Want to Make Some REAL Money?

Ecks walked along a passageway, moving towards Razor's Edge. Now that the Guild was back together and he'd somehow been maneuvered into being the leader of said Guild, he'd not had much time to spend actually working in his chosen profession. Which was a shame, as he was quite good at it.

He'd decided to go after a difficult bounty. An Imperial listing that had been on the books for a few years with no movement. Some might consider it stale, but after doing a bit of checking Ecks had found that the bounty was up to date. Someone was still very interested in getting their hands on Arya Ravenwing, smuggler.

She'd assaulted an Imperial officer and harboring a fugitive was recently added to her list of crimes, though the bounty hadn't gone up. Still, five million credits was a good chunk of change, and the big Falleen was ready to go after it.

But beings didn't end up with six zeroes behind their bounty and at the top of the Empire's Most Wanted list without being a serious heavy hitter. There was sure to be more to this Ravenwing than met the eye. He usually worked alone, but Ecks was looking for a partner for this job. Plus, after you split five million that was still a nice bit of cash to line your nest with.

Taking a turn away from where his ship was docked, Ecks insinuated himself into the bar, taking a look to see who was around.

Hugo stared at the quietly bubbling and slowly smoking glass of what the barman assured him was some sort of whiskey. He was unconvinced - what kind of sick, frakked up society carbonated it's whiskey, for kriff's sake? - but whatever. It had alcohol in; it would do for now.

Under most circumstances, Hugo wasn't a nervous man. It wasn't through a lack of caring or anything: he just didn't normally let events that were out of his control eat away at him. Maybe it was his age. Or the incarceration and torture. Or maybe it was just the events on Ord Ithil, and finally knowing for definite that Emaryn was at peace: that she wasn't out there somewhere, needing him. But damn it, he was worried as hell about his boys.

He'd spoken to them not an hour ago. Given them a set of orders; sent them out on a job. It didn't sound too tough, thank the Force. And while Cambrio was no doubt a little rusty from his sissy little attempt at playing house with that shapeshifting bitch back on Coruscant, Hugo knew that Vittore was a little more on form; he knew he'd imparted enough for them to at least make it through the job alive. As long as they weren't stupid.

Oh, gods. Their whole survival relies on Vittore not being an idiot.

That realisation was almost enough to drag him from his seat there and then, but he forced himself to stay still. They'll be fine, he half-heartedly assured. And you need to stay put. Stay out of it. He reluctantly eyed his glass. That's what the whiskey was for.

With a grimace already prepared on his face, he grabbed the glass and took a bold swig; much to his surprise, the assault of flavours wasn't actually all that bad. Sure, there was a strange edge from the myriad bubbles attacking his tongue, and granted, the slight pomaceous edge to the flavour was a little weird, but it certainly wasn't unpalatable: like some sort of strange, whiskey-cider mixer. He took another, more measured sip this time, and with a contemplative frown, eased back into his seat.

The doors parted, and a viridian figure that barely managed to fit through them strode in with an air of confidence that screamed 'Don't frak with me' at the top of it's - lungs? Falleen had lungs, right? Whatever. At the top of it's breathing apparatus, anyway. If it weren't for the fact Hugo recognised his face, he could probably have worked out that the figure was Ecks, their fearless leader: weren't too many big green guys around with spikes coming out of their eye.

It struck him that he hadn't properly met the guy before, despite him being the boss and Hugo being one of his Lieutenants. I mean sure, they'd met, but odds were that the only thing of any significance that Ecks would remember about him was that little scuffle with Chir'daki, and the way that Daddy Stormtrooper and his kiddies had stunned him, dragged him out of the meeting, and dumped his ass in a room.

Guess I should fix the reputation, he mused, not entirely sure how he was going to go about that; or indeed, if he could even be bothered to do so. Waiting for Ecks' eyes to sweep in his direction, he threw a non-verbal salute with a slight incline of his head, and waited for the Boss to join him.

Montegue. Ecks' eye caught the nod of the human and he walked towards him, stopping briefly at the bar to order an Elba beer. Sweaty can in hand, the Falleen joined Hugo at his table.

He settled into a creaky chair, his large green frame and heavy armor not making it easy to get comfortable. Thankfully that had never been a priority for Ecks. He cracked open the beer. "Montegue. Haven't seen you since the first Guild meeting."

He sipped the beer, and grunted, "Didn't know you were still around."

Hugo shrugged, absorbing the details of what he saw before him. You could tell a lot about a man from subtle clues. The way that Ecks moved; the beer in his hand still contained within its can; it pointed towards a man who didn't care about the little things that many others dwelt on. He hadn't gone for one of the expensive, fancier ales that he'd noticed many of the hunters buying; much like Hugo he'd gone for something at the cheaper end of the scale, that did the primary job of providing a needed infusion of fluids and alcohol.

