Night fell on the city of Cormond and
Khepri Tott and Teren Kellem, two Sub-Lieutenants of the Black Sun, were
having dinner at The Speakeasy, an upscale restaurant and casino in the
heart of Cormond. Things had been going bad for the Black Sun since the
death of Lork Rantee and whispers of a rival criminal organization growing
had begin to fill the air. It was a topic of discussion among the
ambitious and scheming men as they speculated openly about the future of
Both Khepri and Teren were closely
studied. For awhile, Jerris had observed them from a mere distance. The
Sub-Lieutenants of Black Sun would be oblivious to his presence as
Jerris had experience in stealth and observation. He spent countless
hours studying Khepri and Teren. Their eating habits, livelihood, and
everyday activities. Learning about the Speakeasy dinner was not easy to
discover. Having to bribe an associate of the organization, Jerris made
sure the information was full. Of course, he was careful and purposely
executed the informant. Would had he given him up, Jerris will be aware.
He was mindful that if this close former informant did break word about
his assassination attempt, might spark close protection. Of course, he's
not well-known in the galaxy. Entering the local restaurant from the
rear. He worn a matching suit from the waiters. Something that hopefully
made Jerris blend within the associates. Might draw him closer to his
two targets. Kill two birds with one stone.
"Have you heard about the Gharzr?" the
Neimoidian Sub-Lieutenant Khepri Tott asked, sounding quite panicked as he
rubbed together his gray hands nervously. His species was prone to fear
and paranoia and he saw danger at every corner. The man had not been the
same since the death of Lork Rantee, who he had a long history going back
to before the Clone Wars. He was thinking about getting off Brentaal and
heading back home ... the credits were starting to dry up and with the
Imperial crackdown credits were not as easily had.
"Don't worry about the Gharzr," the
arrogant human Sub-Lieutenant Teren Kellem said, as he slammed his fest on
the table, knocking over his mug of Corellian ale. "Argh!" he groaned as
he stepped from the table, fearful of the liquid spilling on his pants.
"You see what you made me do now?" he said, as he grabbed a cloth napkin
and began clotting the liquid. "I don't want to hear anymore about some
stupid 'Gharzr'," the man said, as he sat himself back in his seat.
Observing them from behind the doorway,
Jerris started planning. From time-to-time he made plans before making
his move, but the mercenary being risk this time. Not forget he needed
to be "creative". The 'waiter' began receiving their current dish. Did
this cause for poisons? Of course, he did bring along a few liquids
incase, but then again, there were bodyguards. Those who taken sips
before their employers took them. No, not poisons. Think, Jerris. Think.
Given the platter of food, Vox lost his train of thought. As the Rodian
Chef pressured him, he walked. "Alright, alright! Damn, hold your nerfs!"
Damn Rodians. Reminded him of Greedo, poor guy. Anyways, he retrieved
the platter and went walking towards Teren and Khepri. Expertly, he set
down the platter of ordered food from the Chef. "Enjoy." He said kindly.
A fake smile was form before he departed, only as he returned shortly
near the kitchen. Thinking. Thinking. Oh hell, lets just blast them, he
"Did you see in the news that Count Isod
has been shot?" the Neimoidian asked again, not even acknowledging the
waiter as he began to sample his meal. "Blah. Poorly cooked .. again,"
he scoffed, as he tossed his fork aside angrily. He had a delicate
palette and he had never quite gotten used to 'Human' cooking. Khepri
grabbed hold of his goblet of wine and took another long sip, content to
rely on the adult beverage rather than the meal.
"I wish they had killed him,"
replied as he began devouring his meal with less than gentlemanly
manners. "He seems really pompous from what I've seen on Imperial
Holovision..." he said, as his crumbs began to dribble from the corner
of his mouth and fell upon his shirt. "Still ... it feels like the Rebels
are everywhere..." he muttered under his chin as he took a drink from
his goblet again.
Listening closely, Jerris had learned
about Isod being shot. This brought interesting news. But his intended
targets was more of focus than Isod at the moment. No interest came
about Isod. His hidden SSK-7 was soon drawn out when he came out from
the corner. Another was quickly drawn. Approaching a nearby droid
guarding both men, he drew his blaster right over it's spine. His finger
squeezed the trigger, sending a blast shot to his back. Hopefully to
disable the guards systems.
