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Melia Quelon II
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The sun broke slowly over the palace, its rays causing the clear waters of the Solleu river to glisten and sparkle as the first rays crossed it. Theed was a very laid back city, its inhabitants enjoying a life of pleasure and excess which many other planets would envy. With its grand architecture and colorful surroundings one could almost say that it as close to paradise as one could get... but like most things, as soon as one started venturing below the soft and pleasant exterior it soon became clear how perverse a place it really was.
Much of the cities political structure was built around families of aristocrats and businessmen. For the most part the government was entangled by its own corruption to the point where anyone in a public position of power was little more then a puppet to these families, if not apart of the families themselves.
But such things were trivial. All he wanted were the skeletons many of the ruling class hid in their respective closets. This particular skeleton he had spent almost two weeks attempting to track down through the cities concourses and alleyways. A skeleton by the name of Melia Quelon.
His first encounter with the girl went smoothly, to which he was payed accordingly. Really it was a glorified courier job, take package from point A to point B. Simple really... that was until he received a message from Roworth a few days later.
At first he thought it was a bad joke. They had just payed him a handsome sum to escort her to Naboo, but after a brief call he soon discovered his employers were serious to the tune of one hundred and fifty five thousand credits. A practical fortune for a man in Jager's position, and on the promise of such a payoff he gathered his gear and set off. It wasn't until a week in to his surveillance that he gauge the difficulty of the venture.
In the grand scheme of things, Ristique Dorson was a nobody. The third heir in the Dorson line he was little more then a seat filler and in alot of cases simply a credit vacuum for the families extensive fortune. His early years were spent managing several smaller family businesses, a career which he retired from early and began living off his inherited riches. He was now in his late fifties and spent his days wandering between parties, lunches and other assorted get together before returning home to his large estate. A man in his fifties who was little more then an aging trust fund baby, hardly an challenge for one such as Jager. But when the small contingent of private security personal who patrolled his home around the clock and the five man entourage that followed him like a shadow were factored into the equation, things got a little more complicated.
Of course nothing a little bit of gun play, maybe a claymore or simply picking him off as he left his house wouldn't solve. High velocity rifles were the solution to many of life's problems... but his bosses, mainly Ae, had made it very clear that if he went about carving a bloody path of destruction that there would be no more work for him ever again. Being employed by the RHA didn't make him above the law.
However Ristique wasn't the target, he was simply the twelve foot high, razor wire tipped wall that protected it. His stalking had brought up very little on the girl to the point where he questioned whether or not she was in fact on the planet. Aeos's Intel claimed she was, but without proper visual confirmation it was merely hearsay. That was until he caught a glimpse of a new addition to Dorson's following. A female draped in a traditional looking crimson and orange robe's had one day ventured outside the estate with him. A positive ID was almost impossible from Jager's position in a small hotel that stood a block down the promenade.
He was really starting to enjoy working for Roworth, Ae had really put on a class act with the logistical side of things. Travel, accommodation and even contacts were provided along with a bio on Dorson and a brief history of the area. But Intel alone wasn't going to complete this task, and though it was fairly thorough it still lacked any recent or in some cases useful information on the man. Though a week of stalking and information gathering had filled in the blanks.
Dorson was a man of fine tastes. He liked his food rich and exotic, his drinks expensive and strong and his women young and excessively attractive, tastes which reflected heavily in his daily habits. Food and drink with friends in the morning or in some cases early afternoon, then it was over to one of many gentlemen's clubs where he would spend hours talking with friends whilst he was pampered by some of Naboo's finest dancers. A life of little worry or care.
Jager needed an ID on the girl that accompanied him. Instinct and common sense told him that she was Melia, but for the price he was paid he was going to make sure. Again the simplest tasks proved the hardest. Whilst Dorson may have been sloppy and carefree his security personal certainly weren't. Twice he had been made whilst tailing them, which he despised due to the very nature of how he was spotted. Thankfully the man mistook him for an off world journalist and told him off, threatening this and that before returning to his duty. The second time was more of an instinctual reaction. A curious look from one of the entourage set off warning signals in Jager's head to which he stepped into a stall and broke contact.
