Ask With Friends Like These

[Sett]

Sett lay comfortably in his seat, contemplating death. Not his own, of course. Just someone close to his heart—close to the hearts of many people, really—it depended on who you asked. But whether they were loved or hated, they were one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, and killing them wouldn’t be easy.

But Sett always did like a challenge.

Over the last year, he had established a fighting pit in Mon Espa, far from the Republic’s prying eyes and the Syndicate’s meddling affairs. He’d cut out his own little slice of heaven in the Tatooine desert. And while he couldn’t quite call himself a daimyo or even a crime boss, he earned a tidy enough profit to keep this ‘hobby’ of his going. How long it would last, he didn’t know. That relied purely on the success of his next scheme: starting a war.

The fighting pit was packed today, crammed to the doors with nobodies, somebodies, and everyone in between—people with nothing in common, besides a thirst for blood and spectacle. And in a few minutes, they’d get some. He already had a few notable gladiators queued up, everything from captured Za Fenn hirelings to retired Sector Rangers searching for glory. Whatever happened next, it’d be a bloodbath.

And above it all, Sett would watch through the cold, gray mask he always wore. At least today he matched it with a black suit and tie, a red handkerchief stuffed in his breast pocket. Although he’d once dressed like a common thug, he was nothing but fashionable now, a king. Thanks to the drinking apparatus installed in the helmet, he permitted himself a few sips from a tiny bell-shaped glass of apricot wine to try and soothe his nerves, but still he stayed alert, waiting for his contact to arrive.

A shadow crossed the corner of his eye. Speak of the devil.

Sett swirled his glass, not bothering to look back at the mercenary, instead expecting them to take the open seat beside him. “You’re late,” he said.

@Sreeya

 

[Edin Frost]

Funnily enough, not wearing a helmet was how Edin maintained his anonymity. Once he donned his armor, he was known as the deadly assassin that was beginning to catch the attention of some of the most powerful figures in various governing bodies. Edin normally posed as the administrative broker for clients, taking the job and the first half of the payment on behalf of the assassin he represented – which was actually himself. It worked out great, mainly because no one expected his cheery personality to be someone that killed without mercy.

He was late and he knew it. He didn’t know what this job was other than the fact that credits were enough to raise his brows. Edin spotted his client at the meeting point and sauntered over to take the seat next to him, a fruity red drink in his hand. He was unfazed by the moody greeting, keeping his gaze trained forward.

“Can you blame me? This fighting pit is fantastic,” He said gleefully, “It even brought Golgo out of retirement!” Golgo was a particularly brutal one-armed orcolan that was all grit and muscle. He was banned from many arenas, but he was a fantastic crowd pleaser. Edin took a sip from his drink before turning to look at his client, flashing him a charming fanged grin, “Edin Frost,” He said as he extended a hand to shake his. If his client was the broody type, he wouldn’t be bothered, “So what kind of man are you? The right to business type or the take the scenic route type?" He jutted his chin towards the fights.

@Song

 

[Sett]

“Thanks,” he drawled, surprised by his contact’s bubbly personality. For someone representing the equivalent of the boogeyman, it was odd, on top of the fact they looked only ankle-deep into adulthood. Then again, Sett couldn’t judge. He was barely in his late twenties and he owned an entire fighting pit—that and much more—so the young man beside him could be fresh out from an academy and it wouldn’t change a thing. As long as he meant business, it didn’t matter.

“A pleasure, Edin Frost. You can call me Sett.” He took his hand and shook firmly. Although he was the brooding type, it was really because he’d mimicked what crime lords he’d seen on the HoloNet, acting haughty and distant, drinking wine and petting hairless cats in their satin armchairs. The real man underneath the mask didn’t care about a handshake, or a bit of smalltalk.

“I’m a little bit of both,” he said honestly. “I’d rather we cut straight to business, but I figured we could talk over some entertainment.” He waved his hand to the brutal fighting that had started below them. Golgo, that one-armed menace, had already mowed through three of the dozen prisoners who’d been tossed into the arena. The crowd was going wild with every kill.

