Ask Tatooine Redemption

[Preef Callo]

REDEMPTION

Operation Mogul starts on the planet Tatooine​

​

The Imperial Security Bureau (ISB) knew that it was difficult to get into the Supreme Mogul's inner circle from the outside. After all, after botched assassination attempts by both the Mandalorians and the Sith Order, the patriarch of the Desilijic clan had improved his security so much that the official estimate was that he was thrice better protected than the Emperor. As such, the intelligence division -with the aid of Imperial Czerka- had groomed the perfect mole from birth. It was Cipher Seven's task to infiltrate the posse of legendary gunslinger PREEF CALLO in order to get passed the Supreme Mogul's defenses and join the Hutt's inner circle for a lethal blow, or for continued intelligence.

---

The aging rodian -for he was in his early seventies by now- sat at his usual table at Mos Eisley's Belching Frog Saloon. It was a quiet morning as he had send most of his gang to make trips across the planet to collect the cartel's Chakaph, or tribute, and thus he sat there mostly by himself nurturing a cup of really strong caf and smoking a systech stim. These days he needed Systech adrenals and kolto baths in order to stay in somewhat of a fighting shape. He knew his job. For decades he had provided the Zaa Fenn Crime Family protection by reputation, watched Kara grow into her role as a boss and helped her raise her only child, Dismas.

But the rackets weren't what they used to be. Kara was a bounty hunter and slicer that assembled crews on request and only after payment, so she had reformed the Zaa Fenn to cater to those needs. Armed robbers like Preef were useful when a trigger needed to be pulled, but modern crews depended more on slicers and droids that were not only expendable but also specifically programmed for a job.

He had lost hope for Dismas, too. Their pirate astro-navigator was more likely to accept a regular job flying for one of the corporations than he was taking over the reigns of their crime family. What he needed, or so Preef often mused as he sat here in his saloon drinking and smoking, was a man that was more like Crix Dolan. A man with the mindset of an enforcer who laughed in the face of risk instead of carefully mitigating them beforehand. What he needed, was another Preef Callo.

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Seven was on Tatooine. The soles of his boots dug into the hard packed dirt of the main street in Mos Eisley. His eyes locked on the bar at the end of the lane. He unhooked the mask from his face and lit up a cigarra. He was in his infiltrator suit and had made a few alterations to account for the dessert. The helmet was the same color as his suit, the mask he’d detached to smoke was a filter, ironic.

Seven was thankful for this mission. This was an operation with some fucking chest hair. He was out from anyone’s shadow. A shit eating grin settled on his lips. He had everything he needed. Now, he just needed to keep an eye out for that fucking asshole Dismas.

Seven blew a plume of smoke into the air and returned the mask to his face. He was Sev Garris, gun for hire. Born and raised on Ord Mantell where he cut his teeth and cut down his first man. He’d keep the majority of his background details close to home. No need to complicate anything, besides this guys wasn’t that far from Seven. Hell, if he’d have grown up out of the Empire’s reach he’d be doing this walk all the same.

Funny how that works.

Sev stepped into The Belching Frog. He stood silhouetted into the light as the patron swung their attention in his direction. He made his way to the bar.

The barkeep eyed him saying, “What can I getcha?”
“Dantooine Cognac,” responded Sev.
The Barkeep cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t argue as he grabbed the bottle, “That’s an interesting pallet, not many spring for the Cognac,” he said pouring Sev’s glass.
“What can I say, I like my citrus with a little whisky.” Sev replied.
The barkeep laughed, “You wanna start a tab?”
“I’ll pay as I go,” he said, sliding the bartender his money.

Before the Bartender could step away, Sev lowered his mask and asked, “You wouldn’t know where a guy could find a little work around here, do ya?”

He lifted the Cognac and took a sip. The Bartender’s eye slipped to the right and Seven smirked. He was here. The Bartender cleared his throat, “I’ll see if we’re hiring.”

“Thanks,” said Sev with a lift of his glass.

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

"Preef!" the bartender shouted passed Sev Garris, "This guys said he's looking for work."