'
Fortune favors the bold' someone once said and when both fortune and patients are combined the payoff is often worth any trouble. It struck him that he was going about this the wrong way, instead of following he needed to be waiting. He was aware of the mans habits and of his usual routine, so instead of starting at the house Jager waited in one of the clubs. In a toilet cubical to be exact.
The odds were one in five that Dorson would attend this particular club on this particular day, but Jager was a gambling man. Casually he entered the club an hour after it opened and stealthily made his way to the male toilets where he took a position up in a vacant commode and waited...
----
Six hours and forty eight minutes later his target arrived. Dorsons guards took up their positions at the entry points and the dull, twanging melodies of the music began to reverberate through the establishments darkly colored walls. With a deep breath he exited the stall and stretched his stiff joints. Show time. He still had no idea how he was going to get close enough to the girl or even if such an act would be possible.
The lighting outside the commode the lights was dim, a spotlight fixed on the center stage as a Twi'lek worked her way around a pole. His focus was not on her though, but on those who sat in the darkness and watched. Two dozen sets of eye's dotted tables and booths around the club. Merchants, politicians, administrators. He was going to have to treed carefully. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his mark. Dorson's life of luxury had made him large, that and the two guards posted either side of the booth plus the one making an effort to act inconspicuous as he sat across the room, though his fixated gaze and ear piece gave him away. With a casual strut he moved towards the bar and took a seat, ordering a drink from the protocol droid behind it before turning to watch Dorson.
The girl stood to the side of the booth that Dorson inhabited, her arms held behind her back and her head low. It had to be her, intuition screamed at him to leave the bar and ambush the group outside. A stun grenade would render his guards momentarily useless giving him plenty of time to swoop in, grab the girl and head for the nearest star port. But intuition was an impatient child, where as the grizzled old man that was his instinct and training told him to sit and wait. Confirm, plan, act. There was no time constraint on the assignment and for the amount that was coming to him, the Corps could shove it.
The Twi'lek on the stage finished her dance, signaling for a half dozen girls to begin working the floor. First give the clients a taste, then horrendously overcharge them for a more intimate version. The girls were methodical on which patrons they hit first. It was clearly a good night for the club as two thirds of the crowd looked to be well off and looking to spend, the other third being himself, the bartender and Dorsons guards.
The Twi'lek who had previously been on display on the mainstage appeared at a side door and began gracefully weaving her way towards Dorsons booth. Jager had always been skeptical of inter-species relationships, finding the idea repulsive in more then one way, but even he had to admit this particular dancer was something else. Her smooth, supple skin was complimented by its own lushes salmon tone. Dorson was indeed a man of fine tastes. He watched as the mans leery eye's studied every detail of the dancers body before offering her a seat on his lap.
It was then when luck decided to strike. The Twi'lek was preoccupied with Dorson, so much so that she failed to notice the glass of native wine that was perched on the edge of the table. The glass clinked against the table, the action sending both into a brief laugh as its contents spilt across the table. It took a few minutes for the mans deep laugh to subside before he reached around and shoved his inattentive servant-girl forward, the waving motion of his wrists clearly indicating her assigned task. It seems that his patients had finally paid off, she had been set right towards him. Casually he turned back to face the bar, taking a swig from the glass in front of him. It took the better part of thirty seconds for his unknown servant to appear at the bar and order a replacement drink for her master. The tone of her voice was similar, though the underline presence of defeat and submission distorted it with a slight monotone. Jager attempted to catch a glimpse out of the corner of his eye but her face was obscured by the hood of her robes, granting him only a shaded view of her cheek.
