Undercity Liaisons

Posted on Sat Dec 8th, 2012 @ 10:27pm by Kalen "Rex" Vickers & Kip Hoddai

1,735 words; about a 9 minute read

Chapter: Chapter II: Era's Dawn
Location: Coruscant Undercity
Timeline: 2200 Hours (Local Time), Day Five

At the farthest base of Coruscant's planet-wide Galactic City was something very rarely referred to as little more than the Undercity; a hive of lowlifes, gangsters, and cheap establishments - as well as some deformed creatures, in some of the less visited areas - all against the backdrop of swoop gangs and over-commercialisation. Although not as bright as the upper levels (and the sky could not be seen from this distance, given the light pollution), holographic billboards, advertisements and sounds all filled the area, not even drowned out by the constant din of the sizeable crowds.

Moving through the crowd, smuggler and Hutt Cartel supplier Kalen Vickers could not be happier. Here, he could blend in, be ignored and (hopefully) avoid any trouble. No one knew him, and for the most part, no one was interested in knowing him. It wasn't that Rex, as he had been nicknamed from a young age, was unfriendly. In fact, far from it - he just had no wish to be caught up in a brawl or stand witness to violence. After all that had happened in his life, he was just happy to do his job, earn his credits, and then sit back and relax, as far away from overbearing laws, rowdy criminals and trouble as he could, although this was not always easy in his line of work.

Operating as a supplier for the Hutt Cartel to sell their wares and merchandise to a variety of contacts he kept and maintained, he often met unsavoury characters: bounty hunters with missing eyes and no scruples against murdering innocent people in their objectives, privateers who enjoyed capturing slaves during their over-violent heists and - on one occasion - even a Dark Jedi. Rex's role was to just ferry the merchandise between worlds at the behest of his employers, using a leased-out ship - the G-bit (once named the Gambit, but the paintwork had taken some damage over the years) - to move the supplies around, serve as his mobile home, and where he could make the necessary alterations to whatever equipment a particular client was after.

All in all, he was good at what he did and he enjoyed his job, so long as he did not take it too seriously, and was paid enough to keep him amused for a few nights, although business had grown rather tense in the last couple of weeks, with an internal turf war between two Hutts on Nar Shaddaa. One of his primary bosses was Grogga the Hutt, one of the older and more successful Hutts within the Cartel and a surprisingly good sort for his species, but he had come into direct conflict with Zorbo the Hutt and his Consortium. From what Rex had heard, as he had been offworld at the time, Jedi of various natures had been involved, and Zorbo's prime establishment - the extremely successful Casino Zorb - had been destroyed, and Grogga's own estate had been ransacked. Rex had not heard from the older Hutt for a few days now, but he was certain he would be well and alive.

Giving a smile to the bouncer at the door of the brightly-lit but less than savoury appearing Skerva's Den cantina, Rex walked in, and was immediately hit by the pungent fragrances of various alcohols and numerous types of smoke and other delights within. Off to one side, a young scantily-clad Theelin woman was dancing as aggressively as possible atop her pedestal, with men (and even some women) throwing credits her way. Rex grinned to himself at the sight. He wasn't above enjoying a good dance, but he knew tonight would be awkward to get involved; some of the people around her would likely be causing trouble if someone else muscled in on the action, so he just sidled up to the bar, rested one elbow upon it and waited casually for the bartender, promptly ordering a Jawa juice and taking a swig of the sharp alcoholic beverage, a favourite from his youth on Tatooine. He did not expect to have to wait for his client long.

"Rex," tall figure murmured as it parked next to Rex, the figure over two meters tall and covered from head to toe in wrapped fabric and goggles, all covered in a dark cloak that came nearly to the floor. In profile, it resembled some upright reptilian or feline species under the coverings, the left arm appeared to be completely cybernetic. The voice, distorted, seemed like Kip's inflections.

Almost jolting at the sudden appearance of the mysterious figure, Rex quickly composed himself and took a swig of his drink. "Kip, that you?" He peered closer in to the dark being. Whilst he was accustomed to peculiar clients, Kip had always been amongst the more eccentric and unique in his handling of affairs. Rex tried taking it in his stride, and so decided to just let out a small chuckle and shake of his head, scratching one of his lengthy sideburns in the process.

