Ask Nar Shaddaa Unlawful Appropriation

[Gatz Derrevar]

Nar Shaddaa, was far from a beautiful place. With its ancient refueling pylons, mile high decadent cities, foul smelling air, and generally scummy population, the Smuggler's Moon was basically the arm pit of the galaxy. It was a place where crime ruled, brutality went without punishment, and where the five-finger discount applied just about everywhere. Civilized people didn't come here, if they were smart.

Gatz Derrevar loved this moon.

Maybe not the smell, or the getting stuck up all the time, or how the cantinas got shot up every other night, but he loved the freedom. There was no Republic to saddle laws down on him. No FWA to tie him in its regulations. No Sith to... do evil Sith-y things. All he had to do here was keep an eye out for stray blaster shots, and make sure he wasn't stepping on the Hutts' toes. Err tails.

Guess what he was about to do?

Benji, a Weequay... associate of his, had another job for him. One that required a little more than just dodging port officials and trade embargos. Yebbet, a minor Hutt crime lord, had somehow procured a small shipment of kyber crystals. Benji wanted them. For what? Gatz didn't ask. He'd learned, through the few times he'd encountered the Weequay, that it wasn't smart to question him or to cheat him. People who did those things typically ended up dead.

From the corner of The Long March's cockpit, R4, Gatz's aging astromech, beeped at him. It seemed they'd finally received clearance to land in the Red Light District.

"Bring us in for a landing, Arfour. I'm gonna go check on our guest, make sure she's kept her hands to herself."

In a wild deviation of the usual jobs Benji had for him, the Coruscanti crime boss wanted him to work with someone else. An Echani woman, beautiful in a mesmerizing way, whose name he hadn't gotten. He only knew her by "Noir Cat." She was a burglar of some kind, but beyond that, Gatz knew nothing about her. Yet he'd had to invite her onto his ship, with his stuff. He expected a few things to go missing.

Gatz got up from the pilot's seat, and sauntered his way down the long hallway into the cargo bay.

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

The Hutt Ball Tournament had brought Felicia Harlow to Nar Shaddaa, the temptation to steal from a drunken, incapacitated gambler an urge too strong to ignore. Felicia never could resist an easy mark, but it was a job offer from a suspect Weequay that kept her on the backwater planet. Benji was the name he had given her when the ugly, long haired fellow had first made contact. Maybe it was his real name, maybe it wasn't. She wasn't even sure if he was working for himself or a local Hutt or crime syndicate—his kind usually did, as bodyguards or bounty hunters. Felicia didn't care if he worked for the Dark Empress herself, so long as he paid up when the job was done.

The leathery skinned Weequay had provided her with only the details necessary to get the job done. The Red Light Disctrict. Yebbet, a minor crime lord with a shipment of kyber crystals—crystals that Benji wanted to get his hands on. This was the way of the galaxy, whether the politicians and the rangers wanted to admit it or not. Everyone wanted something that someone else had, and a handful were brave enough to take what they wanted no matter the risks or the rules they'd be forced to break aong the way. Some craved wealth, love, recognition, or—in this case—a shipment of kyber crystals. Felicia couldn't fault the Weequay's taste—she, too, liked shiny things. Not to mention kyber crystals were rare these days. They'd fetch a pretty price.

Felicia knew even less about the partner Benji had assigned her, only that Benji called him "one of the best smugglers I know." Just how many did he know, the Echani wondered? The Noir Cat usually worked alone, but for the right price, she would always make exceptions. If this smuggler really was as good as Benji said he was, it would only make her job that much easier. No complaints there.

Seated comfortably atop a box, her back against the cold durasteel of the light freghter, Felicia scrolled through Switter until the smuggler appeared in the doorway of the cargo hold. Then she slipped her phone away, standing up and stretching out the kinks in her shoulders.

"We've arrived?"

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

So it seemed his partner hadn't stuck her fingers where they didn't belong. That was good.

Gatz looked up at the Echani woman, who sat in leisure on a box that he would have found uncomfortable. In an odd way, she actually did remind him of a cat. All lithe and grace, with a mischievous streak. Well, he didn't really know if she was all that mischievous, but she was a thief, so... Gatz figured the description fit.

