And...they'rrre off! (all Sector Rangers)

Sasseeri watched the holovid closely, as the blob race started lightyears away on Umgul. She had a bit of money riding on one of those piles of ooze...hopefully it would win, as her tip suggested that it would.

Of course, there would be no foul play on Umgul. The blob races were notoriously clean. Ten minutes later she was switching off the vid, and cursing. Nothing like losing a bet to get into a good mood.

She rose to her feet, stretched to her full five feet three inches, and slipped into her heeled shoes. Sasseeri adjusted her suit jacket, and walked out of her office.

Addressing the secretary, she queried, "Arrre they herrre?"

The female human nodded. "Yes, they've all been shown into the Red Room. Mr. Wednesdaydale has also given word that he is attending, but he hasn't shown up yet."

Sasseeri growled a little, and stalked down the hall towards the Red Room. It was a perfect setting for the meeting...decorated in lush red to red-orange tones, and complete with bloodwood paneling. It was the most expensive room in the entire building.

It was a good idea to show off a little, letting the new recruits see the wealth that awaited them after a successful contract with the Rangers. Kal Olorin should be here...but he was off in Arkanis, doing some dirty work for her.

She adjusted her tawny hair, and then opened the doors, to find an unusual group of people around the large conference table.

He stood to the right of the great doors that led beyond to Sasseeri's office. Waiting is something Berith knew and had grown quite intimate with. When word had been sent that the powerful vigos of the Black Sun were seeking more soldiers and lieutenants under their clandestine cover within the Sector Rangers, Berith Xho did not delay the journey. This was an offer of a more lucrative status and opportunity to make his bones amongst the biggest players in organized crime.

The building interior design were rather typical with very little aesthetism which contained no doubt the latest security and technology hidden in it's heart. Until he was led to the corridor leading to a conference room in which he was notified to kindly await the arrival of the guests. The room had a very plush appearance and designed to make oneself feel welcome... feel comfortable. He smirked to himself.

The guests slowly filing in finally ceased followed by a long awkward moment of silence as the scoundrals were forced to observe or ignore one another altogether. Berith chose to stare intently at the double doors beyond the great conference table when they finally opened bringing in a small female cizerack whom he knew as Vigo Sasseeri.

Elena glanced around slowly at the group of people here, one eyebrow raising ever so slightly. The room they'd all been lead into was interesting to say the least, much like the others standing in it with her. She paid no real mind to most of the group, instead simply watching the door as it opened to show the one they'd all been waiting for. Folding her arms over her chest, she smirked - this was the first time she'd laid eyes on Sasseeri, and infact on any cizerack at all. With a soft inhalation, the scent of the 'creature' was burned instantly to her memory.

She didn't say anything; it was probably the proper thing to do in a situation like this, remain silent that is. After having spent enough time around the Council at The Empire, she knew that figures in power often wanted quiet, respect and the like, and in the end she was all too happy to offer it for the time being - especially when her mind was blank for some witty greeting to say.

A blue skinned hand brushed aside a stray lock of white hair, tucking it out of the way behind one ear as two pinpoints of crimson took quick stock of the rooms occupants. Sorus settled his gaze on the Cizerack female, Sasseeri, if he recalled the primitive sounding name correctly. He wasn't particularly impressed with what he saw, though he remained wary. To his thinking, Black Sun was either composed entirely of weaklings, or she was more capable than she appeared.

It is very likely to be the former, the blue skinned humanoid mused. The others he dismissed outright after his initial examination, they were in no position of authority, and thus below his notice.

The assassin tugged at his flowing black cloak. Typically, Nemesis chose not to wear the cumbersome garment, but for this occasion he made an exception. It was well tailored and almost regal in appearance, giving the gathering a mock sense of dignity at best. His cloak also supplied him with several neat little storing spaces for extra arms in case this cordial invite transformed into an all out struggle for survival.

As the wide doors, poised at he other end of the room, opened Nemesis rose from his seat. He hadn't bothered to assess the appearances of the other guests for he did not intended to associate with them on any other level than standing in the same room.

Which brought his mind to any even better question, why was he here? The veteran preferred solitude and detested being sucked into any form of conglomerate. He was a loner in ever meaning of the word.

On the other hand, business had been rather slow as of late. So he welcomed every opportunity at an increase.

Nemesis' flashing white eyes locked onto the small woman that entered the crimson colored room. So this was a vigo? The epitome of the underworld. His cold soul was taken aback by her. Truly, there must be more to this frail female than meets the eye. But soon, everything would be explained.