The old rodian turned his head towards the bar and if he made eye-contact with Sev, then he'd motion for him to come over and sit at his table. The systech stim dangled from his lips and the caf on the table steamed about as much as the stim smoked. Wrinkles and dried skin covered the rodian's face and hands. He was from a species that preferred humid conditions, after all, and yet for some reason he had chosen to reside on the infamous world with Two Suns and a known lack of surfacewater.

"Sit," Preef kicked back on the chairs, making it clear he wanted the stranger to sit right there. "What is your name?" there was something familiar in the way he walked, but with his face all covered up Preef wouldn't know if it was an old friend or an assassin coming here to take him out. Luckily he wasn't that old that he had to worry about not being able to out-draw assassins.

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Sev kept his eyes forward as the bartender called over to Peef. There was a moment of silence and he turned in the direction the Weequay had been speaking.

Peef and Seven locked eyes.

Sev took a sip of his drink and stood. He thanked the Weequay. The bar had fallen silent. Footfalls across a creaky wooden floor announced his approach. He came to a stop a few feet from the table. Drink in one hand, the other hanging free. He had no intent of drawing on the Rodian, but he wasn’t dumb enough to think he was safe either. The Rodian kicked out a chair and told him to sit.

Sev sank into the chair. He kept both hands on the table, a little show of good faith.

“Sev Garris. Your name speaks for itself, it’s an honor,” he said with a nod. He knew Peef could care less what some shit stain from the streets thought of him, but he also knew he was trying to get a job, not killed.

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

The rodian smiled just like someone that who merely does so out of politeness, while what he really wanted to do was put a bolt in your face. "An honor, Mister Garris?" he motioned for the young man to take off his helmet completely and deposit it on the empty chair to his right. "I am an old quick-draw in a galaxy where they rarely see passed their mid-twenties," Preef let out a quick exhale, almost a snort, as if to mock the statement that he had heard so often. "My son would call me a murderer, the villian from his nightmares," his son, Jon Callo, had been a Sector Ranger for a decade before he joined the Jedi Order. Something his father had actually orchestrated with Jedi Master Hera Albion. "and the Crymorah blame me for growing the syndicate so big, that the galaxy needed to correct it. Our assets dwindled and we are now -once again- subservient to the cartel." and while he had just enough pull with the Supreme Mogul and what remained of the Crymorah Syndicate to guarantee somewhat of a careful peace between the two syndicates, said deal only held up for as long as the rodian lived. He knew Kara already had plans ready for when she needed to relocate the Zaa Fenn away from hutt-controlled space.

"But," the dried and aging rodian's face cracked open into a more meaningful smile as he signalled the bartender something and then took a large sip from his caf, "You know my draw is still quick enough to enforce the cartel's law on a planet like Tatooine, so your first words were to flatter me."

Preef lowered his right hand and it disappeared underneath the table while the left still held the systech-stim between the thumb and the index finger. "I wonder what your next words will be."

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Sev removed his helmet. His half lidded baby blues met Rodian's pale green eyes. His instincts went on full alert as Peef spoke. Sev didn’t look away. He wasn’t a coward and he was here for a job. He set his helmet in the chair next to him. He listened without interrupting as Peef listed his highlight reel.

Peef gave a signal then took a long drag on his caf. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a vibroknife. Even as Peef’s hand slipped from the table, Sev kept his hands on the table. The chances of him out shooting Peef Callo at this distance was non-existent, but that didn’t mean he had to show his understood defeat. If he were going to die, it’d be with a scowl on his face, not a whimper.

Seven’s next and possibly final words were, “Mind if I smoke?” he asked, nodding to the pack in his front breast pocket.

One last smoke before he died should be a simple request, but he’d heard Peef was known to be a dick when he was in a mood. Sev’s intent hadn’t been flattery as Peef seemed to think, but the Cipher wasn’t going to correct him. The proverbial “ice” he was standing on in this situation was as thin as one would expect on Tatooine. One wrong move and he was dead.

Despite his current predicament, Seven couldn’t deny the exhilaration coursing through his veins.

