Running through the Shadows (Damon, Open)

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Come on Stuntie, is that all ya got?"

The growl that sounded from the floor echoed off the bulkheads, mingling with the oohs and ahhs from the crowd that encircled the two combatants. The fallen warrior got back on his feet, but those in the back had to jump or look between arms to see his diminutive five foot stature. The crowd roared, filling the small cargo bay with noise again.

"Ah know you didn't just say that smeg." The shorter man hissed, wiping the blood out of his beard with the back of his hand. His eyes glowing brightly in his skull, shifting colors from cautionary yellow to warning red.

"I"m sorry I couldn't hear you all the way down there. Gonna need a stool 'fore I can hear you." The human combatant laughed and did a victory strut around the edges of the circle, riling up the crowd; slapping hands and bumping fists.

"It'sokay, you mother got down on my level last night." Dead stop. Turn around. Anger in his eyes. Soft spot poked. Taunt achieved. Target charging. Attempting to use taller body to club the face. Again. Ready this time. Duck down. Out of reach. Move head out of path of prominent knee. Drive fist into groin. Opponent drops. Screaming.

"How nice 'o you to join me, laddy." Ryloth grinned down at his opponent, who was holding his giblets and screaming about cheating. "No rules down here, breeder." Swinging his leg he mounted the chest of the human and began systematically pummeling him in the face. Each hit was a shockwave that send blood flying, broke bones, and bruised flesh. It's not over until one of us goes limp. That's what he said. Fool.

Pulling a rag from his pocket Ryloth wiped his face and hands off and then threw the rag at the unconscious man on the floor. "Clean that drek up." He collected his leather coat and winnings and left. The fight was to pass the time, but they had arrived halfway through. The crowd dispersed; some going back to their stations and others joining the dwarf in disembarking.

Stepping off the ship and into the cargo bay Ryloth reached into the inside pocket of his coat and withdrew a pair of shades that he pulled over his eyes. The lights here were so bright. He was so used to the dingy and dark places of his homeworld. Jovan Station made Sattle look like the backside of a troll with it's shiny bulkheads, reputable businesses, and well groomed citizens. Where others might see a land of opportunity; Ryloth saw a bunch of fools to fleece.

It took some searching to find the dirtier side of Jovan; it was less clear cut here. Honest businesses pitched their stalls next to the dishonest. Black Hat Bay. The name gave it away. A little on the nose. Even through the front windows he could see the racks of electronics and other odds and ends. Ryloth needed the components to build a new deck after he had to sell off his last one to get some of the accepted currency. Nobody wanted his Nuyen; despite being exactly like the credits they use out here; electronic.

Moving his short, stocky body through the door and between the racks, he made his way through the store; eyeballing the items he passed. He wasn't entirely sure what half of this stuff was. It was like nothing back in Sattle. The tech was much more advance, more electronic, with a focus on lasers and other unnuccessary flash. What a bunch of drek.

"Hey chummer," he called out as he reached the front counter, "You sell any chrome? I need a new datajack. Mines a little burned out." He pulled his sunglasses off his face, tucking them into the neck of his shirt, revealing his cybernetic eye optics, while gesturing with his hand toward the metal port that was installed directly into the side of his skull.

[Damon Void]

Void was nose deep in a pair of macrobinoculars he'd taken in a few days prior, working on the internals. Capacitor had been shot and the lenses blown out, probably in a firefight of some sort. Wasn't Void's place to ask how the guy, a lanky Twi'lek with a shift face... and really, didn't they all have that, got the thing. He'd gotten it for a handful of credits, and if he could repair it on his own it'd make at least three times what he'd paid.

He'd missed the telltale jingle at his door and almost missed the question that had been asked due to his concentration. He let out an irritated sigh and looked up from the binocs, then down. Then pulled his lips tight to keep from doing or saying anything immediately running through his mind.

It's a customer first. Always remember that. Don't make a short joke. Don't make a short joke. Don't make a short joke.

"I might have a small amount here somewhere."

Damn it. Why'd this diminutive do-nothing have to wander in right now anyway.

The eye was interesting though. Void wasn't sure he'd seen one like it before, definitely wasn't a model he could ID at just a glance. He leaned in, over the counter to look at the port that the squat little humanoid was motioning toward. "Oh yeah, you got some wicked scoring on that. Frell, shocked it's connecting at all."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Only works when you jam it in just right, and even then you gotta tug it to one side. I won't be reading by candlelight anytime soon."