Stepping from his speeder car once the chauffeur had opened the door, Barnaby snipped the tip of a cigar, lighting it, as his assistant slid on his overcoat for him.

Good lad. Come along, squiyah....

Entering the Sector Rangers district headquarters on Arcanis was a bit like stepping into the Lion's Den. Barnaby disliked being in the company of his cross-galaxy counterpart. She was the type of lady to give your Jackson Pollocks a rapping, because she liked to hear em ring. Barnaby could appreciate sadism for all its social graces, but there was such a thing as honor amongst thieves. Nevertheless, he entered, and was escorted to the Red Room. As he walked along, he spotted a motley assortment. He muttered under his breath.

Cor Blimey...Et's like the Imperial Foreign Legion, squiyah. Ah've seen less variety en a bowl af alphabet soup.

His assistant shrugged a bit.

They ain't 'xactly s'posed ta be a hoverball squad, Guvnah.

The bounty hunter stood, segregated from the rest near the end of the conference table. He stared through his crimson vizor towards the Vigo. The cizerack's most always seemed weak, seemed being the key word. He had heard of the strength, and even the rumor of how strong the females were in bed from some guy who was shooting off his mouth in a bar. Tirak wasn't surprised to never hear from him again.

His hand wasn't that far from a blaster pistol on his hip. He hadn't been around anyone in this room before, and that made him rather cautious, one of the reasons he was still completely dressed in his armor, and another reason why he wore his helmet still. The readouts through his vizor of the room, made it look more red than it was. It appealed to Tirzak, made it seemed comforting.

He usually took care of things on his own, but to be aligned with The Sector Rangers may help him. More contracts were always welcome, because along with them, came money.

His armor gleamed slightly in the artificial light, he turned to look at the older man who had just walked in. He kept quiet, waiting for the Vigo to begin her talking...

An' we meet again, love.

(A whisper snaked out behind Elena, and to her unfortunate surprise stood Grev Drasen, the callous racketeer acquainted before hand in the lobby room. With his hands stuffed conveniently in his coat pockets, he stood awaiting instructions by his feline 'Vigo' as to speak.)

(I entered the meeting room, trying to be as discrete as possible. Fortunately such public outings allowed me to lay low, while my employer tended to other matters. As long as I wasn't in the forefront of things, I was happy. I flipped up the collar of my coat, glancing to my side as Saarrreeaa came in. She was probably feeling the same way I felt, and didn't mind playing the wallflower either.)

Upon the appearance of the second Vigo, one Mr. Wednesdaydale, he seated himself. Berith Xho cast sidelong glances at those whom were seated around the conference table. He observed no familiar faces in the room, a fact which personally pleased him. It was not his greatest intent to butt heads with old enemies nor rivals. It was an opportunity to wipe the slate clean and become an integral part of the Black Sun. Thankfully it had not been a great hyperjump to Arcanis furthermore complimented by an unusually gracious entrance into the TSR headquarters sans any unduly security protocols. This displayed just how sufficiently the organization was managed. His olive green eyes settled back on Vigo Sasseeri. The troghul was eager for business to commence.

Saarrreeaa was relieved that she was not entering after Sasseeri, and slipped quickly into a seat far away from Sanis. Sasseeri opened the doors just as she got settled, and Saa felt her hackles rise.

Or would have, had she had any. She settled for her skin crawling, and shifted her weight in the seat. Saa refused to meet Sanis' eyes, although she could feel them on her. She just wanted the meeting to get over so she could go back to her number crunching.

Sasseeri took a seat at the head of the table, and frowned as Wednesdaydale fumbled and grumbled at his chair before managing to put his old body into it. "Welcome to the Sectorrr Rrrangerrrs."

She looked into the eyes of each one of them, weighing them in her mind. "You arrre all herrre forrr a rrreason. jI do not need to know yourrr rrreasons, but jif they jinterrrferrre wjith ourrrr operrratjions, you wjill be dealt wjith accorrrdjingly." Her stunningly beautiful face, berefit of the stripes usual on Cizerack, held a hard edge that you might miss if you just glanced at it,

Today was all business. TIme enough for pleasure later...and by the looks of this bunch, there would be plenty of pleasure to be had. One in paticular appealed to her, though not as much as Sanis, of course. Grev...what was his name again? Sasseeri let her dark blue eyes linger on the human male.

"jI wjill not make you go arrround jin a cjirrrcle and jintrrroduce yourrrselves to each otherrr, that you can do on yourrr own tjime. jI need to know where you'll fjit jin my orrrganjizatjion, howeverrr." She paused, "jIn the legal and the not so legal sjides of jit."