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

Preef almost laughed as he nodded his approval. He clearly hadn't expected Sev Garris to ask permission to smoke, rather that he had some kind of business proposition. It seemed that this particular human with his baby blue eyes operated with some kind of daredevil attitude. Shoot first, aim later. Just what the Rodian had been missing...

The bartender appeared next to Sev with a bottle of greenish see-through liquor and two glasses. "Hutta Moonshine for the gunslingers," he said as he put it down on the table. He clearly had a great respect for the elderly rodian, but like everyone else in the Zaa Fenn Crime Family, the was accustomed to the more finer things on his shelves. This particular bottle with its greenish color he didn't put on display. Nal Hutta's sewer-riped moonshine was a known favorite of Preef Callo and in times past the Zaa Fenn gunslingers identified themselves by ordering this as the cantina's where they came to collect the Chapakh, or tribute. It was a custom that was disappearing as Preef grew older, for the drink was only truly tasty to a rodian's palate to begin with.

Appreciative to the bartender and insensitive to the fact that it was still morning on the desert world, Preef poured from the bottle and filled the two small glasses with the green-ish liquor. "He thinks you're a gunslinger," the rodian said as he poured Sev's glass, referring to the words from the bartender, "Are you?"

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Peef nodded and Seven lit up a smoke. The bartender approached and set down a bottle containing a clear green liquid. During his pilgrimage across the desert to Mos Espa, he’d spotted a similar bottle at many a watering hole. Only now did it’s significance reveal itself. Superstition went hand in hand with the mythology of The Gunslinger. A single dark clad figure crossing the desert in search of something they’ll never obtain. A displaced vagabond with the eye of an eagle hidden under the shadow of a wide brimmed hat. A drunk in tattered clothing whose hand only steadies when it’s wrapped around the butt of a blaster.

The bottle set before them wasn’t just Hutta Moonshine, it was the potion all Gunslinger’s under Peef’s banner drank. It was the initiation. The Rodian poured them both a shot while asking Sev to clarify what he was. Garris blew out a plume of smoke, baby blues flicking from the shot being slid his way to The Rodian’s bulbous alien eyes.

“I know my way around a blaster,” he said, accepting the drink. Sev didn’t believe in naming himself a Gunslinger. That was an honor earned when people said it about you, not when you said it about yourself.

“I’m looking for one thing, sir.” he said, taking a pull on his cigarra, “The chance to join.”

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

The rodian took his glass and shot it back. The empty glass was turned upside down on the table as Preef Callo's eyes burned into the baby blue ones of the human in front of him. He had something familiar about him, but at the same time he appeared a rough-cut diamond. "Join what?" he asked, hoping to have found someone more like him than the other younglings. "The cartel, the Zaa Fenn or what they affectionally call the-" he paused mid-sentence as his communicator started chirping. As he pulled it from his pocket and held it up above the table the holographic image of a maglev train appeared with a red flashing text in aurabesh; stating "Under Attack".

"-Callo Gang. Because if so," he shoved the communicator across the table towards Sev, giving the human a better chance to read the words on what was clearly an automated distress call whenever one of the Tatooine desert trains were under attack. "-you better be ready to show me you got what it takes."

The old rodian lit up another systech-stim and took a long drag as he rose from his chair and nodded towards the exit. "That train holds a silicax shipment thats under our protection," he explained, referencing a deal he made a few years ago with an Ubbese businesswoman. "Mining Guild hired the Black Sun to disrupt their operations," a job they would never have dared to accept were Preef still in his prime, but alas the legendary gunslinger's reputation was dimishing with age and they picked the right moment to prove it. With most of his gang out collecting the cartel tributes, they knew it was only the old rodian that could ride out to stop them...

Truth was, Preef needed the kid to watch his back because even de former Crymorah boss wasn't sure he could still outdraw an entire Black Sun striketeam. "You and I are going to show how bad of an idea that is, so-" Preef started making his way to the door, "You coming?"

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

The Rodian threw back his shot. Sev tapped the table with the glass then threw back the poison. Jacen wasn’t born in the upper echelons of imperial society. He was raised in the muck and mire. He was taught how to survive by vagrants and small-time criminals. So, when the strong drink hit his tongue he savored it.

