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Emile looked back up from his datapad at the surprisingly clean-looking nightclub. After double-checking his equipment he carried in his backpack, he nodded to the bouncer outside, opened the door, and walked in.
The music and atmosphere inside hit him like a wave. There was a bar on the right-hand side of the room. Towards the left, sat the actual "stage," for all of the dancers, surrounded by laughing drunk men. Obviously, this hour must have been a special Twi'lek event, for there sat two female Twi'leks going at each other like there was no tomorrow. Emile rolled his eyes (he never had much interest in female-on-female shows) and continued surveying the room. On the wall opposite him, there was a doorway which led to a hallway. This hallway had little rooms, where you could get a private dance, if you so wished. This hallway continued on to the dressing room for the actual strippers, which was guarded by a bouncer.
Emile went over to the bar, nodded to the bartender, and said, "Give me a troika, on-the-rocks, shaken." This sounded like a strong, exotic drink to the other bar patrons, but in reality, shaking a troika nullified most effects of drunkn-ness. After receiving his drink, Emile swiveled his stool around and watched the show for a few minutes, sipping his drink, pretending that he was getting more and more drunk. After checking his watch, Emile thought to himself, "Zero hour. Few minutes to shift change. Time to make my move."
He "stumbled" over to a nearby loitering waitress, who actually had a pretty attractive ra- then he snapped himself back to the job at hand. He spoke, speaking in the pronounced tones of a man who knows he has had too much to drink, "Hey, beautiful. Want to take the party to a more private area?" The human smiled seductively, then said in a silky voice, "Sure, handsome. Follow me..."
Emile followed the woman over to the hallway. After they entered, the woman nodded to the bouncer on guard in front of the dressing room, and then she slipped inside an alcove for private dances. Emile walked in behind her, his hands tightening on his collapsed crossbow in his holster. She then motioned to have Emile sit down on the bench. The woman smiled at him, and then her hands reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Emile suddenly stood up, saying, "Sorry sweetheart, but not today." Before the stunned woman could react, Emile had his crossbow point against her chest, and his left hand across her mouth. He spun her around, and sat her down on the bench, so that his back was facing the door.
The woman only now began to realize what had just happened. She drew breath to scream, but Emile leaned in closer, his eyes in front of hers, "Don't even think about it. Don't scream, and I don't hurt you." She gulped, nodding, and Emile took his hand off of her mouth. She breathed quickly, her chest heaving. "Now, kneel down on the floor, hands against the wall." She complied, and when she did so, Emile holstered his crossbow, took off his backpack, and rummaged through it. He found what he was looking for: zip-ties. Even in today's modern age, they were still incredibly useful for restraining objects. Or people. He forced her arms behind her back and zip-tied her wrists. Her back arched as he forced her into the uncomfortable position, and she said, "Listen, you don't have to do this, I can pay you-" Emile shoved her from behind, "Shut it. Besides, you're not who I came here for." He gagged her with microfoam tape, and then helped her up to her feet.
The plan was to take the stripper hostage, and then use her to force the guard outside the dressing room to surrender to Emile. Then, he would tie them both up, and lock them in one of the private dance lounges. Making a long story short, he did so, leveling his crossbow at the flustered Twi'lek, who didn't even have time to draw his weapon.
After gagging them both, he took the keycard off of the guard, and used it to lock them in the booth. He would use that same keycard to open the dressing room. Emile had considered taking the entire uniform of the bouncer, but had reasoned it would take too long, and he needed to hurry to keep up with his current schedule.
The reason for the hurry was the shift changes. That was the key item to this whole plan. Sara Dalton, his bounty, came in every day, alone, at around 5:45 to begin her shift. However, her shift began halfway during the previous shift. The purpose of this was unclear. Perhaps the owner simply liked to mess with people's heads? It didn't matter, however. It meant that Miss Dalton was all alone in the dressing room, which he was about to enter.
He swiped the card in the door lock, and silently opened the door, drawing his weapon as he did so. Emile found himself in a small, rectangular room, cluttered with boxes and costumes. As he suspected, there was nobody in the room yet, as it was only 5:43. He settled in to wait directly behind the door she would enter through...
Emile heard her coming from the other side of the door. If there was any suspicion at there not being a bouncer at his station, she didn't show it. He heard the electronic lock click, and then the doorknob turned...
His mark entered through the door, dressed in tights along with a light jacket. She crossed over to the changing counter. A quick glance at her face in the reflection of the mirror told Emile all he needed to know. She looked exactly like the face of the beautiful Sara Dalton his Hutt Employer had recently deemed his. Emile drew his "crossbow." He stood up silently, and aimed the weapon at her back. Emile said, "Dahlia?" using her alias that had been provided by the Hutt intelligence officials. Her eyes moved from her face in the mirror, and met his. The spark of recognition there told Emile that this was, in fact, Sara Dalton.
However, instead of showing surprise or fear at being threatened by a man with a weapon, Sara Dalton raised an eyebrow. Emile hesitated for a moment, allowing himself a smirk, and... was thrown violently across the room, cracking his head against the wall. Looking back on the incident, Emile would regret having wasted those few seconds by grinning theatrically. What had happened was that his mark whirled around, lifting her arm, (presumably using the Force) and simply heaved Emile across the room, cracking his head on the wall.
Emile leaped to his feet immediately, stumbled and supported himself with one hand against the wall, shook his head to clear it, just to see his mark sprint out the door. Emile blinked and gave chase. The employee entrance she used to enter and exit led out directly onto an alley. One hawker looked up from where he was sleeping under a newspaper to see them running wildly. Emile thought to himself as he ran, "Heh. Mildly dangerous my ass..." She exited out onto the relatively empty street, which was in his favor. Nar Shaddaa might be the "Smuggler's Moon," but even smugglers had ethics, and they might have decided to save the poor damsel in distress being chased by a man.
His mark ran into a nearby alley. Emile followed, maybe 3 meters behind her. It was a "dead-end," the alley was closed off by a 4 meter high fence. Insurmountable for most people, but not for a Force-user. She quickly started climbing up the metal rungs, using the Force to help her along. For Emile, however, this was the spit-second needed to bring up his crossbow, steady his aim, and fire. The dart hit her square in the back. She faltered, groaning, then fell back down to the ground, unconscious.
Emile quickly ran over, taped her wrists and ankles, then gagged her. He then stuffed her into a generic-looking sack...
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Emile was able to get through customs relatively easily. It was true that the security around spaceports on Nar Shaddaa had been buffed after the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, but every force had its select few that were greedy. Emile simply knew how to find them. So, with a generous tip to the officer who inspected bags, Emile was able to get off the planet quite easily, and get back to his handlers as fast as possible...