Of course, there were things that you couldn't tell from observation. For example: had Ecks made his choice out of reluctance to pay for something pricer; or was it because Falleen's taste buds weren't wired up the same way as the target audience of those more expensive beverages? Hugo often found himself wondering such things - his need to understand the varied creatures of the galaxy in order to best hunt and kill them demanded it. He should probably find out at some point, just to satisfy his curiosity. But not now. Later.

He took a sip of his alleged whiskey. "The only active Exotics bounty we've got so far was pretty routine; bounced it down to my boys. They're more than up to handling it." He gestured around him. "In the meantime, I get to enjoy the facilities."

He switched direction, a slight frown creeping onto his brow. "How about you? Are the responsibilities of leadership keeping you too tied up to do any hunting of your own?"

The 'facility' was a run-down, dren stained space station floating incognito among the rest of the garbage in orbit of Nar Shaddaa. No one really enjoyed it. The smell alone was... interesting.

Ecks carefully tipped more beer into his mouth, letting the brew fizz around a bit on his tongue before swallowing. "Was about to head out after one. Two-bit smuggler, somehow ended up almost at the top of the Empire's Most Wanted list."

He raised what would have been an eyebrow on a human, leaning in a bit. "Need to stretch myself." Ecks knew it was old news that he had taken in Loklorien s'Ilancy a year or so ago, only to have the Empire refuse to pay up when the Jedi escaped their custody after he'd turned her over. The woman still remained at the top of their list.

No hunter had tried to capture her since then, at least, not that he'd heard. "Arya Ravenwing. She's listed as vanilla human, but with five million credits offered I figure there must be something the Empire's holding back." Like they did with s'Ilancy. A shapeshifter of all things. He looked over at Hugo, considering. "Was looking for a partner. You interested?"

Frankly, Hugo didn't give a flying frak about what Ecks had to say. It was a platitude; a nicety; small-talk, designed to pass the time without really achieving anything. At least, that's what it should have been. Except it wasn't: not after he mentioned that name.

It was like a switch flicked in his head. Memory slammed into his consciousness, playing in fractured flashes like a recall scene in some cheesy holo-movie, except it was happening in real kriffing life. He saw her: those eerily pericing, aqua eyes, staring at him. He caught flashes of information - briefings he didn't even remember; pain and torture used to drill the knowledge deep into his subconsciousness. He grasped at it, trying to fight the memories that were slipping away through his fingers like the sands of Tatooine.

He caught a name. Arya Ravenwing. The same one that Ecks had spoken. He felt rage knot in his stomach; an unshakeable desire to hunt the woman to the ends of the earth. He didn't understand why he cared. A two-bit smuggler? Hell, that wasn't even remotely interesting; not remotely exotic. He should tell him 'no thanks' - wait for something interesting to crop up. But frak it, he couldn't. He craved this hunt, more than he'd wanted anything for, well, quite some time.

Not that he'd let on, of course. He played it cool and calm as he could, hiding his thoughts and emotions behind a perfect mask of stoicism. "I guess," he responded, throwing in a shrug for added realism. "Not like I have anything better to do."

Ecks cracked a smile as he finished off the Elba and crushed the can in his big hand. "Me either. Guess this'll be fun." He twisted slightly, armor creaking, and tossed the spent can in the direction of a trash can. It hit the side and clattered to the ground, making the bartender curse.

Turning back, the ugly Falleen set his eye on Montegue. "How soon can you leave? I have a line on an alias Ravenwing might be using, but its only a hot clue for a day or so."

The back mind muttered something about his obsessive, fatherly duty to sit around waiting, just in case the boys needed anything from him. At the crux of it, that's why he wanted to be on-hand, close to his holonet terminal. That's why he'd been tempted to fire up the Coromon and ghost 'em, waiting just out of sight ready to save them if things went wrong.

But they were big boys now - freakishly big, in Cambrio's case. He'd trained them all their lives, so that they could take care of themselves if he wasn't around; and Cambrio's taste in women not withstanding, they'd done just fine at that while he'd been in hack. If the Force did one of these days divine to take them down, it'd be kicking, screaming, and blasting the shist out of every son-of-a-Sith in the gorram room.

Compared to the indefinable craving to hunt this Ravenwing woman - a desire that stemmed from somewhere he couldn't comprehend - his paternal instincts were quashed with relative ease.

"I'm good to go now," he responded, trying to keep the tone of his voice professional, and not over-eager. "We takin' your ship, or mine?"

"Mine."

Ecks pushed up to his feet, adjusting his armor a bit as he did. "We're going to Umgul."