"Yeah," Gatz grabbed his red leather jacket off a nearby crate, and slung it on, "Arfour is bringing us down now. It should just be a short jaunt from the landing pad, to the cantina where our contact should be."

Benji had someone on the inside; someone who was close enough to Yebbet to know all the necessary details about the shipment they coveted. Where it was at, how well it was guarded, and things like that. Benji had provided them with the basic information on the job, and even had drafted a few plans for the heist, but ultimately it was this contact who would give them the specifics. Once they'd talked to him, then they could decide on how to burglarize the kyber crystals.

"In the meantime, let's see what our jackass of an employer provided for us."

Gatz moved to a crate, one that had been provided by Benji. He opened it, and for the first time, perused its contents. It seemed that their employer had spared no expense when it came to supplying them for this mission: they had everything from high-grade explosives (which made Gatz nervous, considering they were on his ship), to medpacs, to armor. Blasters too. There were even two skimpy slave outfits at the bottom, which baffled the smuggler.

He pulled the offending items out: both were made of metal. One had nothing more than a cod piece, which was clearly meant for him. The second resembled a bikini, which he assumed was meant for Noir Cat. Now that he thought about it, he did remember one of Benji's various heist plans involving the two of them posing as dancers.

"Damn. Benji must be paying you a lot, if he thinks you'd seriously consider wearing this," he tossed his own skimpy slave outfit back into the crate, "more than he's paying me."

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

"This?" Felicia tittered, tugging the second outfit from the shipping container and holding it up to examine. Silver eyes scanned the metal bikini, lit with an inner glow of mischief. "Surely this is meant for you, no?" She held the outfit up to the smuggler and cocked her head to one side, as if giving it serious consideration. Eventually a wide grin spread across her lips. "Oh, yes. Definitely. It really compliments your eyes."

Then, bristling, she flung the bikini back into the crate where it belonged—next to the blasters. Both eyesores she had no intention of using. Benji must have had some nerve, but his kind always did. "Not enough," she replied seriously, in response to the smuggler's statement. Felicia had no intention of playing the role of some Hutt's latest plaything, not even for an evening.

Picking up a high-grade explosive from the crate, she spun it around in her hands. Impressive. At least their employer had sent them something useful. "Nice to know Benji isn't hurting for credits."

Storing the high-grade explosive on her person, she checked the time. Right on schedule. Good to know her partner was prompt. "We better get going. Don't want to keep our contact waiting."

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Gatz found himself a little surprised at the thief's playful jokes. He'd expected her to be insulted, that Benji would ask her to wear something like that, and to do it for a Hutt. It was demeaning, or at least, he thought Noir would see it that way. He wouldn't be happy if someone dismissed all of his skills, and asked him to give a slug a lap dance.

"What can I say? I look good in everything, even metal bikinis."

Then the Echani threw the offending item back into the crate, rather harshly. So, maybe she was insulted.

"Well, if you don't care for yours, you could always try mine on," Gatz grabbed the metal codpiece meant for him, and tossed it at her with a smirk, "it's a lot less restrictive on the chest. It could be our little secret."

The smuggler walked away from his partner, still grinning, and made his way to the loading ramp. With a press of a button on the console on the wall, the airlock disengaged with a hiss of air, and the ramp began to lower. Gatz leaned up against the wall as he waited for Noir to dig through the crate, and was a little alarmed to see her stash an explosive on her person.

"You're right. Let's go find that cantina. I could use a drink."

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

Felicia caught the outfit the smuggler threw her way, although she considered letting it fall to the floor of the cargo bay instead. Turning the metal over in her hands, a heavy, exaggerated sigh escaped her lips. "And here I thought you were nothing like our leathery employer."

Without so much as a second thought, the Echani cast the outfit over her shoulder. The codpiece would strike the side of the ship, clattering to the floor where it would stay. Felicia followed the smuggler from the cargo bay, descending the boarding ramp.

The Red Light District, a lawless wasteland patrolled only by the Hutt Cartel's security—like that did any good. One honest face was followed by five and thirty swindlers. Honest people didn't come to the Smuggler's Moon, much less step foot in the Red Light District. Not if they were smart and wanted to live to see another sunrise, and the sun never did rise in Nar Shaddaa. Not really. Felicia was as dishonest as they came, and even she avoided the Red Light Sector.