Sullust was a dangerous place, for a corporate data entrepreneur like Ryloth. There was plenty of competition and all the top dogs were willing to pay big credits for anything on their competitors, and the mid-size corporations would do anything to even the field. It was amazing just what they would finance in order to try and get one over on the other, and sometimes you could play that both ways. Sometimes even more ways than that, until you couldn't even remember which corpo you were actually working for. All that mattered was the number in your account continued to rise and you walked away with your life at the end of it. That last op didn't go so well. They never did. Still, he was alive, and was relatively rich once he got the tech he needed to adjust all that cryptocurrency into something actually spendable. A little blaster scoring on his chrome and the lives of all his accomplices was a small price to pay.

"If'n you got the chrome or wire I'd love to see whatcha got. If not, I'm sure I can pull the parts from some of this drek."

He motioned to the racks of electronics over his shoulder with a far thumb.

"Do you take cryptocurrency? Nuyen?"

[Damon Void]

Void held up a finger giving it a small bounce to indicate he knew just what the little guy was getting at. "Dren, man, I got so many ports around here barely holding on just like that - but, I think I have what you need."

He reached into the counter and pulled out a few boxes, digging through them. The guy wasn't going to grab and go, he was fairly certain. Actually seemed like he knew what he was talking about, which was a rarity in his business. Lots of people wandering in curious, some amateurs who get it into their system they want to start a do-it-yourself project they'll never finish, and occasionally someone who is actually on the level.

Shortstack seems on the level. Which means he wasn't going to fleece him, unfortunately. Those DIY types were great for credits, upsell them on pieces they don't need and will never realize because they're only going to work on it for like... a month before forgetting about it. They may even bring it back a year later when they find it again while cleaning. Repeat business.

A guy like this though you don't take advantage of, well - not a lot. You want a reputation with someone like this, keep them coming back for parts and 'good company' or whatever.

After a few minutes of searching he pulled out three options. One was a used datajack, with a small amount of damage, but could easily be made to work, and was in far better shape than what buddy here was working with. The next he pulled out of it's original box, a brand new jack, though the propriety sizing on it seemed slightly off - he could probably sell an adapter with that one, and the last was little more than scrap. All the parts that were needed seemed to be there but it was a mishmash of components. He had asked about pulling pieces apart earlier, so Void figured he'd at least give him the option if he was the tinkering type.

It would also tell Void a valuable piece of intel on his customer, his level of skill and what kind of product he should be offering to him.

"Nuyen?" He said quizzically. "Not familiar with it. I can probably take it, but there'll be a markup since I'll just have to convert it myself. I take other forms of crpto though, Vidoc, Palbux. Standard credits, of course - heck I'm one of the few places on station that'll take Empire or Alliance. Plus," he amended, leaning in, "I do always deal in trade. If you got anything interesting."

Worth putting the feeler out in case this guy had anything else as exotic as his eye seemed to be.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Letting out a low whistle, Ryloth picked up the brand new plug with two fat fingers and held it up to the light; turning it back and forth a few times.

"Clean enough ta wipe your bum on."

He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a datalink in pristine, brand new condition. They were such a throw away part. Everything came with one these days. You had to go back several tech generations, and a thousand years, to find anything without them. Sure those old ones were all down and barely any up, which was not particularly helpful with what he was using them for. He needed that upload speed. His favorite chop shop back home would hand build them for him, but he didn't have the time to run back to Nar Shaddaa every time he needed to fix his chrome. That would be expensive and time consuming. No doubt if he poked around enough he would find a rip-doc on this station that could slam one of these puppies in his head.

Maybe.

Turning the package over he sucked at his teeth while he read the limited specs on display. Not enough concrete info, and without his deck he was in no position to do any research. His eye couldn't connect to the holonet without the deck to slave to. The text "device not found" flashed at the edge of his vision just to rub it in.

"I'll take this piece of sheet. I can make it werk." He indicated the first one the proprietor showed him. "Can ye point me toward some datapads and parts? The older the better. I ain't lookin' fer functional. I'm aimin' to tear them apart."