Taking another deep breath he acted. Forcefully and without warning her took a hold of her wrist, "Hey baby, howsabout' you give me a little one on one time. Ehhh?" He queried in an attempted drunken slur. A slap cross the face from her free hand was her reply followed with a sound of disgust. Jager released his grip and haphazardly brushed the cloth hood off before throwing his arms aside, stating something drunkenly.
It was her soft, emerald eye's that confirmed it. The eye's he had first bared witness too as the closet door parted to reveal a terrified and obviously defeated girl bound and gagged in the corner. The disgusted and scared look on her face melted away to that same terrified look as she realised who he was, but she kept her mouth shut, though he could see she clearly wanted to shout something.
A hand clasped against his shoulder and took a firm grip. He had outstayed his welcome. "Alright buddy, lets go" the owner of the hand ordered. Jager jerked as he turned, breaking the grip, but bringing him face to face with the escort.
BallsThe same escort had mistaken him for an off world journalist, his warning still ringing in Jager's ears "I catch you here again and you'll regret it". He turned to look but Melia had retreated back to Dorson, escorted by another one of the mans guards as another came to assist the the removal of Jager. He could have easily blindsided the one who had again taken a grip of his shoulder, charged the next before grabbing Melia and making for the exit. Instead he let both men drag him out of the club via the backdoor, throw him up against a wall and land some solid kicks into him before returning. It took most of his self control to refrain from beating both men, or at least attempting to defend himself... but he managed. His thoughts dwelling not on the pain but on the next stage of his plan. The ground work had been lain, all he needed now was to simply swoop in and grab her.
He dragged himself up with the assistance of the alley wall, wincing in pain. A kick had found his dodgy rib.
'
One hundred and fifty five thousand credits' he repeated to himself as he lit a smoke and hobbled down the alley towards the main street.
----
By most standards it was a fairly bright night, the omnipresence silvery glow from the moon throwing shadows across the estate grounds. The usually bustling streets were deserted, the inherent stillness pinching his nerves as he slid up against the estates rear wall. With a wary confidence he craned his head around as inconspicuously as possible before beginning his ascent. columns of dull light shone from the estates windows, sending eerie shadows across the grounds. Their radiance being occasionally blocked by one of the patrolling guards.
This wasn't going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination. The estate grounds were monitored and patrolled around the clock by Dorsons personal security team and their surveillance equipment. Though Jager believed he could at least get inside the estate before anyone really took any notice. From there things would be touch and go.
He had fairly reliable information that suggested the girl was kept on the second floor in a room adjacent to the master bedroom. Dorson had left for a get together at the families main estate on the outskirts of Theed, so he wasn't going to be a problem. Luckily the girl was his dirty little secret so she had been left behind.
With a calming breath he returned the monocular to his equipment harness that was concealed, for the most part, under a earthly colored duster. His hand brushed against his revolver holster on its return. The phrase '
The thing that saves your life, is the thing you'll forget' had been drilled into him during basic training, but he had also taken heed of another stating that
'Never bring something if you don't intend to use it'. The weapons very presence gave him the ability to defend himself if need be, though the knife he had strapped to his boot did the same thing. Unfortunately the estate guards would not simply drop their guns and play fair if the need arouse and Jager was certainly not going to be the man to bring a knife to a gun fight.
Surveying the grounds from his over watch for a final time he paused, took a final breath then dropped from the wall onto the soft earth below.
--
It had been too easy. Overconfidence was a trait that plagued him like a bad smell, but for the amount of security and equipment designed to stop such actions it certainly didn't stop him. Perhaps he had underestimated them. Years of repetitive patrolling with no threats had likely softened the guards making them inattentive and complacent. Theed didn't seem like a place where such acts occurred, and chances are the camera's and guards were enough of a deterrent for any would be burglar.
But that didn't mean he should begin to get complacent as well. If anything he had to be more alert. He was out numbered by a wide margin and doubts to whether or not he would be able to slip back into the night if they caught wind of him had been the Achilles heel of this entire undertaking.
