(open) Sitting on the Strip

[Butler]

Sitting at his own personal table overlooking The Devil's Strip through a bent glass wall, leaning over a basket of greasy potato strings and a modest recyclable paper cup of soda, Lucifer snapped his fingers over the side of the table to rid them of the clinging salt that fizzled to the floor; licking his lips to decide which strip to delicately seize next. A large white napkin set folded upon the table next to him, discarded, traded for the black napkin that lay draped over his black lap. Entirely suited in black silk, a business suit setting himself apart from his usual dealings, he still sported the dashing red sash stuffed into his breast pocket. His thick white curls were tossed over the side of his head, exposing his right ear that kept open to all that passed by the open hall to this fairly empty community box. His black polished dress shoe bobbed over the other, legs crossed under the table, as he kept one shoulder open to whomever joined him. For he was expecting company soon.

He'd spent the day putting up notices for a piloting position, good pay, hoping to catch any swoop rider or independent mercenary who wouldn't outright recognize his face. Regardless if they did, he wouldn't be too picky who he hired. At the end of the day, he'd move on and find himself another watering hole where he might find someone willing to accept his generous credits for the job.

Lucifer partook of a thin potato slice, pinching it between two fingers, and dipped it into the little cup of ketchup before taking a delicate bite. A swoop crashed below while the others zoomed by, all but failing to garner Lucifer's distant observation.

 

[Bantha]

Sybil whipped out her datapad from her vest’s inner pocket, mentally sending it a ‘ping’ to decrypt it. After reaching out and swiping her finger across its screen a few times, she nodded. Yup, the place had to be right. Peering through her mirrored goggles, she stuffed the datapad back into her vest and proceeded forward into the establishment overlooking the death wish fulfilling swoop track.

Someone had the nerve to clog the holonet info boards with classifieds, advertising ‘good pay’ for a piloting job. ‘Good pay,’ she scoffed to herself, ‘is probably the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Would probably have to twist their arm to get anything at all.’ Sybil usually preferred choosing her own jobs, but it was only a bit of time before her bank accounts started dipping into the red, and it had been a while since Atlas had contacted her with another one of those ‘cleaning jobs’: erasing various facts about her from the holonet and other places. They raked in quite a bit of cash, though it was unlikely another would come soon, with Atlas’ recent complaints about being strapped for money too.

Her eyes wandered over to a man dressed in a suit, and it didn’t take long for her to decide that was her man. No one dressed like that unless they were some thug trying to look less like a neanderthal, or someone wanting to attract attention. And silk, no less. That guy had to be rich.

Pulling out a chair opposite him and plopping down, she blew a bubble with her pink gum, and let it pop! She regarded his white face and hair with a tilted head and pout of the lips.

“Hey, you that guy who’s been putting up job offers? Name’s Orin, by the way.”

 

[Butler]

Head down, those ominous eyes arose as though a patient sea creature rising from the deep. Forcing them back down to his basket of wedges, playing at ignorance, he gave no indication of his awareness. So someone would come after all.

Those eyes blinked, wincing to the popped bubble in his face. He looked up again, this time someone looking back at him there.

"Charming," he offered a zealous smile. Then rhetorically, sarcastically, asked, "I don't suppose you're the potato skin type?"

His two fingers dropped the single potato wedge back into the basket before she could answer, landing with a crunch of the surrounding paper. He further rubbed off the salt grease and pushed the basket aside.

"Enjoyed my little wall of welcome did you? Well Orin, I can't claim to be dissatisfied. I'm...your employer, should you wish it. But I require something more than just labor. Tell me. Might I recognize your work anywhere? Perhaps a previous employer whom can offer me a referral?"

 

[Bantha]

With a shake of the head, she dismissed his offer for food, however sarcastic he might have been.

His second question caught her off guard, and the fear arose that she’d be rejected. There weren't many people who would be willing to vouch for her, at least in her present ‘skin.’ And the ones who would be willing would not be able to give a review on her smuggling work. Slicing was her specialty, after all.

Leaning forward and resting her palms flat on the table’s surface, she looked at him in a moment of silence.

“What is it that you need, besides a pilot ?” she asked warily, smacking her gum. “I’m not a coupler.”

She paused to blow another bubble. Pop!Raising a brown eyebrow above her goggles, she smoothly lied, “Sorry, but I can't give you any contacts. Most of them would… prefer to remain anonymous. Just the nature of the beast, you see. And I wouldn’t dare jeopardize their trust in me or our working relationships.”

 

[Butler]

He blinked again to her obnoxious popping. But Lucifer grinned to her final answer. She could not have given a better answer.

"Perfect," his lips kissed the air softly. "You're just what I'm looking for then. The ...silent type. But we'll discuss what I need you for later. What is your base salary?"

Lucifer leaned away from her incessant chewing and invading demeanor, reaching for his drink and gently slurping the fizzing bubbles up into his gulping throat; grinning all the while. But, perhaps even interrupting her, he continued casually.

"I'll triple it. For eight hours work. A quarter now," his finger touched the table, "and the rest when it's done. You know how to shoot a gun, don't you?"