[Damon Void]

Interesting. He'd admired the pricey bit of new tech before settling on the older one. Void could have chalked it up to being broke - which would have seen him given the parts and swiftly pushed out the door. No need letting someone kick around and window shop all day - but then he asked for more parts to tinker with. Finances were a concern, potentially, but it looked more like he wanted things he could frankenstein himself. The thin slicer could respect that. His own rig set up in the back was piecemeal, and that's how he liked it. The build was part of the fun - as well as helping to keep things off grid as much as possible. No built in firmware that automatically logs you and your intel back to blade banks, even if that was easy enough to spoof.

"I can set you up with some scrap. You want it by the kilo or by the part, cause I can probably throw you a bit better price if you're cleaning out some of my overstock."

Fact was he had a storage room starting to overflow with the junk, Void was always happy to take in broken tech for parts and recovery, but he was starting to run out of room. Better to sell it on the cheap and get some return on it than let it start taking over and eating shelf space for the better products. Back when he'd started the shop he would have happily just let the detritus build up to keep people out. It was meant to just be a cover for his real activities - but surprisingly the shop was profitable. There always seemed to be someone in need of something, and it was getting good enough he'd considered going legit in his weaker moments. Usually when he was 3 dethsticks to the wind out of his mind. Slicing was his life after all.

Still he enjoyed the mask of a pleasant shop keep. Made the front seem all the more legitimate.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Tempting offers. Large quantities of more than likely useless scrap was not very attractive at the moment; not when he was lacking any capacity to store or transport it himself. He'd love nothing more any other day. A station like this no doubt had plenty of higher tech than he was used to seeing in the slums of Nar Shaddaa. Although, if he was a betting man he would bet it was full of cast off kitchen appliances and holo displays that were easily fixable if one had the time and abilities; something most people lacked in one quantity or the other.

Painstakingly shifting through scrap was not exactly his idea of a good time either. One thing would make that a whole lot easier; if his brain case was actually functioning. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself here by trying to dive straight at the problem without actually having the means to accomplish what he wanted once he had the parts. Wasn't like he was going to wait until he dragged it all back to Sattle. That was far too long a time to go without his uplink. And his drone.

"Ya wouldn't happen to know if'n there's a workbench 'round here I can use, or rent. Wageslaves don't take too kindly to ya opening up ya skull and poking about in front of 'em."

[Damon Void]

Void considered that question. There was, of course, his shop's own back room, littered with projects and his personal systems, private servers and a row of towers dedicated to mining Vidoc. He could rent him some space, but that also meant exposing his less than legal activities to someone who was definitely smart enough to recognize the tools of a slicer. He still weighed the option in his head, the credits would be good and it could open shorty here up to becoming a regular, but there was just too much risk to make the reward worth it.

"Not on this level. Might try down a few, though. Less people concerned with good taste and appearances if you head that way."

He paused and thought again. Well frell, actually what about his overstock locker a level down? Nothing there was actually running or too obvious. Sure his lease on the 10x10 room had a whole big section about sub-leasing, but this wasn't renting space for storage - this was just charging a guy to do some repair work out of it. A couple extra credits heading Void's way was always a positive.

"You know what?" He held up a finger giving it a small tap in the air as if just remembering, "I DO have a place you could get that done at, for a rental fee of course."

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Name yer price, Chummer."

Such a phrase rarely escaped his lips. He was desperate. Name your price? What kind of drek was that? In his line of work that was a really good way to be taken advantage of, or worse, not taken seriously. A professional knows the price of his work. You don't belly up on a "run" and just let the other guy tell you how much he is willing to pay you. That's how you end up in the gutter, with some cyberscalp ripping all your chrome out of your face. You charge a fair rate, with a little on top. Get that money as up front as you can. You are less disposable that way. No black suited corpo scumbag wants to be out all those credits and then have nothing paid back for his investment, but if you are free then he won't think twice about shooting you in the back.

Corporate espionage is a bloody dangerous occupation on Nar Shaddaa. It ain't Byblos.

Something on the back wall caught his eye. Nestled in a shelf of refurbished electronics was a Cyka-Tok Mk. III Infopad. That was old republic tech, from before datapad became the accepted term throughout the industry. It was third party off brand Neimodian schutta, but it had a big body and a bigger screen; albeit low resolution. Lots a space inside on of those badboys. Lots of superfluous parts that were big, bulky, and outdated. That's what he needed. Space. There was no way he could turn a modern day datapad into a functioning Deck. Not enough space. Too many obstacles. He needed a big frame to start from, and the less bloatware and newfangled features the better.