“Feel free to place bets. There’s always good money to be made here at the fighting pits.” He set his drinking glass aside, then his icy, mechanical gaze fell back to Edin. “I’ve got plenty of credits in my coffers, and I understand your contact is looking to make some. I figure you already know what I want. I need him to kill someone for me, someone very important.”

“Before I start spilling details though, I need to know if your contact has the backbone for a job this big. I’ve heard promising rumors, which is why I reached out, but how do I know your contact is really the assassin responsible for taking out Mon Cala’s High Command? How do I know you’re not some upstart thug trying to scam me?”

Maybe it was his paranoia talking. Sett was almost certain the man he’d reached out to was the assassin, but this Edin Frost? He couldn’t be sure. And he wasn’t just about to dump classified information and millions of credits into this stranger’s lap without being a hundred percent certain.

@Sreeya

 

[Edin Frost]

“Just Sett?” He asked, “I expected Lord Mephisto Xavius the Third or something else appropriately diabolical,” He glanced around, “And you’re missing the half naked ladies fanning you and feeding you some grapes,” Edin grinned as he took another sip of his drink. His gaze went back to the arena, clearly thrilled at the prospect of catching the fight.

“All right, I’m going to put some crowns on Golgo knocking the shit out of Garn over there,” He said, pointing to the Wookiee across from Golgo, “But third round is when Garn pummels Golgo and takes him out,” It was a bold bet, but Edin was feeling lucky. He fished out some crowns, more than someone that was fresh out of an academy ought to have. Advertising came in some not so subtle forms sometimes. He handed the money over to the droid collecting bets. It was all dirty money and there were no electronics.

Edin looked back at Sett when he began talking about the job, unsurprised by his questions, “I figured it was someone important with that sexy price tag,” He flashed the man a wink before taking a sip of his drink, “The type of bolt used to kill the Admiral was a half particle bolt with a half inch Xciter circumference shot through a subdued Heter-valve,” He said as his gaze flicked back to the fight, “Details the authorities haven’t released to the public and no one knows.”

Edin shrugged, “And I’m a fair businessman. Only half payment up front,” He took a sip, “If my appearance isn’t to your liking, I can perhaps don a fake beard and an eyepatch if it’ll help you take me more seriously,” He said with a grin.

“Ah! First round, as expected,” He said as Golgo clocked Garn right in the face to land a solid hit.

@Song

 

[Sett]

Sett chuckled, also surprised by the man’s sense of humor. “All excellent ideas—except for that terrible name. I could have a few girls brought over here, if you’d like, but the closest thing I have to grapes here would be the wine.” He noted that Edin had already begun to guzzle through the vintage laid out on the small table between them, enjoying the fight as he did.

“A good wager, I’d say. But Golgo is our reigning champion. You really think a Wookiee exile would be able to beat him, especially after a good pummeling?” Sett eyed the pair of gladiators in the arena. It was bold, betting on a little known underdog, but it wasn’t like he was against the idea. He’d bet the same. Not like he’d let anyone know, though. He may be the one to deal the cards, but he still enjoyed playing too every now and then. It made for interesting entertainment.

What was more interesting, though, was Frost’s reply.

Sett slowly leaned out of his seat as the man explained the exact proportions, weight, and scale of the blaster and shot that had assassinated Admiral Munty. He’d already known them, even if a man in his current position shouldn’t. His informants in the Sector Rangers had fed him plenty of information during the investigation and what Edin had just described to him matched their reports exactly. “I see,” he said. Whoever Frost meant to this assassin, they were obviously close.

He snorted a laugh. “And no, your appearance is fine. I’ve learned that looks can be deceiving, and perhaps I was a bit hasty in judging who you might really be. I know the Syndicates, or at least the Hutt’s, have a tendency to recruit young.” Kids, really. Sett lacked a moral compass, but even he knew some lines shouldn’t be crossed and that involved everything from slavery to childhood indoctrination. Mostly. Just because he was on a backwater, Outer Rim world like Tatooine did not mean he’d simply abandoned all sense of civility.