The old model B-1 battle droid quickly
exploded as the blaster connected to the small of its back, causing the
Neimoidian to throw up his arms quickly and began to panic. "No! Don't
shoot!" he yelled, as he dropped to his knees and attempted to hide
beneath the table. It was a pathetic display by the 'powerful' Black Sun
officer, but it was the nature of his species.
Teren's hand dropped to his side and
quickly pulled out his MerrSonn Munitions Q2 hold-out blaster the second
the shooting began. "Scum!" he yelled out as he attempted to bring the
weapon up towards the man. He was old, and he had been drinking, so his
reflexes were not what they used to be. He pulled back on the trigger,
but unleashed a wild shot that went off into the far wall.
One swift encounter left Jerris ducking
down the moment Teren attempted his shot. Missed and off his aim, seems
the drinking had impaired Teren's capacity to shoot Jerris. Yet, he drew
up and aimed his SSK-7 heavy blaster directly towards Teren's temple.
The muzzle was well trained on his head, as he squeezed back shooting
off another round.
The red crimson bolt of death tore into
Teren's temple, sending it tearing through his brain. His eyes rolled up
in a death glare as the second bolt collided, which caused the man's
lifeless corpse to fall forward onto the table, sending it collapsing to
the side and exposing his sniveling colleague.
"No!" the Neimoidian screamed as his
cover was blown, and he began to crawl helplessly along the floor in a
desperate attempt to escape as the patrons began to flee the Speakeasy ...
running in terror as the blaster fire echoed through the establishment.
"Whatever you're being paid ... I'll doub- ... triple it!" he screamed, as
he crawled over Teren's body in his continued bid for escape.
Watching the Neimoidian questioned
Jerris' sudden terror when he entered and startled others. He noticed
patrons fleeing after he killed Teren. Watching Teren's corpse lay
beneath Khepri, he grinned. A sadistic smile was plastered all over his
face. Much indeed he's appreciated making this easy. Coming closer near
Khepri, he drew his blaster over Khepri's eye. The muzzle merely grazed
his face until Jerris' finger drew back again sending another crimson
bolt into his head.
The bolt tore into Khepri's eye, killing
him instantly and causing his body to collapse on that of his dead
colleague. The Black Sun had lost three of its top officers on Brentaal
in the past month and the organization was now suffering from a distinct
lack of manpower at the top. Clearly, the door was beginning to open for
a rival organization to step in to fill the hole that had been created.
Witnessed Teren's colleague fall beside
him. The Black Sun Sub-Lieutenants had been assassinated, leaving Jerris
to obtain some valuable credits from his employer. Just as he finished
his contract, there came a rival organization coming from the front
entrance. Kneeling down, his finger dipped within Teren's skull smearing
blood within his pinky finger. He begun writing down the words his
employer told him to write on a separate napkin. From there, he quickly
escaped from the rear door covering his tracks and switching out to his
Making departure from the Speakeasy near
the heart of Cormond, Jerris had returned to the local cantina near the
docking bay, where his vessel, the Marauder, docked. Sitting in an
private booth by himself, he waited patiently while viewing the Imperial
Holovision, watching news about more Rebels creating terror on other
star systems beyond of Brentaal. He drank up some fresh Corellian Ale
brought by the waitress, whom he winked flirtatiously.
A cup of tea settled on the desk to his
right beside him, it had as been an hour since he had been cleared for
medical treatment. Isod picked up the circlet, and slipped across his
head. The computer systems in the droid were warming up. He could now
see the usual view-screen of the room where the droid was located. He
gritted his teeth, as he worked the control to have the droid move, and
pick up the robes which it soon slid on. As soon as he came home, he had
saw the posting had hit the holo net, his man had succeeded in his job,
and now the holo-news would go from his assassination, and to this
recent attack on the Black Sun, two days, and two victories on both
fronts. The droid opened up the cargo door, and stepped out into the
black of night, drawing it's hood about it's body, folding both hands
into the sleeves, from there he gave the body a command, and it obeyed
silently, avoiding direct contact with people, as well anyone that would
be considered problematic in his case. Thirty minutes later the droid
stepped into the cantina, scanning the occupants, Isod's targeting
system picked up his location, and made his way to Jerris, before
sitting down across him. Sylvain took a few controlled breathes, knowing
that the droid wouldn't betray the drain in his voice from being shot so
he was comfortable with speaking. "At this moment in time, you will find
the agreed amount of the first payment has been accredited to your
account. I do hope that they weren't any trouble." He said, as the droid
subtly shifted in it's seat as it were human, a manipulation that took a
bit longer for Isod, since it strained his body to use the other arm.