Sasseeri eyed the group once more. "jI wjill be holdjing prrrjivate jinterrvjiews wjith each of you overrr the next few days to place you wjithjin the Sectorrr Rrrangerrrs." She adjusted her suit jacket again, it was bunching up and not revealing her tanned cleavage properly. "But fjirrrst, arrre therrre any questjions?"

Nemesis returned to his seat with the arrival of both Vigos. He listened intently to Sasseeri's words then turned a watchful eye to the other members of the party. The assassin grew curious of the his fellow Rangers, or , wary of them whichever the case may be. A deafening silence filled the room as the Cizerack awaited any possible inquiries from her guests.

Yet a particular statement the feline had made interested the hunter, beyond any unnecessary questions for the moment. She intended to learn more of the fledgling rangers, but without the need for specifics on the legality of their profession.

He found the need of vagueness quite humurous. For when the time came, how many different ways can one explain a hired killer and still retain the gray area of lawfulness.

"Perhaps I will explain that I am in 'garbage disposal' ." Nemesis pondered as he freed a slight chuckle.

He blinked, and stifled yawn, and decided he may as well say something. That is until he paid attention to what Sasseeri was saying, so he simply folded his hands on his lap and wondered what he would say in his interview with the feline virgo....

Mako entered the room without a word, sat without a word, and silently listened. The SNiper was a tad bored, not at all interested in the room anymore but interested in his 'employer' Vigo Sasseeri for the moment.

He wore a seemingly hot red trenchcoat with white sleeveless shirt under it, black pants which did not and would not hinder his movement if he had to escape for any reason. The congregation was varied, he knew, and probally all knew why they were here..

He did.

It wasnt a one time deal, it was a job he would not have to reapply for again. Mako's ruby eyes centered on the Vigo once more as she asked if there were any question from the congreation. Mako stiffled a yawn and leaned back in the comfortable chair, letting his guard down tremendously...

She stayed quiet, trying as best she could to ignore the lout who'd approached her. Instead, she concentrated on what the Vigo was saying - it seemed simple enough, not too much fuss and minimal questions asked, an excellent way to work. The Lupine had no questions persay, though did wonder what the interview with the cizerack would be like.

Berith cast his perpetual glare on the hooded assassin whom spoke openly before shifting his attention back on Sasseeri. The vigo was quite small and petite, yet spoke very well, purveying an air of command and inner strength. Something else he noted was the cizerack's body language. However he felt no inclination to speak at this moment. Choosing discretion amongst this hive of scum and villiany. Berith smirked and thoughtfully glanced about the conference table waiting for another to break the silence.

"Quite a lively bunch." He spoke aloud for once, attempting to break the silence that seemed to be occupying the room. Glancing around at the various faces, the assemblage seemed to be all business - which suited the smuggler fine, though he'd prefer working with a little more of a 'socialable' group. Waiting for a Vigo or perhaps another associate to speak, he stood with his hands still lingering in the depths of his overcoat.

"Yes, I have one question," Sorus said. "It was a long trip, and I desire something to eat. Will there be an opportunity for a small meal before you conduct your interviews?"

Sasseeri raised an eyebrow at the 'garbage disposal' comment, and then the handsome one spoke up.

"Quite a lively bunch." He was being sarcastic, and she allowed her mind to dwell on what he might look like sans clothing. Njice.

"Yes, Sorrrus, jisn't jit? You can take the 'ljift down to the cafeterrrjia on the thjirty-second floorrr. jIf therrre arrre no furrrtherrr questjions, then thjis meetjing jis overrr."

She pushed back her chair, and rose to her feet, signalling the end of the affair. As the others stood, milled about or ventured from the room, she approached Wednesdaydale. She draped her arms around the back of his chair, and rested her slim hands on his shoulders. "How arrre you, Shoestone?"

The dark clad hunter rose, once more from his chair and directed himself toward the door. He could not prevent the overwhelming thought that this entire rendezvous had been a waste of time.

His fellow Rangers appeared to be as helpless as newborn babes, for the exception of one Sanis Prent whom Nemesis had heard much of. This would furnish him with no support should he every have the need. On the other hand, they also posed little threat to him should one of them decide to hinder his business.

As for the Vigos themselves, the hunter was left with the choice between a senile old man or a woman who was in desperate need of a litter box. How could any Ranger fall in line behind either of them. If ever one came to call on this assassin the price had better be right.

As for the meeting itself, if the purpose resided solely in notifying him of his citizenship within the organization, the warrior would have recieved just as much pleasure from a "Welcome" card and a handful of candy.

Thes meetin' ain't ovah...despite whot mah fellow business associate moight say otherwoise.