Their contact—a nice word for stool pigeon—would be waiting for them in the cantina down the street, presuming he showed. The Wookie's Bookie was crowded, the faces of patron's obscured by cigarra smoke and poor lighting. Neon signs hung around the cantina, barely flickering to life. Above the bar, four or five monitors broadcast live pod racing. Several faces turned from the bar, staring at Felicia and the smuggler as they entered the cantina.

Felicia never made eye contact, sauntering through the crowd until she spotted their contact, a lone Twi'lek sitting in a corner booth at the far end of the cantina. "There he is," she muttered to the smuggler, leading the way.

"Hello there, lovely," the Twi'lek smirked as Felicia slid into the booth across from him, leaning forward in his seat. "Buy you a drink?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied. The Twi'lek glanced up at the smuggler, the excitement etched across his face deflating almost immediately. Putting two and two together, his smile faded. "About time you two showed up," he grumbled. "Yebbet wouldn't be happy to know I'm here."

"That's your problem, isn't it?"

His eyes narrowed at Felicia. "Let's just get down to business, shall we?"

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

"Believe me, I'm nothing like Benji. He isn't the kind of man you ever want to meet."

Gatz didn't elaborate further. He didn't like to talk about the day that he'd met Benji, when he'd watched the Weequay stab a Trandoshan in the neck, simply for hiding a sabaac card up his sleeve. The Coruscanti crime lord wasn't a stable individual, and Gatz didn't enjoy working for him. But the alien had his number now, and had grown fond of him.

Gatz didn't think Benji would take kindly to him refusing work.

"But for the record, I didn't like that plan either: there's only one place a man can hide a blaster in a getup like that," Gatz smirked, "I just thought you'd look good in a metal bikini. Can't blame a scoundrel for trying."

He let Noir lead the way to the cantina, staying behind her, and scanning their surroundings nonchalantly. As much as Gatz liked Nar Shaddaa, it wasn't the kind of place where you could relax and let down your guard. That was how you got robbed, or stabbed, or stabbed then robbed. And he wasn't in the mood for any of that.

They entered the cantina together, pressing past bodies to get to their destination: a small booth where a Twi'lek man sat, waiting for them. He let Noir slide into the booth first, because he was a gentleman, and then slid in next to her, kicking his boots up on the table.

"If you're buying drinks, I'll take one. I may not be as pretty as she is," Gatz gestured his head in the Echani's direction, "but flattery works a lot better on me."

The Twi'lek just glared at him, before turning back to his partner. Guess he was buying his own drink then. He let Noir and their contact grumble at each other for a moment, while he flagged down a Zabrak woman with a wave and a wink. She sauntered over to him, with a datapad in her hand.

"What's your poison?" She asked.

"I'll take a Noonian Fixer," he replied, before turning back to the other two in the booth, "anyone else want something? If we're gonna talk business, we may as well do it over a few drinks."

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

Felicia tilted her head toward the smuggler, her eyes never straying from the Twi'lek seated across the booth from them. In a low voice, intentionally still within earshot of their green friend, she crooned, "Not very friendly, is he?"

The Twi'lek said nothing, but the burning contempt in his purple eyes said enough, the glass he'd been nursing nearly shattering within his hands. He's nervous, Felicia observed, eyes roaming over his posture. As nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. On edge. Scared. At any moment, Hutt Cartel Security could come waltzing through those doors, and if they recognized him, it was game over. The Hutt Cartel owned this district. They owned him.

"I buy my own drinks, space baby," he said with contempt for the smuggler.

Well, at least the cartels paid him well. Felicia also declined, dismissing the offer with a wave of her hand. "No, thanks."

Despite her flippant attitude towards life and people, the Noir Cat had—for lack of a better term—a code of conduct she followed whenever she was on the job. For one thing, she never drank. Not on a job. It only took one mistake, one slip—one lapse in judgement for her entire world to fall to pieces. Wanton kittens make sober cats, her father had always said.

"Benji never said anything about you two being a couple of nerve burners."