The master bedroom doors were analog, hinges rather then hydraulics. It gave the place a more cosey feel. With a light touch he guided the door enough to let him enter. The lush, crimson carpet that blanketed the room muffled his footsteps as he slipped in. Lighting was poor but he could still make out the large, satin sheeted bed that adorned the center of the room. The mans tastes were echoed through out the halls of his estate. Busts of family members complimented portraits that were scattered along the halls, which lead towards the main entrance hall. He had decided to give the sight seeing a miss, he never had a taste for artwork.
Two doors sat at opposite ends of the room, a slither of light protruding from the base of one. His package was there. Like a specter he moved towards it, taking up an adjacent position and listened for any movement coming from inside. Footsteps, again muffled by the carpet. By his count there was one occupant. Mimicking his entrance into the room, he reached out and carefully opened the door.
She was taller from memory, the top of her head coming in line with his nose. Her caramel brown hair stopping just short of her shoulders swayed freely as she wandered towards the bed. The room itself was small by most standards, servants quarters, because after all thats what she was. Jager crept up, his hands ready to get to work. In a move he had practiced a thousand times before he clasped a hand across her mouth and another around her neck. The move itself was an opening to any number of lethal take downs, but this time its purposes were more benign.
She cried out deftly into his gloved hand, her struggling ceased by a sharp, though harmless jolt from the arm around her neck.
"Don't scream... I'm not here to kill you"
Again she attempted to cry out, again his hand denied her the opportunity.
"Melia Quelon, correct?"
Verbal confirmation was simply a formality warranted only by the jobs price tag. She froze up as a wave of terror washed over her. Not the answer he was looking for. With a violent, sudden jolt he managed to break her silence. A weak, shaky nod confirming what he already knew.
"I'm here to get you out..." he whispered in her ear, "Don't scream." His arms released. Melia bolted forward and let out a cry of terror as she tried to get as far away from her unannounced savior as the room would allow her. Someone had to of heard the scream...
"Stay away from me!" She cried as one of her dainty hand's dug for something under the pillow, "Come another step closer and I swear.." Servants don't sleep with weapons under their pillows for obvious reasons, especially servants who are held against their will. With frustrated sigh he advanced, calling the girls bluff. It was as he approached that she recognized him. Her fear increased ten fold, causing her to curl up and whimper.
Jager didn't need this, though a part of him expected it would happen. Comfort and reassurance were some of his many weak points, but apart from rendering the girl unconscious, there was little else that would get her to move. He stopped before the bed and brought his eye's in line with her's. Acting however was a strong point.
"Melia, please." The soft tone in his voice and the pseudo-innocence portrayed on his face appeared to work as her trembling slowed. "I'm here to get you out, but we need to go now..." She looked as confused as he felt about this deal, but he had little time to spare on fabricating an explanation. "Please, I'll explain once we're clear of the estate." he finished, extending an arm.
And the award of best performance in an a drama goes to... Jager. The girl slowly lowered her defenses but remained huddled in the corner of the bed. It would take more then a few hallow words of reassurance to completely convince her of his intentions, but he didn't need her completely convinced. A sharp knock at the master bedrooms doors broke the moment,
"Is everything alright!?" The guards response to the scream was lagged, but better late then never. Melia gave one quick look at Jager before responding. She could have sold him out,
"No.. no, everything's fine. I'm sorry for the disturbance"
She didn't... Jager's hallow charms had done the job. However they were not nearly enough to convince the guards. He could hear the doors being swung open and the soft, metallic clatter as weapons were swept across the room. Melia's door was barged open by one of the over zealous guards, his weapons flash light fixed solely on her.
Jager acted. With his revolver in his right and the knife in his left he charged the man, knocking his weapon to the floor before embracing him in a headlock. The blade of the knife pressed hard against his throat and the revolver pointed at his bewildered companion. its florescent tipped sights fixed firmly on his chest.