Gingerly, he removed her hands, mindful of her ever-spiteful claws.

Yew've been suckin on the same ol' tit, an' Ah've not even had the time tew say my spiel, squiyahs. Despite our ahppearance es a noice big ol' happy famileh, we ain't soh frahcken' jolly et times.

Berith Xho ever the consummate professional never rose from his seat desiring to be last departure. He had been studying the other occupants of the room since he had arrived. Hoping to gleam any information and knowledge of each individual he was sharing space with. You may call it the criminal mind but it was natural instinct for a troghul. When the elder Vigo finally spoke, however jocular his words, underneath them lie gravity and seriousness. He had to admit that this foray had grown slightly amusing but was never a waste.

Berith was eager to gather more insight on this rather conspicuous motley gathering... in no less the very heart of TSR. The troghul was impressed. Criminals operating from within a corrupt law enforcement agency. Who would have imagined. The cizerack and the old man were quite a piece of work as a pair. And Berith wanted a large slice of their operation. His lips peeled back in a sinister grin as he fully realized the gift landed on his lap.

(I lit a stim, its acrid smoke wafting above as I watched the exchange between the two Vigos. Exhaling, I found my eyes drifting back to Saa. She was still reeling from a lot of things that had been put on her shoulders, none of which were fair. There was the guilt, as always, but more than that, an underlying obligation.)

Saa noticed Sanis noticing her, and she looked away from him. It was difficult, but he'd told her from the beginning that there were no garantees. She hadn't realized at the time exactly what that meant.

Wednesdaydale was taking the jam right out of Sasseeri's donut, with his little interruption. People who had begun moving settled back into their chairs, and Saa's ears perked up.

Sasseeri smiled at Wednesdaydale's comment, and removed her arms from his chair. "Thjis jis my assocjiate, Mrrr. Wednesdaydale. He wjill be jin the prrrjivate sessjions wjith me, when we evaluate wherrre to place you jin ourrrr orrrganjizatjion."

She shot Shoestone an almost venemous glance, but he ignored her. As per usual. A lesser Vigo, he was not without influence. But Sasseeri dreamed of the day when she would find out how to get rid of him. "Wednesdaydale, djid you have anythjing else to add?"

He hadn't moved when Sasseri had finished, and hadn't even blinked when Mr. Wensdaydale made his statement about "Not being so jolly all the time." He didn't except 'jolly' are good times, he had came to join the Rangers because he had heard it was good money for doing things he did for fun most of the time.

He cleared his throat quietly, and shifted in his seat placing his hands on his lap, getting the feeling that this was gonna last longer than a few mintues.

The ominous black figure had halted his hasty exit from the room at the words of the elderly Vigo. He had no desire to make his way yet again to his open chair, instead Nemesis chose to stand right where he was, turning his head to acknowledget Mr. Wednesdaydale who now had the floor.

The wide door the assassin had entered earlier that evening lay only a few steps away. He would have been a liar if he denied the urge to leave, but as before, business for a hired killer needed a shove in the right direction. That direction lead him to this place.

(My attention turned back to the old codger, and I arched an eyebrow. There was always a constant in the universe. As you get older, some things shrink, but your balls always seem to get bigger. It seemed appropriate, considering that there weren't many people in the universe who could tongue-lash Sasseeri like that, and I wasn't on that list. Therefore, seeing the spectacle both piqued my interest, and got me to notice where the emergency exits in the room were. Either Wednesdaydale had a good poker face, or he meant every ounce of what he said.

He didn't seem like a bluffing man.)

Lann sat, eyes hidden behind shades, listening to both vigos exchange verbal barbs. Rather aggitated and tempted to say something mordant, instead he chose to let out a sigh and loosened up sitting back in his chair. The rising tension forbid him to move much, well at least not abruptly. It felt like high noon and the room was stifling. Suffocating.

He did not miss any of the silent exchanges between Sanis and the two cizaracks in the room. Sanis was a close associate of Sasseeri and her niece, Saarreeaa. He had a long history with both. But Lann perceived something amiss now, something hopefully propitious. The ex-soldier finally broke this imaginary restraint by reaching into his black overcoat's breast pocket and carefully drew out a cigarra. The table at which they sat was a beautiful rich mahogany with a sea of strikingly rare deep purple marble. Luxuriously expensive. He ignited a match off the table's edge and lit up. "Well...," he whispered low to himself with cigarra hanging precariously between lips.