As soon as the waitress was gone, the Noir Cat leaned forward in her seat, drumming her fingernails against the table. "Let's quit pussyfooting around. Benji said you were a smart man. I'd hate to be disappointed."

The Twi'lek swallowed, eyes darting from one end of the cantina to the other. "Alright, but remember the deal... you didn't hear it from me." From the pockets of his stained yellow flight jacket, he pulled a slip of paper. Pushing it across the table with two fingers, he continued, "Here's the address. The shipment arrives around midnight. Unless you're posing as dancers, it's better if no one sees you. Security will be heavy, all the way to the vault."

Felicia's eyes sparkled, slipping the address out from under his hand and tucking it into her suit.

"And there's one more thing—"

But the Twi'lek never finished that sentence, three Hutt Cartel thugs striding into the cantina.

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

"See, don't you prefer me to him?" Gatz leaned into his partner.

This contact of theirs was kind of an asshole. Gatz could understand being stressed, after all, the man was literally gambling with his life. Even so, that was no reason to be pissed off with them. If the Twi'lek had asked nicely, the young smuggler might have even offered to get him off world. Away from the Hutts, and drop him off somewhere the slugs didn't have reach.

His drink arrived, and Gatz picked it up and took a swig. Strong. Just the way he liked it. Even so, he was only going to allow himself to sip at it. He was, after all, on the clock. A buzz wouldn't affect him too much, but if he got a little too tipsy it would affect his aim. That, and his ability to pilot his ship, which was basically half his job as a smuggler.

Noir practically dragged the information they needed out of the man. Gatz had to admire her work ethic: she was efficient and professional, if nothing else. He'd expected a sly cat who stuck her fingers where they didn't belong. So far, it seemed to him that this particular cat knew how to keep her eye on the prize. He appreciated that.

He was still going to keep his creds close, just in case.

Noir had almost finished their work, when Gatz noticed three goons walking in the door. That figured. He'd known that the Hutts had to be onto them, but still didn't think they'd show their hand now. Well, Noir had gotten them the information, while he sat around and did nothing. Gatz figured it was his turn to be useful.

"Well gorgeous, looks like we've got company," Gatz took a sip of his Noonian Fixer, and winked at the cat burglar, "I'm gonna make a commotion. Get this douche out of here."

With that, Gatz stood to his feet with his drink in hand. He took a step forward and stumbled, purposely. He'd barely had a few sips of this drink, but no one else knew that. And he was pretty good at coming off as a passable drunk. So he teetered and tottered his way through the crowd, until he intentionally bumped into the Trandoshan leading the Hutt's goons. His drink "accidentally" spilled all over the lizard's chest.

"Ah shit, my baaaad," Gatz shrugged and stumbled back a few steps, "I dint even see youuuuu."

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

"Naturally," Felicia concurred, but not without adding a kittenish, "But that's not saying much." This Twi'lek had nothing to offer in the way of competition for the (apparently) coveted title of most amiable companion at the corner booth.

The three Hutt Cartel enforcers strode into the cantina like they owned the place, possibly because their employer did. Hutts had their greedy little hands into everything on Nar Shaddaa, either through dividends or good old-fashioned protection rackets. Spotting them, the Twi'lek retreated into the farthest recess of the booth. "They can't—you can't let them find me," he whispered, voice hoarse.

Now that the Twi'lek had fulfilled his purpose and provided the pair with the information they needed, there was no real reason to stick around. In fact, there was no reason to bother with his sorry exhaust port at all. Were the roles reversed, Felicia was confident that he would have scurried for the nearest exit and left them to deal with the Hutt Cartel by themselves.

Speaking of exits, their nearest escape was the back door directly behind their booth. Felicia had spotted it before she'd even sat down. Another rule she followed: never get comfortable without an exit strategy. The smuggler was keen to save the day, so Felicia decided to play along.

Rolling her eyes, she drug the Twi'lek from his seat by the collar of his yellow flight jacket. "Come on, pigeon. It's your lucky day." Hand firmly in place around his collar, the Echani pulled him toward the back door of the cantina, past five or six men sitting around a table playing pazaak.