"Drop it or I drop him!" Jager barked, inching forwards. In truth he had backed himself into a corner. There was no way he could leave without a fuss now, the guards simply wouldn't allow it. He could see the fear in his opponents eyes. Fear was never a good thing. Fear made usually sensible men do stupid and illogical things, things like attempt to alert the others to Jager's presence... he couldn't have that. It was a no win situation, but at least he could start it on his own terms.
A fine red mist arced out behind the guard, his weapon clattered to the ground followed closely by himself. The problem with homicide was that it was addictive, one lead to another then another. His knife cut a clean line between both his hostages ear's, sending an arterial spray outward before Jager tossed him aside. Now his worst fears had been realised, he was out manned and slowed by his package, a happy ending had all but vanished and now it seemed that carving a trail of of bodies towards his and her freedom was the only option.
Aeos was going to be pissed,
but like most things he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Focus less on the future and more towards the task at hand, as someone had once told him.
---
There where no sirens, no flashing red lights, no calls over a megaphone for him to surrender. In fact the only sign that anything was amiss was, well, nothing. It was if they hadn't heard the gunshot, the screaming or the call for backup that had ended abruptly. It must have been his lucky day, but lady luck could be a spiteful bitch when she wanted to be.
Footsteps echoed around the corner in front of him, the thick carpet wasn't as thick as he first thought. Yanking Melia along as he took cover behind a bust of a bearded old man, he raised his revolver to greet any new arrivals and waited. Patients was a marvelous thing, and the man who wielded it would no doubt have the advantage. The first guard clambered around the corner unaware of the danger. The sharp crack from the revolver pushed the point home and made it the last lesson he'd ever learn.
His friends however took the hint and halted short, one attempted to catch a glimpse but a pot shot sent him back as quickly as he had came. The advantage was still in Jager's court. These men were paid to protect the estate, not destroy it. Something running gun battles would certainly accomplish. His assumptions however quickly changed when the first volley shredded the corridor, a round turning the bust the two had taken cover below into a splintery jigsaw. With the death of their colleges these men had clearly decided to take an eye for an eye. The subtle feeling that he was going to regret firing remained entrenched in the back of his mind.
His package screamed in terror as she shielded herself and hugged the wall. He couldn't stay here. Earlier surveillance had tagged at least twenty, maybe twenty five men on a rotating shift of the estate. No doubt they were already formulating a plan to flank him, such a maneuver would spell his end.
Another volley of shots, this time more centered, tore through the corridor like a whirlwind. Paintings fell from their hangings and windows shattered. It was time to retreat. Hugging Melia close to his chest he jumped to his feet and fired wildly towards his attackers before sprinting off down the corridor, just barely missing their reply as he dived behind the corner.
A plan began to flesh itself together. The main goal, Escape the estate grounds... easier said then done. The only feasible exit would be from the veranda that he had used to enter the second floor. The problem was that he was running in the opposite direction. A unwitting security guard appeared from a door. A shoulder charge took him by complete surprise, a single shot bringing the encounter to an end. The tally was looking good for the moment, by his count it was four to nil to the away team. Without a second thought he retrieved the mans sub machine gun, more of a machine pistol really, but it would even the odds a little regardless of what name it went by.
Dragging his package behind, he continued on with the push. Progress was good, the estate guards hadn't caught onto his plan yet. Odds are the majority had taken up positions around the main gate with the idea that Jager had reinforcements on the way. No sane person would take on such a force by himself, but greed made people do strange things and Jager was no exception. Greed was the entire reason he was here.
Footsteps could be heard bounding towards him. The flanking had begun. At best he could have taken one, maybe two before it stagnated and neither party wanted that to happen. It was as he paused the a crazy idea hit him.
Maybe the veranda wasn't the only way out of the estate...