Seven eyed Peef just as The Rodain eyed him.

The Gunslinger’s inquiry was interrupted by an alert on his com. Sev’s eyes flicked to the holoimage and his brow quirked as he read “Under Attack'' in the pulsing red letters that flashed across the projection.

Peef examined the message then slid it over to Sev. Garris’s eyes flicked over the message as The Rodian presented him the opportunity he was looking for. A small smirk curled the corner of his lip as he slid the comm back to Peef.

The Rodain finished giving his rundown then stood making for the door. Sev threw back the rest of his Cognac, and returned his helmet to his head. He left the mouthpiece off, taking a puff on his cigarra as he followed behind Peef.

“Right behind you,” he called out as they passed through the doors of the bar.

They mounted a pair of speeder bikes and shot off toward their destination. Sev flicked his cigarra into the wind, replacing the mouthpiece of his helmet, and saving him from a mouthful of grit. Sooner rather than later a plume of black smoke could be seen on the horizon.

It was clear the attack was well underway. As they crested a dune the landscape of the battle unfurled before them. Blaster fire lit up the space between the two forces and the attackers had a clear advantage. The smell of burnt ozone was amplified by the heat of the desert as Sev came to a sliding stop.

Two speeder trucks with mini-guns peppered the train and it’s defenders while two fire squads pressed in. The train’s front repulsors had been blown and were the cause of the smoke that coated the battlefield. As of right now, it didn’t look like they’d been spotted. That was an advantage Sev didn’t wanna pass up.

He whipped his speeder around as the trucks finished an attack pass.

“You coming?” he asked Peef as he floored it, shooting back down the dune to circle around and catch the trucks unaware.

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

The old rodian actually quite enjoyed the ride. Sure, Tatooine's air was dry as hell and that meant he not only got scorching hot sand in his tunic and the air dried out his already aging face even further, but more importantly riding across the Dune Sea on a speeder always gave the old gunslinger a true sense of freedom. The only other thing that he wanted right now was a chance to test his speed and he hadn't quite thought of it of the black spirals of smoke became visible on the horizon.

Decades of being at the top of his game had given him the luxury not to think too much about battlefield tactics. PREEF CALLO simply walked up to whoever he was supposed to shoot and shot him. Simple and inevitable.

Seventy-year old rodian gunslinger Preef, however, wasn't all too sure anymore that beating every one of those Black Sun mercenaries on the draw was such an inevitable fact nowadays. So, when the young human suggested a loop-around to catch the trainrobbers unawares, the old rodian quickly -and gratefully- followed.

Preef sped up towards Sev and matched his speed, "mini-guns first," he shouted through the sound of blasterfire and a sudden explosion as someone had thrown a frag grenade to somewhere along the train. "You take the closest," Preef grinned, showing some of his legendary bravado as he suggested that even at seventy-two he could still outfight a young human in the prime of his life and would thus take the more difficult opponent. Ofcourse, suggesting they each took out a mini-gun was also a compliment and a test for the human to show the skillset he needed to survive such a task.

Suddenly prompting the engines to go at maximum capacity, Preef steered his speeder to the top of the dune and launched himself and his speeder into the air. Before anyone had seen it, his legendary peacemaker was suddenly in his hand and a bright green blaster bolt escaped it. Its target was one of the Black Sun mercenaries standing near the minigun on the farthest speeder van and true to his legend, the bolt didn't miss and hit the man perfectly on his heart.

"That's PREEF CALLO" someone shouted and both miniguns suddenly switched away from the train and towards the aging rodian on his speeder bike. Kriff. If this was a trap then it was well-executed..

As heavy lasers flew by, Preef pushed his speeder down into the sand and killed the engine. The bike created a small pile in the sand where it and the rodian crashed, but the latter thankfully managed to jump off right in time to use both the bike and the pile as cover. Karking Suns! At least this was something of a distraction, right?