Diego stepped into the room, immediately assailed by acrid cigar and stim smoke. Closing his eyes for a moment, he waved smoke from his sensitive nose with a pass of a hand. As he moved to a seat...he froze. Among the milling smells of smoke, and various aliens of differing amounts of cleanliness...he smelled something very bizarre. It was something he almost recognized as one of his own children...yet at the same time, different. Blue eyes came to rest on one...a female with blonde hair.

Slowly, he took his seat, his attention completely diverted from the menial matters of the meeting.

She looked about, she listened, she got bored. The atmosphere in the room was incredibly dull, and though she imagined some found it absolutely thrilling to listen to an old man who they could barely understand and a feline, of all things, she didn't. All she was concerned with at this moment in time as a) getting paid and b) getting revenge. It was a simple enough concept, not need to litter it was trival matters such as--

A man entered, and she looked up at him instantly, eyes narrowing. A flood of hatred smashed down upon her like a brick for the briefest of moments before she regained her composure, easing claws back into her fingertips.

Noting that the look had been returned, Elena gave a thin smile and nod in greeting.

Ah've Ehmpohtant business weth mattahs regahdin' mah confectionary business.

Though it sounded bizarre, Wednesdaydale was deadly serious.

Et's a bit less enfluential than mah feline Luv's grab-awll conglomerate, but ah'm a man af pahticular principles, en Ah'm need'n good chums weth the same disposition on mortality.

Yew moight even considah et a bittah ironeh, but when yew trade en death sticks...encidentally...people need tew turn up...expired, an such. Ah've developed a bittaf a penchant foh et, admittedly.

Sasseeri stood to the side of Shoestone, and watching the older man as he talked. People said that her accent was bad...it sounded like he was trying to talk around a mouthful of cotton wool or something.

She cocked her head to one side, but allowed him his say.

"So, you need assassins."

Diego looked at the man.

"Or at least, moreso than smugglers or others?"

His eyes remained locked on Mr. Wednesday listening intently to the Vigo's request. Measuring his words carefully. Appears Mr. Wednesdaydale was only seeking muscle and shooters. To utilize professional killers and stone cold heartbreakers to push and advance his deathsticks commerce. Then the punctual fellow spoke, asking Mr. Wednesdaydale the question the whole room wanted answered. The ex-soldier's eyes never left the Vigo. Assassins. Killing was well within Lann's repertoire. But Lann held his silence, slowly exhaling cigarrette smoke. Awaiting the response.

Greed and power. Were the single inseparable motivating factors in Berith Xho followed not far by bloodthirst. When Mr. Wednesdaydale spoke in his unique basic dialect, he had no difficulty comprehending. The Vigo made melodious music to the troghul's ears like the legendary sirens of unknown space. But was Mr. Wednesdaydale offering highstake mutual profits or was he asking us to sell our souls to his personal gain. The fingers on his right hand tapped steadily on the marble sea, black enamored talons clicking very quietly. Likewise his thoughts quietly but methodically worked out equations and deductions, seeking the sum.

He never moved after the female feline stopped talking. He turned and looked to the old man, as he wasn't that far away from. He was rather silent during everything, and stayed that way as he watched everyone.

His eyes fell on the cizerack Vigo, of course she couldn't see through her vizor, so had no idea whatsoever. He had indulged of the pleasures of the flesh before, and wondered what it would be like with this one. His helmet shook lightly, but he brought himself to attention again.

He watched as some of the people noticed his helmet shaking, and he shrugged it off. What was this other Vigo getting at? Did he need people to oversee an operation?

Makoto sat rigid for the most part, then slowly slid back in the chair into a rather comfortable posistion. The human looking Vigo had a strange accent which was quite interesting to listen to.

He seemed to be hinting at needing assassins or hitmans, something to that degree. Which just make Makoto quiet bored, even though he did not show it. Then a newcomer spoke with question.

What would this Vigo respond with?

"Expired." the inky black assassin murmured; ensuring no other ears detected his outward thoughts.

The term denoted a triviality for the lose of life, but one could not expect to find princes of virtue amongst the depraved monarchy within a syndicate. Yet, the elderly gentleman's words appealed to Nemesis. After all, his line of work dealt solely with enforced expiration.

Yoh a bittah ahstute, squiyah.

Barnaby focused on Diego.

Ta put et bluntly, Ah ain't enna position ta do et mahself...an Ah got enuff quid ta drown ya conciences or lack thereof. Ah dun make a gandah es to how ya dun et eithah. Stabbem, smashem, burnem 'en bashem. Jes gettit done, sonneh Jim.

He looked about, hoping that the answer not only wet Diego's pallette, but also the others around him. There were more than a few with that distant look in their eyes...the sure sign of a killer.