A row of ceiling to floor windows lined the wall to his left. Outside he could see the darkened grounds of the estate and the silhouette of the Theed skyline. The fall didn't look too bad. Nothing a roll couldn't cushion. His package however lacked the skills required to fall out of a second story window and not seriously hurt herself.
"Spotted, East hallway!" The guards working the flank had caught up. Time to set his plan into motion. A torrent of fire sent forth a by his liberate machine pistol peppered the safety glass before fractured, an act performed whilst he launched Melia and himself into a sprint. It was a far greater fall then he had first anticipated, the landing becoming less of a controlled roll and more of a awkward and painful tumble ending with Melia unintentionally using him to soften hers. The seemingly endless darkness of the estate grounds lay before them. Shots sending puffs of turf up around them, the machine pistols were clearly not renowned for their accuracy.
With an almost vice-like grip on his packages dainty forearm he began to serpentine towards the safety of the darkness. There was no point in returning fire, he was not here for a body count nor did he need one. The shots grew more and more wild, ceasing as he reached the wall. Without explaining his intentions he half lifted, half threw Melia over the wall then quickly followed. The deserted streets and the darkness covering their escape as they made for the nearest cluster of landing pads.
------
People who say that all you need to survive in the galaxy are friends has never held more then five hundred credits at any one time. Credits open doors, stop speeders, reload guns and parted legs. In this case a fistful of credits were enough to grant him and his package unquestioned passage aboard a freighter bound for Kuat. He was surprised how promptly the captain of the vessel had accepted his offer. The sight of two grass stained, sweaty individuals. One wearing an equipment harness and carrying a loaded firearm and another in torn robes would prompt some men to at least ask for a vague explanation before granting passage.
They were given a small, unused room towards the rear of the vessel. It was cold, dirty and smelt of hydraulic oil and sweat but it didn't matter to Jager. He could taste the paycheck, it was so close. Such a victory called for a celebration, one that the smoking of tobacco and a cold beverage seemed perfect for. Casually he strolled down the ships corridors outside the room, the cigarette rolling between his lips as he attempted to clear his head.
The job was still on. Sure, all that was require now was some leg work but his luck had been too good for nothing to go wrong. He slapped himself on the head and took another drag. Now was no time to get paranoid. Wasting time worrying about what could happen took time away from preparing for it.
His package seemed happy about her change of circumstance, though the sprint away from the estate grounds had worn her out. As long as she kept quiet and didn't cause any problems the drop would be quick. The clank of boots on the plasti-steel flooring of the ship echoed down the corridor. A young-looking crewmen with what seemed to be an attempt at a beard approached.
"Fixed the relay, you should be able to get that message off now."
Jager cracked a weak 'thanks, now leave' smile, finishing it with a shallow nod before he wandered towards the communications room.
--
The door to their room slid with a slight shudder to the side as he waved an arm across the access panel. The captain had given him a six to eight hour trip. Time enough to catch some sleep, smoke some more, maybe clean his weapon and attempt to start a card game against the more gullible members of the crew. Melia had other idea's however.
She had changed from her torn robes into some spare clothing the crew of the vessel kept in an unused storage locker. A stained old singlet and some navy blue work pants, not on par with what he imagined someone like her wearing but he wasn't one to talk.
Her eye's lit up as he entered.He rarely received hugs from almost complete strangers, but it was a pleasant change.
"I... I don't think I can thank you enough" her words choked as she held back from crying. With an awkward chuckle he managed to free himself and sit her back down on the bed. Wet streaks ran down her cheeks. One hundred and fifty five thousand credits and tears of happiness from a moderately attractive young women, he could get used to this.
"So, I just got off the relay with your father." he began, examining himself in a small mirror adjacent to the rooms locker.
"M-my father?"
"Yeah, he said he'll meet us at the landing pad. Seemed like a nice guy"
Melia had gone quiet, though he didn't notice until a few minutes had passed. She had begun crying again, the low sobs gradually becoming louder.