Taking a deep breath, Preef waited two seconds and the engaged his jetboots to fly upwards and through the black smoke. Blaster fire following him in, but where the Black Suns no doubt expected a dead rodian to fall from the sky, they instead saw green bolts of plasma escape and pierce their way through the gunner of one of the speeder vans. Moments later Preef walked out of the smoke, standing on the train itself with his blaster aimed at the van.

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Seven couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face as Peef called out orders. The Cipher peeled off as The Rodian hit the gas. The bat– massacre, was well underway and The Blacksun weren’t fucking around. They had numbers and it was clear they were looking to give the Callo gang a black eye.

Peef shot into the air and in that moment he was transformed. No longer the aged dusty outlaw in a saloon, but Peef fucking Callo in the flesh. Seven’s grin turned into a sneer.

Can’t let old bones show me up, he thought. Instead of going for the grand entry as Peef’s new sidekick, Seven crested the dune and then shot down it. While the attention of the Sun’s was on Peef’s glorious display, Sev came at them like a man possessed.

As Peef’s neon green bolt dropped the gunner on the furthest mini-gun, Sev banked his speeder, killing the power, and letting the broad side of the speeder careen toward the fire squad that was standing dumbfounded in front of his target. Sevens stepped off the bike smoothly as it collided with the squad.

The squawks and squeals of surprise pain added their cacophony to the battle. Sev’s main weapon was in his hand. He thumbed back the hammer, engaging the weapon’s high-power setting as he raised and fired.

The gunner of the nearest mini-gun dropped like discarded trash. Seven’s side was clear as he stepped up to the mounted weapon. Peef’s glorious arrival had captured the attention of the Sun completely and now, they’d pay for it.

Sev took aim at the nearest van and squeezed the trigger. Heavy laser fire turned the speeder into a burnt out shell in a matter of seconds. The sickly sweet smell of cooked meat intermingled with the smell of burnt ozone as Seven continued to wreak havoc across their back line.

The proficiency of Black Sun’s initial attack was scattered to the wind. Chaos swept across the battlefield like the searing desert wind as Peef and Sev beset the attackers with rueful vengeance.

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

THEME​

A blaster bolt wizzed by his head as Preef ducked, swirled and fired a bolt of his own. The green plasma tore through the duraplast armor of the Black Sun mercenary and yet before the rodian could see to confirm his kill he had engaged his jetboots. The mercenaries were redirecting their fire, their positioning and their priorities as Sev Garris took out one of their two heavy-hitting mobile turrets, but against the legendary flying rodian there was little they could do.

Green plasma was shot in intervals, each bolt hitting a different mark as the rodian dashed across the battlefield at max speed. "GET HIIM!" someone shouted, sweat dripping from his forehead as realization began to dawn that his situation was dire at best. He was searching, looking around, trying to find the rodian as he soared from one side to the other, but it seemed he was gone.. kriff.

A sudden jolt of pain in his knees, first the left and then the right, and he fell to his side in the hot Tatooine sands. "Ah!" he cried, "You!" the aging gunslinger's jetboot landed in the sand just before his face and as he turned himself to face the sky he could see the old rodian smiling down at him.

"Xar never does learn, does he?" Preef sighed, referencing that time the Black Sun had tried to take Kessel from the Pyke Syndicate, and then fired another green bolt of plasma through the man's face.

No doubt the young Sev Garris had killed his own fair share of mercenaries by now and already some of them were trying to flee, turning around their speeders to head into (and hopefully through) the Dune Sea. Cartel scoundrels now emerged from the train, taking potshots at the fleeing mercenaries and cheering in the old rodian's name.

Preef holstered his blaster and walked out of frame, hiding himself for just a moment from the young arrogant gunslinger that had accompanied him. When he came back into Sev's view he had already lit a new systech stim that was dangling from his dried lips. "Not bad, mister Garris. Not bad at all," he managed a grin, but even Sev would be able to notice that his walk over to him was devoid of energy and the old man seemed exhausted.

"Mining Guils have an office close to the spaceport in Mos Eisley," which was a rather long journey by speeder from both Mos Espa and their current location, "Which just happens to be the destination of this train. Let's pay them a visit, shall we?"