“Now that I can trust you, I won’t bother beating around the bush.” As he impassively observed the next round of fighting, Sett folded his hands in his lap and said with all the easy, casual indifference he could summon, “I want your friend to kill the Chancellor of the New Republic.”

@Sreeya

 

[Edin Frost]

Edin was surprised to hear a laugh from the grumpy client. With the mask and get up, it was a nice and unexpected surprise, “Ah, only if you have some men that are easy on the eyes too,” He raised his glass in cheers, “I don’t discriminate.”

He kept his gaze on the fight for a moment, watching Garn take another hit to the face. Part of him couldn’t help but agree with Sett, the fight getting brutal, “Wookiees have solid endurance. Golgo will go hard and then overexert himself,” He said with all the confidence he could muster. Edin looked over at the droid handing out drinks, plucking another glass of the same fruity drink.

Edin looked over again when Sett stifled a laugh at his quip about appearances. He eyed the other man over the rim of his glass, a smile playing at his lips, “While I’m flattered by your concern for my upbringing, you really only need to worry about payment and details,” He chuckled softly, taking another swig of his drink.

“You believe me,” Edin cut in briefly at the word trust, “I wouldn’t trust me just yet,” He gave Sett a wink. He had been born into Syndicate territory and had lived and breathed it. Trust was not a word that was ever thrown around often and it was odd to hear it here.

When Sett finally mentioned the target, there was a moment of silence. It was the first ever hint of Edin being something more than just a happy go lucky individual. There was a dark look in his eye, his face growing impassive as if carved from stone. His eyes were frosty as he looked at the fight, deep calculations going on within his mind. He listened for every little detail. He listened for the way Sett shifted next to him, the tone of his voice when he named the target, all of it.

“There is no going back, you understand,” He said after a long moment of silence. Edin had come across multiple clients that regretted handing the job over after the fact. They desperately tried to call it off during. But he always made himself unavailable when things were in motion. Once the target was marked, it was game over.

Edin took another sip of his drink, that dark look over him melting away to be replaced by the usual laidback, “Can you tell me about location and habits that you know so far? Basilisk will observe for a few days before striking. You will not know when it happens,” It was a liability telling anyone when or where specifically. To avoid traps and potential interventions, he had to do his due diligence in only striking when he was 100%.

@Song

 

[Sett]

“Oh, don’t worry on my behalf,” Sett said. “I trust you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you the second I suspect you or Basilisk to cross me. I can only hope that never happens. It’d be a sore shame, burying a face like that six feet in the ground. People might miss it.” Frost had the good looks and charm, that much was obvious, but did he have the same level of skill as his contact?

It didn’t matter. He was just the messenger, and throwing threats around would do nothing more than add to the layer of tension between them. The point of this whole meeting was to wine and dine his contact, to exchange information and negotiate price, before they committed to the mission. And while ‘commitment’ was not something Sett did often, he knew this time, there could be no regrets. “Of course, I understand what will happen. I know the risk I’m taking.” He stared at Edin coolly. “Does Basilisk?”

Whether or not the man answered, Sett let out a sigh. “Emil has an apartment at the 500 Republica.” He offered Frost a tablet displaying the building’s blueprints, including the Chancellor’s apartment. How he’d gotten his hands on the plans, he wouldn’t say. “When he comes back from his office and stays up late to work, he leaves the open balcony unshielded, especially if the weather’s good. If your contact can sneak in right when he arrives, killing him should be easy.”

For the most part. He was sure there were other problems to consider: surveillance cameras, motion sensors, or a security detail—but for someone like Basilisk, chances were none of it would change the end result.

Sett knew this was something he could probably do on his own. He’d thought about it plenty of times. He knew almost everything about Emil: the academic books he read in his library, the kind of coffee he brewed, the disastrous outfits he kept in his wardrobe. He had kept a particular eye on him in the months leading up to this moment, planning and considering. But he couldn’t do it himself. Something was holding him back, like a chain on his leg, rooting him to the spot.

He hated it. Hated how weak it made him feel. And if Sett hoped to become more, then the Chancellor had to die, along with the rest of the Republic.

@Sreeya