"Yeah, I'd cry too if I had to meet my father again. I bet he'll be happy to see you, dont worry" With a feined interest he opened the locker and rummaged through its contents, all of which were terribly unexciting. Some overalls, a pair of boots, an empty tool box. The sobbing had stopped. A good thing as he was a few minutes away from telling her to suck it up. It was as he went back to examining himself in the mirror when he discovered why.
Looking down the barrel of ones own gun is a terribly embarrassing place to be in. Peaking to the side and seeing a clearly emotionally distraught, young female behind the trigger with a determined yet timid look on her face turned that feeling of embarrassment into one of fear and regret.
With a steady hand he began to gently push the barrel out of harms way. She was having none of it, a quick and incoherent curse followed by his hand being smacked by the stainless steel barrel forcing him to rethink his strategy.
"Melia... le-lets just lower that thing and have a si-"
"SHUT UP!" emotionally unstable was an understatement. She was a train wreck. Her hands trembled chaotically and her face was caked with makeup that had begun to run. The only thing saving him from becoming a surprise redecoration of the small room was the half of her that trembled, the more violent other half portrayed on her red, frustrated and smeared face.
"Lets just talk about this..." He kept the pace of his words slow, his tone soft and caring and his movements to a minimum. "No one wants to hurt you" he continued, "Lets just lower the gun and talk..."
"Talk?!? TALK!?! I've got one reason why we cant 'just talk'." she announced, wagging the gun slightly. Never before had such a statement come back to bite him on the arse, regardless of how empty her words sounded and how poor her delivery was. "You... You are why I'll never be happy. You and people like my Father. You are all the same" he was sure what she was saying made sense to her, which at the moment was all that mattered.
"Slow down... how am I similar to your Father?" He queried, hoping to lower her guard by touching on some emotional nerves. A potentially rewarding yet potentially deadly way to go about things, but it was that or a force take down and at this range he doubted he'd come out unscathed.
"You're both jackals! You ruin other peoples lives to better your own!" she cried, "lives like mine..." This was turning into a bad after school special, but if listening to her prattle on about how her life has been nothing but regret and sadness meant that he wasn't shot, then he'd endure.
"Hey... hey... I never meant to hurt you, and I saved you from that fat-bastard Dorson"
He regretted mentioning the girls tormentor from the moment he uttered his name. The effect was immediate, she twitched with rage and waved the gun's barrel violently towards him. "Who do you think sold me to him in the first place, you bastard!"
Such a revelation was no shock, he'd had a while to speculate as to who she really was during the surveillance and such a scenario had crept up. Sure it didn't explain why he was paying such an amount for her rescue, perhaps because she was his daughter and that's what he was willing to pay for her retrieval. In the end, it was irrelevant to him. He was still two steps away from becoming a bad interior paint job.
"Okay... fine. I admit I'm a bad person, hell you have every right to shot me where I stand but before you do I've got to point something out..." he was running out of options and patients, it was time for a hail Mary.
The girl's breathing grew heavy as her arms began to ache. "o-Oh yeah... Fine, tell me. For your sake it better be good!"
With a relaxed breath he tilted his hand slightly "Safety's still on"
She searched for it almost out of instinct.
He didn't waste a second. A hand clamped down on the weapon, throwing it clear. A lone shot firing as it cluttered to the ground, shattering the mirror behind him before ricocheting into the bed. His other hand took a firm grasp on her elbow giving him enough leverage to yank her forward and into his waiting joint. In little more then two seconds the situation had performed a u-turn in his favor, with force of the blow sending her limp body down onto the unforgiving plasti-steel floor.
The room's door slide to the side as a lightly armed crewmen followed by his captain, who had brought a large knife with him, stormed the room. His revolver lay against the wall and his wasn't about to bring a knife to a gun fight.
"Can I help you, gentlemen." he asked, keeping his cool.