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

The heavy lasers being spit from the mounted gun ripped through Black Sun’s back line at the same time Peef’s precision shots raked across the front. The pincer attack was executed nearly perfectly. The maw of the heavy laser smoked as Sev let go of the trigger. The Black Sun were done. He could just make out The Rodian talking shit as he got off the mounted gun.

The sunbaked desert sand cracked under his boots as he made his way to The Rodian. Peef already had a stim in his mouth and Jacen couldn’t help following suit. He lit up a cigarra and bobbed his head to Peef’s praise, “Right back atcha.”

Seven didn’t miss the faint signs of exhaustion, he was also smart enough not to comment on them.

Sev blew out a plume of smoke glancing over to Peef’s wrecked speeder. One of the van’s was still operable, but it was shot to shit. He scoffed, “Sounds good. Can we take that,” he said nodding in the van’s direction, “I’d rather not ride bitch,” he said with a smirk.

A little while later…

The speeder van bobbed along the undulating sands of Tatooine as they made their way to Mos Eisley. Sev sat in the driver seat, helmet off and cigarra hanging from his lip as they rode across the Dune sea.

“How often does Black Sun show it’s ass like this?” Jacen asked, genuinely curious. For the most part he’d assumed that the Black Sun had drifted off into obscurity, but this attack spoke to the contrary.

“If they’ve got a strong hold here on planet, I can take’em,” he said, eyes looking out the blaster-scored window rather than at Peef. Confidence wasn’t something Jacen lacked. He couldn’t explain it, but in his gut he knew he could do what he said and based on his record he didn’t have any reason to doubt that.

 

[Preef Callo]

Preef shook his head, "Not for years." It was the simple reply to the question. The more complex one would involve explaining to an outsider all the event from the First Battle of Kessel all the way to the Fourth. How they lost face and standing after failing to take Kessel from the Pyke syndicate, their subsequent partnership with certain Sith factions involved with the massacre on Coruscant and a decade-long silence as Crymorah lead the Five Syndicates, the ISC-Syndicates war and the 'Return of the Cartel' as the underworld rulers. Lately however, no doubt fueled by rumors of Preef's waning skill in his old age, did they start to beat their chest again.

"Let's deal with the guild first," the old rodian shook his head, "the cartel cares more about the credits than the strawmen that get hired." and who knew, local Black Sun enforcers could turn out to become rather useful. Hand them enough credits and you'd open a door to the Falleen Council for you and your blaster to walk through.

Plus, let's be fair. Preef now knew that the young human could stand his own in a blasterfight. Nothing pointed so far to the kid not being a powerhungry upstart that would take that stronghold for himself and challenge the cartel rule over Tatooine, or even worse, defy the Zaa Fenn as the cartel's foremost planetside enforcers. He had allowed one-time mercs to get too close once before and had even admitted Aska Ryun into his 'Legends'. A mistake that cost the Crymorah Syndicate dearly.

Two hours later the pair of gunslingers entered the office of the Miner's Guild Tatooine Branch on Mos Eisley. A secretary motioned for them to take a seat while she landed her fingers on the touchpad on her desk, but the old rodian didn't seem too inclined to wait. He wasn't smoking a systech stim and seemed irritable, "We don't wait," Preef warned her, his hand casually resting on his signature peacemaker as he suddenly turned and motioned for Sev Garris to enter first. "You familiar with quick-draw diplomacy, mr Garris?"

Inside the actual office a rather corpulent Zabrak was clearly in a foul mood, displayed by the opened bottle of brandy on the table and the fearful young assistent cowering in a corner, trying to pick up the dozen or so shards of glass. Liquid stained the wall above the assistent and it seemed obvious that the Zabrak had just tossed a full glass of brandy against the wall out of anger. When he spotted Sev entering the room, traces of sand on his tunic, the Zabrak turned his anger to the young human immediately; "You people told me it was EASY!," he barked, "You said PREEF CALLO was nothing but a has-been!"

It wasn't until after he said it that he noticed the old rodian entering his office after the human. A sly grin answering the sudden look of shock and despair.


