Crystal Goblets

[Butler]

The crowd roared within the Jade Gauntlet, renowned dueling ring and frequent of the finer lifestyles that drool over the drudgery. Feasting and slurping, laughing and lounging lewdly over exposed legs. Here only the wealthiest could afford to enter and enjoy the highest whores, serving you drums of meat and goblets of the smoothest wine and sharpest cognacs. Their bodies exposed themselves, spilling onto men and slugs alike; just as gladiators fought of their own free will and for coin down in the octagon below, beating each other bloody for the chance to become the greatest and wealthiest fighters outside the slave casts.

Lucifer, clad in white dress suite, white shoes, white gloves, even white hair slicked back wet down his neck, with but a single red sash stuffed into his breast pocket, sat in a round couch alone with arms spread across the headrest. A single empty martini glass held a clear plastic pick stuck through one pimento olive on the low oval table in front of his crossed leg. He stared down at the spiked leather gladiators without cringing to the mace that bashed through the other's shoulderblade with a crunch, stretching a single finger up to catch the passing cocktail waitress who's shimmering silver tassels swayed to a standstill.

"Another gin..."

She nodded with an emphatic squeak and a smile before clicking off on her heels. Still Lucifer's head did not turn, even as he noticed the time on his silver linked watch sparkling crystal upon its face.

 

[Livgardist]

Verus Fett looked around as he stepped into the Jade Gauntlet. He was no stranger to places like this; In fact, he had spent a good few years in one exactly like this, as a fighter-for-hire, beating up on gladiators. This time was different. Last time he had been in an arena like this he had been there to fight, in combat gear. This time he was wearing one of his cheap, loose-fit suits, and aside from a karambit, was virtually unarmed, as was so common with the Mandalorian clan leader. And, there was another difference. Last time only his own life had been in his hands. These days, however, he was responsible for the lives of over one hundred and fifty people, fellow Mandalorians like him, who were waiting for news of what would be their future, back home on Lok.

They had all heard the reports of what had happened in the Mandalore Sector.

Verus had a bitter taste in his mouth thinking about it. But there would come a day when the Sith would pay for what they had done. There would come a day not just when they would feel the wrath of the Mandalorian vengeance. No, there would come a day when their entire world would burn. Everything they held dear, everything they had fought to preserve and nurture into growth. Their civilization, their empress, their people and their armies. It would all burn. Burn to ashes.

But that future was still far away.

"Your weapons." A guard said as Verus approached the open arch that led out to the balcony where his Cartel contact was to meet him. The man did not seem at all afraid, even knowing he was facing a Mandalorian. Perhaps it was the lack of beskar'gam, or perhaps the man really was good enough to have that level of confidence. Verus unsheathed his karambit, spun it around in his hand, and offered it to the guard grip first. The man took it, while another quickly but with experience patted Verus down, finally nodding and gesturing for him to pass. Verus did just that, stepping out onto the balcony, passing by a scantily clad waitress as she stepped inside.

The contact sat to his left, enjoying the battles below while finishing off a martini. He was a strange looking man, with white clothes, white hair, and pale, white skin; not sickly white, just pale white. In fact the only thing not white on him was a red sash stuck in his breast pocket. Verus pulled out a simpler chair, flipped it around, and sat down on it backwards next to the man, putting a cigarette in his mouth but not lighting it. Instead, he took it out to say:

"A little bird whispered in my ear. Whispered that if I needed friends, this was a good place to make them."

 

[Butler]

His eyelids fell to slits inside unflinching head as the mandalorian spun a char and sat down next to his booth. Lucifer's right arm whipped up from the headrest, fingers sharply snapping to the waitress before pointing to the unlit cigarette. Leaning forward in the meanwhile, retrieving the crystal spiked olive, Lucifer turned to his new acquaintance and smiled only through his cold blue eyes with a corner bite into the olive's flesh.

"There's no place better."

Flick went the spark from the waitresses hand, burning a respectfully distant flame before the man's cigarette, other holding a small tray of assorted cigarra. Lucifer flicked the olive and pick onto the table next to his glass and leaned back to choose a smoke for himself. He opted not to choose and waved her away. As much as he liked to play to class and glamour, fancy brands, in truth, turned his stomach.

"No friends better." Lucifer gave him eye contact for reassurance in his own confidence. "I'm glad you've come. And as a man of action, I'll not waste your time. But please feel free to order anything you like, courtesy of my own credits. See it is in my own interest, not just the Cartel, that the mandalorians repay those snakes down to the last fractured eggshell."

All the while, their waitress passed by if Verus decided to order anything. Lucifer's own gestures and focus, while speaking to Verus, was casually in and out of direction and demonstrated permission to break away and order without disrupting the flow of conversation.

"I am here to offer a mutually beneficial symbiosis," he began.

 

[Livgardist]

"Thank you. I'm good." Verus said, dismissing the waitress with a polite gesture. "What you say sounds promising. Let me be blunt with you. My people, my brothers were betrayed, butchered by the Imperium, our homeworlds destroyed. Mandalorians are many things, but forgiving is not one of those things. We want their blood. I want their blood. I want to crush them under my bootheel, watch their masks of arrogance crack and reveal the cowardice beneath it, as everything they know and care for burns to ash. I want to put their precious imperium aflame, burn it like a raging inferno of retribution. I want them all dead. Every last one of them. I want a genocide on Sith." His eyes narrowed, hate glowing in them. His voice however was still perfectly controlled, like a loaded spring ready to burst into action.

"We need friends. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Tell me, what can Clan Fett do for the Cartel to solidify this friendship? Ask, and it shall be done." He looked into the other man's eyes, determination in his own.

 

[Butler]

Lucifer smiled, eyes closing a glance down to the seat next to him. He retrieved his 7x5 inch data pad in one hand and touched his lip in thought with the other. Using that finger, he began writing.

"...I don't trust these lovely ladies," he casually explained as he continued writing. "Or any lady for that matter."

He finished writing, then turned the screen around and handed the pad to the mandalorian.

"These are... bullet points. Generalizations of what we, the Cartel, would like from you and yours. Does anything conflict with your goals? Perhaps something especially interests you?"

 

[Livgardist]

Verus took the pad the man offered him, and looked through it. He nodded slowly as he returned it.

"It is a good deal, and one that Clan Fett will be more than happy to take. If your enemy is the Imperium, then Clan Fett will be your sword. Give us a homeworld, and we shall fight with the ferocity that our people and culture are known for. The Imps will rue the day they made enemies of the Mandalorians and the Cartel both." He offered his hand to the man, nodding as he spoke. "If you will, a friendship between a clan and a cartel, rather than a simple symbiosis."

Verus stood up.
"There is much preparation I must make. The Clan is abandoning Lok, and now we know that we're moving into Hutt space. It is a safe haven of sorts, one where we can build our strength. Now we must oversee the evacuation efforts, and do so without catching the eyes of the Imperium. In a way, the Cartel has given us the means to fulfill our purpose. For this, I thank you, my friend." He offered the slightest of bows, quite a sign of respect considering few Mandalorians ever bowed at all, and walked out of there.