The captain stepped forwards, keeping his knife at the ready, and cleared his throat. "As captain of this vessel, I demand you tell me whats going on." His attempt at authority was laughable, but he was the captain and therefore deserved at least a fabrication of the truth.
"Civil disagreement that turned ugly..."
"And the girl?"
"Pulled a gun. I just saved you from a potentially messy situation..."
There was a murmuring from the corridor outside, the captain had brought plenty of backup. He on the other hand went silent and lowered his knife. Jager had a good few inches on the man and maybe twenty kilos, that and many solid years of soldiering tipped the balance unashamedly in his favor.
"Fifteen thousand credits says you don't ask any more questions." Credits were the best negotiation tool, second only to pain.
"Two conditions" The captain began after a brief moment of consideration. "One, you and your friend are off the ship the second we land and two, no more weapons fire."
"Deal." Both men cautiously shook hands before the captain motioned for his men to leave.
"Captain, wait" Jager called a second before the man left, "Do you have any handcuffs?"
-------
======
Epilogue
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-------
The cup of tea hovered just short of her mouth. Her eye's were fixed on a non-existent object on the table, that vacant stare that a person gets when taking a sip of something. Perhaps he had been to honest, perhaps not honest enough, maybe he should have sent someone else in his place. The tension had formed a lump in his stomach and prompted him to rub the back of his head and scan the room. Renovations where still underway with boxes of supplies and material lining the walls.
"Sooo... yeah. That's pretty much it. She didn't seem to happy about going bac-"
"Do... Do you remember that conversation we had before I sent you to Naboo?" Her posture and the way she calmly returned the cup to its saucer did an admirable job at hiding the frustrated fury that had begun to well up inside her.
"Yeah, but you gotta' look at it this way. I had no choice, It was them or m-"
Again his statement was cut short, "Before we go on, can you recount the key points of that earlier conversation" No matter how he justified it, he was still in the wrong. She had made an effort to stress how she didn't want a blood bath, just the girl.
"Alright, fine. Find and secure the girl, return her to Kuat."
"And what were the conditions?"
With a defeated sigh he slumped back in the chair, letting his head flop backwards so he was addressing the newly painted ceiling. "Dont kill anyone, dont kill Dorson, dont harm the girl"
"So, just so we're clear. I told you not to kill anyone and not to harm the girl, and-"
"I killed four people and harmed the girl..."
What came next truely surprised him. He'd never seen this side of her before, then again he expected as much. Such a high priced and not to mention high profile job had the ability to make or break the agency. For a brief second it looked like she was going to hemorrhage or possibly have a seizure as her hands occasionally mimicked strangling someone. The door swung open bringing with it an attentive looking man, her partner, his squad leader or as he was commonly referred to, Jegora Fal.
"Something wrong?" Jager had never been happier to see him. The violent rage that was consuming Aeos vanished as if it were a mirage, almost causing him to double take.
"No sweetie, everything's fine. Jager was just telling us how he didn't need payment for that last job" The smirk that had subtly formed on his lips quickly vanished as he got to his feet,
"Hey now, lets not get to hasty... After all, I did do most of the job" he announced, his gaze shifting between her and Jegora. "Seventy five percent."
"Fifteen percent." Ae retorted. There was no way he was going he was getting the entire bounty, if anything he would break even with his travel expenses but with the way things were going he doubted it. Aeos paused and took another sip from her cup.
"Thirty five and I don't hand you over to the authorities or tell Dorson where to find you"
The women drove a hard bargain and by the looks of things this was as good as it was going to get. "Deal" he shot back, making a hasty retreat towards the door before she changed her mind.
"Oh, one last thing" she called, stopping him dead in his tracks "You owe me..."
He had no idea what that meant, frankly he didn't care. He'd managed to at least walk away with some petty credit's and for that he was happy. He made a note that next time, if there was a next time, that he'd stick to the conditions or at least lie afterwards.
- OOC:
- Its almost seven thousand words here so there isn't any rush to get this marked.