@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Peef made a good point, but that didn’t mean Sev had to like it.

Rather than show his ass he replied with,“Understood.”

Seven was getting a first hand account of Cartel dealings on Tatooine and he was getting it from The Rodain who wrote the book on it. Rather than push the idea, The Cipher sat back and ran their encounter over in his mind. Peef’s performance had solidified two things in Seven’s mind. The Rodian wasn’t as good as he once was, but he was good, once, as he ever was.

Seven could feel a modicum of respect forming for the guy, but that didn’t change his mission.

A couple hours later they were striding through the front door of the Mining Guild’s Tatooine branch. Peef set the tone, and Sev let the emotionless expression stamped into his helmet do his talking.

“Intimately,” replied Sev as he stepped into the room just ahead of Peef. A grin as wry as whisky spread across his face as the scene before them played out. A Zabrak, who was apparently attempting to emulate the rotund figure of a Hutt, whirled on him and promptly dug his own grave.

Sev drew his blaster and the Zabrak stopped talking. His brow furrowed in confusion before revelation began to stampede across his face. The secretary, who’d been silent this whole time, whimpered while pushing herself as far into the corner of the room as she could. Fear froze her expression.

The Rodian stepped out from behind Sev and the revelation in the Zabrak’s face contorted into fear. “Wha— How— Bu—!?” was all the horned hutt wannabe could manage.

Seven let out a low whistle, “This isn’t a good look for you.”

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

Preef motioned for the secretary to scram once he had entered the office and she didn't need to be told twice. While it was difficult for her to overcome her fear and move towards the two blaster-brandishing men, it was definitely to her credit that she did overcome it and left the office promptly. "My associate is right, Foreman Andit," the old rodian took the bottle of brandy from the desk and sat down in the chair opposite the Zabrak.

"Truth be told," the rodian shook his head before taking a swig from the bottle and allowed himself to relax and lean back in the chair, "I am curious who convinced you that the Black Sun," he couldn't stifle a mocking laugh as he referenced the other syndicate, "Could accomplish anything on this planet? After all," the rodian grinned and he pointed the bottle towards the ceiling, "we already have the two suns."

The corpulent Zabrak continued to sweat profusely as his eyes darted from the tip of Sev's blaster to the rodian, and then back to the blaster, and then back to the rodian so often that he now also felt a bit light-headed. "Y-you undercut us by giving those mining rights to the Ubbese," the Zabrak surprised himself by explaining it truthfully, "Our margins, I-" he wiped some sweat from his brow with his sleeve, "-had to protect them."

It made sense, ofcourse. Preef had negotiated a partnership with an Ubbese company with terms that the Mining Guild could never beat. For the right to mine a certain type of ore, the Ubbese had agreed to extortionist prices for the transport, protection and labor fees of all their mining rigs. Quite frankly it made the local cartel Diamyo extremely wealthy and he didn't care about the Mining Guild losing business because they didn't want to handover 110% of their profit margins. That they'd be unhappy was a given, but why did they think the Black Sun could solve their problem?

"That's not what I asked," Preef motioned for Sev to come into action, "Why don't we help you focus a bit?" he smiled and took another swig from the bottle.

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Seven’s cold emotionless gaze mirrored the blank expression on his face mask. He hated this part of any job. The part where bravado gave way to blubbering. The Zabrak was doing better than some he’d seen in the past, but not much and by the shift in his gaze, Sev guessed he wouldn’t last much longer.

As if on que, the jowls of the horned moron began to spill their secrets like a bag slit up the seam. Peef wasn’t a fool. The Old Rodian had asked a very specific question and it was clear Foreman Andit didn’t understand the question.

“I-It’s as I’ve s-s-said—” Sev cocked back the hammer of his blaster. The high-pitched whir of the weapons heavy blaster setting rent a satisfying flinch from the mass of fat and horns.

“I see the confusion,” Sev stepped closer, “You see you’re answering the wrong question…” Andit pressed himself into his chair as if trying to get as far away from Seven as he physically could without leaving his position.