"Not a problem. They did not seem like
too much trouble." Silent breath escaped past his lips while another sip
of his ale was taken. A single droplet fell from the corner of his lips
splashing on his shirt. He wiped his mouth off.
"You can see the credits are real, just
as I am. I have more jobs, if you are interested of course." Isod said,
as he glanced to a computer screen with a listing of possible
operations, with a credit point added on each. He used his right hand
bring up the next one, as he waited for the man's response.
"Sure, could use the extra cash." Since
he has been modifying the Marauder for quite some time. Adding illegal
devices onboard might be sufficient. Leaning back, those dark brown eyes
trained on the droid. "What do you got else that needs done?"
"In the slums of Cormond in apartment
building 3x-2 in room 104 is a man who runs a business in refining death
sticks, now this unique formula which he's discovered, and endorsed into
a lovely little side business by the Black Sun, is being held captive
currently. I would like you retrieve the chemist alive, and unharmed,
and his personal bodyguard, both alive. The side job will pay of course,
10,000 credits. That's if you are interested." He added, as he had the
photoreceptors of the droid zoom in on the man's face, so that Isod
could make out the slightest reactions to his words.
No instant reaction. A light nod was
replied. "Alright. Sounds fair enough. Is there anything else aside from
harmless action?" Leaning forward, both hands clasped together while his
eyes peered deeper into the droids face, if it was anyway visible.
"The bodyguard, I would like you prepare
him for a private session. I think it's time I introduced myself to the
Black Sun, and I would like him to deliver a message." He said, as a
datachip was slipped out from the right wrist of the droid, and placed
down onto the table. "Usual data package, unfortunately I only have a
lay out of what the apartment looks like without any alterations, none
of my men have been able to get in. The bodyguard knows his business,
that's for sure. You wouldn't expect anything less from a Clone War
veteran." He said as he waited for that information to register in his
Listening attentively to the droid,
Jerris had nodded. When he lowered a small datachip consisted of a
schematic of the apartment building, his gloved hand fell down
retrieving the chip. On his wrist, he carried a PAC20 visual wrist
computer. The datapad had a memory slot for information. Slipping
inside, he typed a few key codes and activated a hologram of the
apartment. Began studying the place for himself. "They operate all day
and night? Or primarily day or night?"
"It's a six hour sleep schedule for the
man, with eating between batches, it's more slavery then a position for
a man with such talent. Your looking at a guard rotation every six
hours, with a variation between twelve different men. The bodyguard is
always there, I'm informed that he wears a modified AV-1S heavy armor.
The man relies upon it, so this job will require a delicate hand, and a
little creative flair." Isod said, as he held back a yawn.
AV-1S body armor. This means research.
The mercenary had typed more keys as the hologram disappeared from
sight. "Infiltration is one thing. But, could be a little risky. If
joining the rotations, maybe I could gain entry and try...befriending
him. Would you know if they are seeking more hired hands?"
"The Black Sun is finding it harder to
recruit, so if say two men had an accident, I could possibly leverage
the selection of the new guards by my double agent. Do you think you
could play nice with another Mercenary?" Isod asked, as he considered
"As long as the credits stay the same,
then sure I won't mind working a long side another." Trusting others was
difficult and hard, yet the number one ingredient to a successful
"Excellent, I'll see to his acquisition,
as long as you can see to the coming unfortunate accident. I do hope you
don't mind working under an assumed name, I want to make sure your time
with me is kept of course completely out of the public eye." Isod said,
eyeing the man, he was still unsure if this man could truly be trusted,
which was why he had Jenna create this droid body for him, so that his
will could still be carried out.
Features were difficult to distinguish.
Something about the mercenary's past was kept under lock and key. Many
might suspect of betrayal and loyalties, while others become oblivious.
He remains moderate with his expressions, maintaining business eye-level
with the droid. "I'm not eager to be part of the Imperial news. Best to
use an alias."
"If there aren't any further questions,
then?" Isod asked.
"None. I will keep track of this and try
getting it down as soon as possible." He said, standing from his seat.
"Excellent ... If you do have anymore
questions you know how to contact me." Isod said, as he had the droid
rise form it's seat, and start to make his way out. The metallic fingers
drawing the hood further over his face as he moved out of the Unlucky