[Damon Void]

Void saw green flash behind his red-tinted lenses and fought the curls of his thin lips pulling up into a smile. He lost that fight, but he still tried. He knew the little fella would see the smile too, know he had given him too much leeway - and he was tempted to gouge him for giving him the opening.

But there was a slicer trick he'd picked up back on Coruscant, one of his favorites, that always saw him make the most obvious incursion into a system and then NOT take advantage of it. 9 times out of 10 they'd lock things down tight on the point of entry, the datajack or the bit of coding that had given him access and focus far too much on that perceived weak spot, leaving other vulnerable areas unattended. The digital equivalent of ringing someone's doorchime and then sneaking in the back.

The wiry code-runner was always surprised how much of his existing knowledge could be applied to running a shop.

"15 for the rotation and upfront cost, an extra 5 if you need it tomorrow too."

It was a reasonable rate. He paid 90 every 30 rotations for the locker, but he doubted that his new friend was interested in renting a space for an entire month - and it was well bellow the cost of any lodging he was going to find on the station, none of which would probably appreciate mechanical work being done in a room they'd have to clean afterward.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Guy was smiling like some slick suited corpo scum, and it made Ryloth's stomach churn a little. He had started to think this guy was on his level for a nanosecond but now he was right back to where he was when he walked in through the door. This was not his kind of guy. This was their level of darknet slicer wannabe gangster. He wouldn't last a second in Ryloth's world, but he would do just fine in this environment. No doubt he was the alpha predator around here, and isn't that just a little sad. Still, good on the lad for shoveling himself a spot in all of this shiny technotrash.

"Sounds reasonable." Digging into his pocket he pulled out a hand full of what appeared to be credit chits, but were obviously modified. They had a purple LED glow to them and they were much cleaner and shinier than you usual chits; which had a tendency of getting quite dirty as they exchanged hands and sat in pockets all day long. A sharper eye might even notice that they were a bit bigger. More digital storage capacity that way. No doubt the proprietor had seen cryptocurrency chits before, but these ones had just that little bit of extra flair that was common down Sattle way.

And each was a locker filled to the brim with Nuyen.

"How much fer that Cyka-Tok Mk. III?"

He was ready for a price that was going to be astounding. It was an antique even if it was a piece of shit when it was produced. Something like that would sit proudly on a shelf back in his own workshop and if not for the present circumstances he would never dream of butchering one all to pieces and putting it together completely different, and better. That would like tearing down a war monument because you didn't like the architecture style and using the rubble as ammo for your catapult.

[Damon Void]

His eyebrow raised at the odd crypto, probably the Nuyen that had been mentioned. He was already planning to take a hit on the rental, so even if it didn't convert well he'd swallow that cost. Just keep the tab running for now, so everything else could go as he expected, just bits of code falling into place.

Then the variables changed again. "The Mk. III?" He said legitimately stunned at the question, and turning back to look at the old pre-Empire tech on the shelf. That was an expensive request, if he were still back in the Empire he may not have even been able to sell it for anything more than scrap. At least not above the board. Thank you Alliance and your obsession with 'freedom.'

He pulled it down from the shelf and sat it on the table between them. "I'm not going to insult you." He said bluntly, tapping the kit. "500, firm." It wasn't actually firm. He'd take 4.5, but there was no reason to open with that number.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

That was a surprising number. Surprisingly low. Ryloth would have bet all the Nuyen between his fingers that this smartass was going to completely overvalue the piece of tech; for sentimental reasons or some other shite, and charge an arm and a leg for it. It was a collectible, that was for sure. It was not good tech, but that was not exactly what he wanted it for. He wanted a solid platform, and Cyka-Tok products were built to last. If you dropped one you were more likely to crack the floor than the screen. Funny thing, really. They sold it with a protective sleeve. No need for that.

A fair price is a fair price, and he felt far too out of his comfort zone on Jovan to be making any negotiations. He had nothing to use as leverage, and any threats or gruff cold shouldering was just as likely to get him tossed in a cell for the night as much as get him a cheaper price. A little bit of him died to go in without a fight, but he was willing to pay a tax in order to maintain the peace on this unfriendly of territories.

"Deal."

Examining the chits in his hand, he weighed their amounts, added with the market value of Nuyen the last time he checked the index and... yeah. It wasn't great. Gonna cost most of what he had on him. He had credits. Enough to cover this cost, but here was a gentleman willing to trade in crypto, and the next guy sure wasn't going to. They were a rare breed, on this side of the galaxy anyway. He was going to need actual credits for later; for transport and food, lodging and whatnot. He doubted this gentleman was going to let him sleep on his workbench. He'd slept in worst places.