The Gunslinger moved around to the man’s back and pressed the muzzle of his blaster to the side of the foreman’s head. In a voice that sounded like heavy boots crunching gravel Seven asked, “Why did you think The Black Sun stood a chance?”

Foreman Andit shook like a speeder with a dust clogged repulsor. His voice was a mess of quivering stammers as he fought for each syllable to fall from his disgusting maw. For all his size, The Zabrak suddenly seemed very small. Life and death had a way of doing that to you. It took things that were larger than life and put them into their correct perspective.

“B-because, well—” Andit cleared his voice, “It’s clear th-that,” his head lulled and rocked as if it was revolting from spewing what everyone in the room could guess. “T-they promised, higher margins an-an-an- said, you–” his chest heaved, “They said you were old. That Peef Callo wasn’t to be feared anymore.”

A sneer spread across Seven’s lips under his mask.

“Huh, now, that’s just rude,” remarked Sev.

@Eccles

 

[Preef Callo]

He was old, sure. He had killed countless scoundrels in the Outer Rim. There was no point arguing the opposite. When he was a young man -barely in his teens- the one good person in his life had been violently murdered and debased for trying to do good in the Outer Rim. It had forced a young Preef Callo into a path of armed robbery and murder. A path he had managed to leave behind while he existed in secret on the forest-world of Takodana for almost two decades. One he was thrust back into when he met a disgraced and weakened Gareth and starting working for the cartel.

That was over twenty years ago. Preef had lived the lifetime that was triple as long as regular quick-draw artists. He was old. He had seen and experienced it all. And in all those years, through personal battles with powerful Force users, both invading worlds and protecting them from invasions and taking over an entire galaxy-spanning syndicate, he had only rarely been as pissed off as he was right now.

Mr Garris had barely finished remarking the rudeness of the Zabrak's answer when a green plasma bolt burned its way into the fat man's chest and killed him on impact.

"They said," the old rodian repeated and then holstered his pistol, signalling to Mr Garris that it was time to leave, "then They will all die tonight."

Their compound was relatively closeby, just on the outskirts of Mos Eisley, and they'd probably be on high alert now that they didn't see the maglev train arrive under the armed guard of their own mercenaries. Was it a foolish thing to try and massacre the local Black Suns by his own aged old self with just a young upstart gunslinger as back-up? Kriff. He actually felt like the PREEF they made up all those legends about.

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Peef’s blaster bolts punctuated Sev’s observation. A grin on Seven’s face was nearly ear to ear. It was exactly what he’d have done. This mission was going to be harder than he thought. The temptation of freedom was starting to rear its beautiful face and Seven wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to resist her. Even more alarming was his dwindling desire to resist.

The fleeting moment of weakness was extinguished by The Rodian’s ire. Sev holstered his weapon right behind Peef. A sneer settled on his lips as they left the corpulent Zabrak where he’d settled in. The foyer was silent except for their footfalls as they made their way out of the building.

The blazing twin suns were warring for prominence in the cloudless sky as they marched toward a cluster of buildings on the outskirts of town. The closer they got the more the locals took notice. Whispers were traded blatantly along the side of the road. The denizens in the area gave them a wide berth as they closed in on a menacing curved earthen structure.

They arrived at the front of the building. A fortified wall about two meters high ran the perimeter and the entrance was what appeared to be a durasteel blastdoor. Honestly, it felt a bit excessive, but if you were gonna run around on Tatooine talking shit about Peef Callo, then it made a lot more sense.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey lizard’s fuck buddy. If it isn’t The Rodian in the flesh. I thought you were dead.”

The voice echoed off the surrounding buildings, it’s reverberation making it tough to spot where it originated from. It’d be a cute trick if it wasn’t so played out. Jacen’s baby blue started looking for anything out of the ordinary. They were being watched.

“Now, what would the legendary gunslinger Peef Callo require from the likes of us?”

There was something in the mysterious voice’s tone that set Jacen’s hair standing on end. This was a distraction.

“Move!” barked Sev just before two sentries burst over the top of the fortified walls and unleashed hell on The Rodian and The Cipher.

@Eccles