead bodies before these had set in stone her fall from the light side. The path she had started upon when she killed Master Ki-Adi.

The door burst open and she stiffened for a moment, fingers turning white over the handle of her gun. A deep breath later she peered out, pistol before her, ready to take a shot at a potential hostile. But it was Quinn, light saber in hand. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, as she fixed the top of her dress and came out from behind the door frame.

“You are well worth whatever I am paying you,” She praised, reaching for her trenchcoat. “Let’s get out of here. Someone from Black Sun will be by to clean up the mess.”

Quinn's lightsaber tore through the door, sending it crashing to the ground in four pieces. Discrete? No, not really. But it would muddy the issue, put attention on the Jedi instead of a random mercenary. But then he came face to face with the muzzle of a blaster, and Scarlet's cold eyes fixed on him. For a moment he stood there, watching her come to the conclusion that he wasn't a threat. She sighed in relief, and he shut off his weapon as she lowered hers.

“You are well worth whatever I am paying you,” She praised, reaching for her trenchcoat.

"I'm worth a lot more than that," he countered, making the saber disappear inside his suit coat. "But I'll take the compliment anway."

“Let’s get out of here. Someone from Black Sun will be by to clean up the mess.”

"Mess?" he asked, a smile curving his lips. "I see no mess. I'm pretty sure that the both of us were several kilometers from here, having a quiet dinner in a discrete restaurant I know." The grin got a little broader. "A discrete restaurant operated by a friend of mine. How could we have possibly seen a mess here, when we were there?"

As they exited the building, he glanced around. Stepping into the shadows of the corner for a moment, he returned with the pistol he'd been forced to drop earlier. "Of course,' he added, tucking it away and opening the gate, "not leaving evidence behind lends credence to our story. And are you hungry? I did actually make the reservations, so we may as well shore up our alibi by being seen there."

The playful banter was surprising. And welcome. Her heart still pounded from how close she had come to being the one dead on the floor, but seeing him alive and safe, and not even mad that she mussed up the job? She was feeling much better already, the darkness encroaching upon her already fading away. She returned his smile. Genuinely, to her own surprise.

That he had prepared an alibi for them was also surprising. She hadn’t asked him to do that, and wouldn’t have bothered herself. Black Sun had all the law enforcement in it’s pocket. And the one who couldn’t be bought? Well, she had seen to them personal, when she was the cartel’s loyal killer. She was caught in the guilt, for a moment, as Quinn picked up his pistol from the bushes.

“I would love that,” she said warmly, following him back to the speeder. He was charming, and it would be nice to lose a few hours in his eyes and company. While she swallowed down the craving for Inertia that bounced through her brain. It was a Pavlovian response. She completed her kill, she earned her reward. And the numbing effects of Inertia would drown the rage and fear and disgust that had powered her attacked, and continued to course through her veins. But, perhaps she could find something else to crave. Or someone, as she eyed her handsome companion.

She took a seat in the back of the speeder, just as she had arrived here. She fixed her make up while back there, occupying her hands to distract her from errant thoughts. Once they were about half to the restaurant, she turned on her communicator.

“It’s done. Kiash, Klynt, their bodyguards, all dead.” She reported softy. She wasn’t exactly trying hide what she was doing from Quinn, but she wasn’t doing it openly either. He was there, it’s not like any of this was news to him.

“Alright, the credits will be deposited into your account within the hour. How did it go?” The voice was purposely distorted, but Kaydia knew who it was.

“Not great, but they are all dead. Did you know Kiash had access to Zerrid An’s security holograms?”

“I had my suspicions.”

“And you didn’t warn me?” Kaydia’s voice rose, becoming a whispered shout.

“Hey, you want to hit bigger targets, you need to prove you can handle yourself even when shit hits the intake valve. Which you have, so I’ll have another job for you tomorrow.”

“Another job? This is quick, even for me.” Kaydia countered

“And it will be worth it. You’re hitting a Vigo. Besides, you’ll need to do all the leg work on this one. I can’t know of anything, until it happens.”

“Fine, send me the details for the meeting,” Kaydia said before cutting off the communication. It seemed she and Quinn had arrived at their reservation.

The restaurant was a small sort of place, lacking the amenities that would have possibly earned it a 5-star rating but still possessing a quiet charm. The lighting was subdued as was the music, and the serving droids were grey and dark blue with a matte finish. The proprietor was a stocky Snivian, and he met them at the door. "Quinn, my boy!" he grunted, offering a blunt-fingered hand. "Good to see you. I've been so glad you were coming that a few minutes made it seem like you were an hour late."

Quinn, who had shed his disguise as he'd driven, shook the Snivian's hand. "Just a few minutes, though. Sorry to keep you waiting, Malri. Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce my associate, Shadi."

Malri took hire hand and bowed his head over it. For on a distance he could have been kissing it, but the wet snuffling sound he made left no doubt that he was smelling her. "A pleasure. A genuine pleasure. Please, follow me."

He led them to a small corner table, positioned so that two occupants could keep their backs to the wall discretely. Quinn dr w a chair for Scarlet, then joined her at the table. "Here you are," Malri said, handing each of them a plasprint menu. "Joaca will be your waiter." He glanced at Scarlet. "Would you like to start with some wine? We have an..."

"I don't really hav a palate for the stuff, Malri," Quinn commented.

Despite being barely a meter tall, Malri managed to look down his snout at the mercenary. "That's why I didn't ask you," he said, pointedly. "I asked your lovely associate." He looked back at Scarlet. "Ignore him. He is a barbarian, and you are clearly slumming by being in his company. May I recommend the Guerre Stellari '77? It is a bold rose wine, comparing favorably to the best of the Fortresse Cachee roses bottled by the famous Bright Black Swamp vintners of Riben II."

“That sounds lovely, I think I will take a glass,” Shadi said in approval, meeting his gaze. Truthfully she wanted something harder, but that was Kaydia, and she wasn’t Kaydia right now. A high class call girl doesn’t down hard liquor on a date with a client, she sips her wine properly.

It was almost funny. When she was a padawan she loathed all the rules the Jedi Order and had lain down for her to follow, and yet even as far removed as she was from the Order now, she still had just as many rules to follow. Sometimes more, as she balanced disguises and covers and instructions from her bosses.

She caught Quinn’s eyes over their menus. Yesterday she was quite certain she determined his eyes to be green, in the dim lighting of her Velvet spire, however, glancing over now, she swore they were blue. What a pity. She was going to have to spend the entire meal gazing into them again, just to be sure. The thought drew a soft giggle form her lips, which was a welcome diversion from twitching fingers craving chemical release. She took his hand, to still her fingers. Shadi was an affection woman after all, so it was in character. It was nice with her wants and the needs of her persona overlapped.

Joaca approached the table with her wine and Quinn’s drink. “Are you ready to order?”

“How is the Bivoli Tempari?” She asked, cognizant of how strange it was to ask a droid’s opinion of food.

“Highly reccomnded,” The droid reported, as it was programmed to, no doubt. Never the less Shadi nodded her head.

“I’ll have that then, and a salad.”