"Could be," came an almost playfully evasive reply, "then again, maybe not. Do I look Devaronean?"

Rex observed him carefully, shifting his head to one side as he smiled with some amusement at the figure. "Well, given our shared love of technology and fiddling 'bout with things, I'm gonna guess that it is you in charge of this things... but what this thing is... Well, it could be a droid, or something new you've been tinkering with?"

"Something new," the other being affirmed. "Is this a social call or are we doing business?"

The dark-skinned Human raised a defensive gloved hand. "Hey, hey!" He said. "Cool your cannons, my friend - just curious, is all. Now, tell me: how'd you like to do this? I mean, I've got a good amount of equipment tucked away both at my ship and several on-world safehouses, but what way are you thinking to handle this?"

Rex's variety of clientèle meant there was a variety of preferences. Some were careful to place a specific order weeks in advance and arrange an exact location to meet for a handover, or for a specific drop, whilst others frequented the spots Rex visited at particular times, which his employers shared with them when appropriate. As well as a standard stock that he always had about (both on board the G-bit and at Cartel locations on various planets, Rex often had things tailored to order, sometimes by himself.

"I can have agents pick up the gear," came the casual reply, "and anything you have locally, I can arrange for transport privately."

"Humph," Rex gave a short grunt of a laugh, still smiling as he brought his drink to his lips, enjoying - despite hating the flavour of - his sharp Jawa juice. "In a real talkative mood tonight, aren't you, Kip? So tell me: what are you after this fine evening? I'm afraid the Cartel's got me putting my prices up a bit, given all that mess on Nar Shaddaa lately, but deals are still pretty good. Better than GalactaWerks prices, anyway!"

"Can you get me a untraceable astromech?" Kip asked, sipping the beverage he was carrying.

"An astro-droid?" The Human pulled his head back in slight surprise, before his eyes narrowed in thought. "Well, that kinda thing normally needs more notice," he explained, waving a hand about, "but yeah, I think I could get my hands on the kind you're after... for a few extra credits, of course."

As Rex waited for Kip's reply, he found his eyes wandering over to one of the many displays mounted across one wall. It was a repeat of a quarter-final swoop race with several big names being flounced about. The main semi-final loops were being held the following day on Coruscant itself, but currently being shown was Peo Chinu, a young Pantoran woman who Rex was not afraid to admit his fondness for her. He was pleased to see she had actually made it to the semi-final. Not simply because he thought it was good for her career, but mainly because it meant he would get to see more of her on the big screen.

On the display next to it, however (going largely unwatched) was some noise about Supreme Chancellor Paralles and a programme about selling off some agencies to corporations cheaply. Something to do with encouraging Outer Rim growth, but Rex was amongst those not particularly interested. Politics hurt his brain - largely because it meant having to take some sort of side.

"Put your sack back in your pants and cut the deal Rex," Kip's disguise quipped, "Forty-five hundred in cash, if it costs less you keep the difference."

"Y'know, there's a reason why most people don't like dealing with you, Kip," Rex said it half-seriously, still with a slight grin on his face. "And it's going to cost more than that if you wannit untraceable and this short-notice. Sixty hundred and you got yourself a deal, but you're paying for my drink." He pushed the now-empty glass towards Kip to make his point clearer. "Now where are these 'agents' meant to be getting the gear?"

"Kalen," the taller being chuckled, "you wound me! But then, I love it when you flirt. Fifty-five and a five-percent over on the pickups, on successful pickup. Just need coordinates and I'll have my people come around and pick up the bits." Silently a gloved hand reached over and dropped a few credits into the empty glass.

"Fifty-six and you turn up in person next time," Rex replied with a grin and a tone that made it clear the bartering, if that's what it could really be called was over. He brought himself around and away from the bar and shuffled his shoulders about, loosening up. Once limber, he shoved a gloved hand into his sleeveless black jacket, pulling a small and worn-looking datapad out from within, which he promptly shoved towards the figure representing Kip. "This time tomorrow, you'll have your nifty astro-droid. Co-ordinates will come through on there an hour before the meet, and then all you do is bring the datapad with- Sith spit, you know how it goes, man!"

The Cartel smuggler gave Kip a hearty pat on the shoulder. "As always, doing business with you's like birthing a rancor, but at least it's different!"

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