"Outside." With the heel of her boot, she opened the door and abruptly shoved him through the threshold. Too panicked to protest, the Twi'lek stumbled into the alleyway behind the cantina.

Like every self-respecting cat, Felicia had a flair for the dramatic. With one hand she held open the back door, and with the other she pulled a grenade from her suit. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat himself, she tossed the grenade before ducking into the alleyway. The grenade would roll to a stop on the other side of the pazaak table, the entire cantina cloaked in a heavy gray smoke within a matter of seconds.

"Not this again," the bartender moaned from somewhere in the vapor. "This is the fourth time this week!"

It was just another day on Nar Shaddaa.

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

His drink having been spilled all over the trandoshan goon, Gatz found himself with an empty glass, and an angry lizard. He was grabbed by the collar of his jacket, and slammed down into the nearest table. Drinks clattered around his head, but miraculously, nothing spilled. Though, he was going to have a new kink in his back.

"<Back alley scum!>" The trandoshan hissed at him in Huttese, "<Watch where you're going!>"

Out of the corner of his eye, Gatz saw Noir leading the green douchebag out of the building. Good. He only needed to keep these enforcers occupied for a few more moments, and then both of them would make a clean getaway.

"Now, I saaaaaid that was my baaaaad," Gatz slurred, "why dun I buy you a drin-"

There was a hissing sound, and smoke filled the air of the cantina. The Trandoshan let him go, more concerned with what was happening near the pazaak table. Gatz looked around the bar, as smoke began to obscure his vision. He didn't see his partner or the twi'lek. Good, his job was done here.

Gatz stood back up, and straightened his collar. Then, deftly maneuvering past the goons that were trying to tear the place apart in the smoke, the young smuggler walked right out the front door. He didn't know where Noir was, but she'd turn up. So, he made his way back to the landing pad, mulling over what the green alien had said about their heist.

A warehouse, heavily guarded, all the way to the vault, huh? Gatz hated to agree with the douchebag, but it seemed like it was better if they weren't seen. Or, if they at least looked the part of entertainers. This wasn't Gatz's first rodeo: he'd been in many a warehouse on Nar Shaddaa. The Foreman was usually in good with the crime boss in question, and enjoyed many amenities. Often, their office was less a place of business, and more a place of pleasure and gambling.

Noir was going to tear him open with her claws, but he knew which of Benji's various plans would suit them best.

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

Outside of the Wookie's Bookie, Felica wrapped one arm around the waist of the Twi'lek and held him in place. "Don't get any ideas," she hissed, revealing a grappling hook in her other hand. Jerking her head toward the cantina, she continued, "Otherwise I'll let your friends in there have you." The Echani cast the grappling hook, and the pair disappeared into the night.

Later, after she had deposited the Twi'lek off four or five blocks away from the cantina, Felica would trace her steps back to the landing pad where the smuggler's light freighter stood ready and waiting for a quick getaway. Hopefully, with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of skill, a quick getaway wouldn't be necessary.

"There you are," Felicia's voice came out of the darkness, her graceful form dropping down behind the fair haired smuggler. Rising to her full height, the Echani brushed a silver ponytail back behind her shoulder, offering her companion an assertive smile as she did so. "I didn't know if you'd make it out of there or not."

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

A dull pulse in the back of his head. A tingle down his spine.

Gatz craned his neck in Noir's direction, before she'd even landed. He didn't know how he knew where she'd land- no, no that was a lie. He knew exactly what alerted him, what connected him to his surroundings, and to her. He couldn't pretend to ignore it anymore. For better or worse, meeting Emilia had made him remember things he hadn't cared to remember, and reconnect to something he hadn't realized he'd missed.

"I've dealt with worse," Gatz said simply, and for once, there was no charm, no swagger, and nothing boastful in his tone, "is the douchebag alright?"

They had crystals to steal, but Gatz wanted to accomplish it with as little bloodshed as possible. It didn't matter who got in their way. Didn't matter if it was a jerk of an informant, or a bunch of violent goons, or even Yebbet himself: Gatz Derrevar abhorred the loss of life. Especially when he could do something to prevent it.

He made for a poor smuggler, really. Gatz wasn't sure how he'd made it this far.