He antagonized and belittled with every blink and pucker of the lips, yet offered her a hefty payday; inferring two things so far: that she'd be flying a ship, and that she'd be following him every step of the way. He did have the look of money on him, and there was no body guard in sight. But he was testing her reactions every step of the way, even since she'd taken the first step into the room; judging what type of person she was, evaluating her in this spot interview.

 

[Bantha]

Oblivious to his apparent discomfort, she went on chewing her gum like she was a nerf and the gum was her cud.

“Base salary? Are you kidding me? I’m a freelance--”

She was cut off mid-phrase by his annoying incessant chatter, but however miffed by it she might have been, she wasn’t now. Eyes grew wide behind her goggles and eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘I could really take advantage of this guy… I mean, come on, he’s probably loaded. Not to mention he’s wearing silk, and needs a frakking pilot instead of doing it himself!

“It’s ten-thousand,” she said, “ and I wouldn’t have survived long in this business if I couldn’t defend myself and my cargo.”

 

[Butler]

Lucifer laughed coolly to her ditch effort and leaned back into his chair, propping his elbows upon the arm rests and folding his fingers together before his chest.

"Then you'll do more than just pilot. And you won't ask any questions. You'll be my navigator, flying my ship and guiding my ...friends. Now, I don't suppose I'm lucky enough to have been gifted a hacker as well as a pilot?"

While waiting for her answer, his fingers unfolded as a hand reached inside his suit pocket and tossed out a small thin datapad like a card sent sliding across the table towards her. Should she pick it up, she'd find the screen black. But if she pressed the action button, she'd discover an algorithm needing to be cracked. No link to what it was for or where it had come from. On it's own, it orbited itself on the screen until certain points were accessed. She'd come to the last question in the interview. If she passed, he was sure to look passed her headache of a habit and hire her for the job.

 

[Bantha]

Leaning back in her seat, she picked up the datapad and gave it a look-over. Frowning, she touched the action button and watched the algorithm play across the small screen.

"Give me a minute..."

Her gum-chewing ceased for a moment as she focused in on the scrolling text. She swiped her finger over the screen, and began entering various character from the virtual keypad. Her fingers and mind working their magic, it was only a few long moments before she broke through the encryption. Yet during that pause, there was a subtle play of micro expressions on her features that betrayed her inner thoughts: confusion, frustration, deep thought, and satisfaction of success.

With a coy smile, she slid the datapad back to him. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Done. Child's play. Could've done it faster if it was an actual computer terminal."

Her gum-chewing resumed with another bubble pop!

"Friends... riiiight. Don't worry. I don't ask questions, I don't tell. IF you don't ask or tell about me. Kay?"

 

[Butler]

His expression sobered, at first, searching her for fallacies. But as she worked on decoding the encryption, Lucifer's grin returned and he relaxed into the ease of wealth; time being something else he may spend as he pleases.

"Haha. That won't be a problem."

He slapped his palm flat onto the datapad and dragged it back into his custody, scraping it off the table and sliding it deep into his pocket; but also rummaging for something else. He pulled out one credit chit, looked at it, then reached back down and withdrew another colored chit and held them two pointed fingers; setting his elbow onto the counter and leaning in towards her.

"Then it's settled. Seven-five."

He placed the two pieces in front of her, amounting to seven thousand five hundred, pushing them forth under twin pointed pressure; holding them there beneath both fingers for added emphasis and staring her down devilishly as if to dare her.

"I'll know when these are used. I'll know how. And I'll know where. I've recently fallen into the banking crowd. Trust me, you won't want to skip out on the rest of your payday. Trust me."

He let go of the credits and leaned away again, twisting off of the chair smoothly onto both feet and tossing the black napkin from off his lap up onto the table. This time he reached into his back butt pocket and pulled out a compact jet-black personal communicator, and set it gently onto the table.

"Keep that. Be ready in two days. Wait along the Hydian. I'll call you on that. You come pick us up. Keep it small, discrete. Make sure it's cleaned out. We'll need room for nine. And make sure it's stripped. We'll be flying through some strict areas. Non detectable and non traceable, understand?"

He slid his fingers inside of his collar and jerked the suit jacket tight against his neck with a straight spine, leaving her with one last glistening glance. He pivoted away and casually exited.

Calling out passively, "See you soon..."

 

[Bantha]

"Good," she said.

She made sure to paste a greedy smile on her face when she noticed him pulling out the credit chips. About to snatch them up, she frowned when he paused, staring her down like a prosecutor in a court room.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, "You... bugged these? Don't take me wrong, I'm not suprised... I could easily slice the chips and remove the trackers if there are any. I just didn't think you were the type."

Grabbing them, she counted the chips, then continued, "And don't worry. I'm not going to run. I'm not missing a payday like this."

She picked up the black com unit from the table and slipped it into her inner vest pocket.

"Got it. Keep in mind, it might be a bit cramped with nine passengers, plus me. My ship's not huge. Though the cargo bays will be cleared out. And I'll look over her top to bottom, port to starboard, to make sure she's clear."

Nodding at his parting words, she smiled inwardly. A big-ass payday was on its way.