"You're really not gonna like me," Gatz finally allowed himself to smile, which wasn't very hard around Noir, "but I've been thinking about what our green friend had to say. Heavily guarded warehouse, all the way to the vault? That we don't have a layout for? I think Benji had the right idea with the dancer outfits."

Which meant that he was going in unarmed. That bothered Gatz, immensely. Sure, he didn't want to kill anyone, but he liked being able to defend himself.

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

"I'm not sure if alright is the word I would use," she whimpered with mirth, crossing her arms as she walked toward the smuggler. "But he's alive, as far as I know."

The Twi'lek had insisted that Felicia drop him off at the apartment of some ex-girlfriend whose name she didn't care to remember, where he could lie low for a few days and figure out if the Hutt Cartel was on to him. Felicia had agreed, happy to be rid of him, and left the jilted lover alone in the alleyway behind the apartment building, calling up to his ex and begging for entry, all while dodging the pots and pans she threw his way. Love is a many-splendored thing.

Now only a few feet away from the smuggler, the Echani came to a stop and stared at him, allowing his words to sink in before she replied. One perfectly groomed eyebrow quirked up, her arms still crossed, and it would be impossible for Gatz to decipher if the expression on her face was one of amusement, irritation, or a bewildering mixture of both.

"Nice try, flyboy," she would eventually say, a small cackle in her voice. "I'll give you this—you're persistent, which I can appreciate, but I'm not putting a metal bikini on to be paraded around in front of some fat Hutt."

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

God dammit, why did all women give him that look? That one that somehow looked like multiple emotions were displaying themselves on her face at the same time. Everytime Gatz tried to decipher that look on a woman's face, he ended up being wrong, and then regretted his life for the rest of the night. The worst part was, this time, he didn't even deserve it! He wasn't thrilled with being in a metal codpiece anymore than she was.

"You misunderstand," Gatz shook his head, and the smile dropped from his face, "I'm trying to get this done without getting caught, or barring that, with as little bloodshed as possible. I'd rather humiliate myself and wear a codpiece than blow open the building, end up killing people who might not deserve it, only to then high-tail it out of there with half of Nar Shaddaa on our asses."

Gatz started to walk up the loading ramp on The Long March. R4 was still in the cargo bay, patrolling it with a blaster in his manipulators as he often did. He probably shouldn't have been allowed access to a blaster, with how fried his circuits were, but the quirky droid hadn't shot anyone yet.

"Besides, if I were trying to get you naked, I'd be trying to get you naked. Not just in some scrap metal."

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

"With as little bloodshed as possible." This blonde flyboy was unlike every other smuggler she'd ever met, which was a good thing. Felicia wasn't in the habit of taking lives either. That wasn't her line of work. Her specialty was getting in and out of places she wasn't supposed to be, without being seen—and if seen, without getting caught. Felicia had nothing to prove, no chip on her shoulder. This was strictly business. There was no need to overcomplicate business.

"You're more admirable than most people I meet in this line of work," she smiled coyly, no malice in her voice. "For what it's worth, I trust you to keep your hands to yourself, but we all know when it comes to keeping your hands to yourself, Hutts are real lacking. Like I said, I'm no Hutt's plaything. There are plenty of other high paying jobs out there. I do have some dignity, you know."

Following him toward the light freighter, Felicia leaned against the ship's metal plating and watched him begin the ascent up the boarding ramp.

"Noble intentions aside, there's a reason I wear this mask. I have a life outside of this line of work." She revealed the high-grade explosive Benji had sent along. "Besides, where am I going to hide this in that skimpy outfit?"

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

"I'm trying to avoid even needing that bomb. Why cause a ruckus, when we can literally walk right past them?"

Gatz turned around, and sat on the top of the loading ramp. They had time before they needed to move on this warehouse, time enough to plan, grab something to eat, and maybe even play a round of sabaac. Or, maybe in their case, time to argue over how they were going to approach this job. It wasn't that Gatz didn't understand Noir's disgust with the idea. He did. Didn't like the idea of being near naked either.

But all the other options he could think of were worse.

Gatz pinched his nose, "look, I'm not asking you to dance for Yebbet the Hutt. I doubt he'd even be there: we're talking some off-the-docks warehouse, after all. The Foreman probably has a key, or a code to the vault up in the office. We go in dressed as typical skimpy servants, find our way up to the office, snag the key, and steal the crystals."

As if it would be that simple. No job, no plan, ever survived first contact with the enemy. Maybe this wouldn't even work.

"If you've got a better idea, I'm all ears. But I'm not killing anyone unless it's in self-defense. And I'm definitely opposed to blowing up the vault. We'd never make it off Nar Shaddaa."

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

"And what exactly is your plan once we get inside the warehouse? We can't just waltz out with an entire shipment of kyber crystals," Felicia countered, not backing down. They were at an impasse, both of them too stubborn to back down, too set in their ways to listen to an alternative method.

Felicia extended the claws at the end of her gloves and held them up for examination, watching the streets light's reflection on each black talon. "Like it or not, we're probably going to have to crack a few skulls along the way," she said in a casual tone. "That doesn't mean we have to kill them. I don't want to kill anyone either. I'm a thief, not a murderer."

Silver eyes shot toward the smuggler, resigned at the top of the boarding ramp. "I'd like to keep the tools of the trade close by, just in case we get caught. They're not going to turn a blind eye to us wheeling a shipment of kyber crystals out of the vault just because we're dressed like dancers. There's more than one way to skin a cat, flyboy."

@Vicc125

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Noir made a fair point. A good one, in fact. They couldn't exactly walk back out with the goods. So they either had to have an alternative exit, where no one would see them slip out, or they needed to be able to defend themselves as they made their escape. Gatz doubted that they'd manage to go unseen, had never thought that a possibility in the first place. It was why he was onboard with the disguises.

But dancers and servants didn't carry shipments of kyber crystals around.

It was at this time that R4 rolled to a stop at the top of the boarding ramp. He chimed in binary, and a panel on his body popped open, revealing a little hidden container. A modification the smuggler had made to the droid, at the cost of sacrificing the fuel tank for R4's thrusters. Gatz looked up at the droid, and blinked. Usually, he used the modified storage in R4's body to smuggle small spice shipments. But the droid was right: they could hide his blaster, plus another small object or two in there was well.

Gatz had a serving tray to mount around R4's dome as well.

"A compromise?" Gatz questioned his droid, or Noir, he wasn't sure who, "yeah. You could pass as a serving droid, if we mount your tray."

Gatz removed his blaster from his hip, clicked the safety on, and stored it inside the droid. Noir's gloves would definitely fit inside, still. Maybe even the explosive device, though they'd have to pack it well.

"Well?" Gatz turned back to the Echani thief, "think we can meet each other halfway? We can sneak in as dancers or servants or whatever. Bring Arfour with us, packed with our essential tools, with him under the guise of a serving droid. That gives us a chance to case our surroundings before we reveal ourselves, find the shipment, our exits, and do a body count. And then when we inevitably get ourselves caught, R4 is right there with our weapons. And your bomb. Which I'm still against using, but in the name of cooperation, I'm willing to compromise on that detail."

@llamallove

 

[Felicia Harlow]

Felicia smiled, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed. This smuggler wasn't as stubborn as she'd thought. The Echani ran a gloved hand along the top of the astromech's domed head, fingertips brushing gently against the R4 unit's cold metal plating.

She tilted her head toward the smuggler, conceding. "Like I said, there's more than one way to skin a cat. A compromise it is." In this business, you had to be flexible. Otherwise, you weren't going to make it far. The cat burglar tugged the gloves off, tossing them into the astromech unit's hidden compartment along with a couple of grenades.

"And in the spirit of compromise," she added, making a big show of the removal of the high-grade explosive, "I'll leave this behind." Felicia was unsure why he was so opposed to the explosive when it might serve as a distraction or possibly an alternative way to break into the vault, but she supposed everyone had their own code of ethics. Felicia, for one, trained in the fighting style of the Echani and the philosophy of the Matukai, never used blasters.

"There's still one problem though," Felicia stated, pointing toward her mask. On two points she was adamant: the mask stayed, and no dancer's outfit. A servant, sure, but not a dancer. A girl had to draw the line somewhere.

@Vicc125