"Righto, let's roll all that together, and let's just make it an even six hundred. That'll cover yer markup for the crypto, and a little extra as am sure I'll be needing more parts as I work. Call it a tab, or don't. I dunny care."

Taking two of the chits he set them on the counter top and pocketed the remaining one. The lightness to his pocket was not a reassuring feeling. Back on Nar Shaddaa no money on hand meant no ways of bribing your way out a surprise visit from some corpo thugs or syndicate goons. Things should be better here, he would think. It was a military installation after all.

"If'n you don't mind, I'd like to see that workbench. Need to get mah heard sorted sooner than later."

[Damon Void]

Void considered the numbers, how much he could squeeze a few more credits from him. The 600 offer wasn't bad and had quite a bit of leeway for a healthy profit, but there was always more money to be made. The real stopping point was when risk outweighed reward. Sure he could keep squeezing, look to get more out of the mark, but if he did that he risked running him off from any future business.

Always leave a backdoor.

The deliberation ended with the word 'tab' - a running total. 600 currently, and unless things changed dramatically, expected, but a tab meant continued business. There was profit here and an open door for more later. It's as win/win as the shoddy looking slicer was ever going to get.

"Deal." He said plainly. Stepping out from behind the counter the wiry hacker couldn't have looked more different than his new friend if he'd tried. At 6' and a rail thin 135 lbs. it left him with gaunt, sunken features. Dark eyes peering out from behind his red-tinted glasses, grabbing a long coat as he left his usual position. It made a metallic thunk as it's length slid across the counter, the insides lined with tightly constrained tools, tech and odds and ends. Each one in a place, and each place sewn into the coat in a way that kept it distressingly quiet despite the materials it hid.

"I've got a storage room a level down that you should be able to work from. It's not a lot, but I've got a chair and a bench set up for a few of my own projects I didn't get around to. I'll show you there."

He motioned to the door, indicating he expected his customer to exit first so he could lock up behind him.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

Little poser boy looked a little too pleased with himself as he grabbed his coat. The heavily metallic sound it made on impact with the counter made the situation all the more distressing. Ryloth was really wishing he had his own blaster with him, because chances were the lad had his own piece hidden in his coat. That all he knew he was being led into a storage locker full of bodies so he could be added to it. Drek! If his datajack wasn't fried this would have been a hilarious turn about for his would be murderer.

Nobody ever saw the drone until it was too late.

Now he was likely marching to his death, adjusting his jacket and making a show of patting the inside just out of sight. There was no blaster there, but the human didn't have to know that. Whatever he could do to stay alive long enough to fix the datajack. The new used port was tucked into his pocket. Once outside the shop his shades were fished off the collar of his shirt and pulled back over his eyes.

[Damon Void]

The slicer finished locking up and turned noticing the adjustments that the client made to his coat and frowned a bit, he really hoped the little squib hadn't set this whole thing up to rob him. He'd honestly been far too trusting with the shortstack, he'd almost thought of him like he was a person. Still if he attempted that Void had a few tricks up his sleeve, and more importantly a few favors he could call in if necessary. For now he'd try and ignore it, just go through with the transaction.


He smirked at the shades that were slipped onto the stout face. "Nice." He gave a nodding approval, adjusting his own spectacled face, before walking. "So - you been on Jovan long?" Small talk seemed like the 'correct' thing to do - even if he had very little experience with it.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Nope. Not plannin' on stayin' long neither. Just passin' through. Seeing a friend. Doing a few repairs."

The boy was fishing, and Ryloth was in no mood to reveal anything about himself. In his line of work the less he communicated the better. Anything he said could be twisted and used to break him. He doubted there was anyone on Jovan gunning for him. In fact, his friend, as he put it, was probably the only one here that knew who he is and what he is. That was her job, though. To know things. This little piss ant looked more the type to spread hurtful gossip, so best to give him as little ammo as possible.

[Damon Void]

'Just passing through' meant that he wanted to be sure the tab was settled before they were finished with each other. The 600 he'd been paid in crypto would cover everything so far, as well as any tools he needed to use at the locker, or odds and ends to fix his jack that he'd need to pull from the storage there. If he started getting too grabby in the locker that price would need to be adjusted.

"Shame." He said flatly. "It's a surprisingly nice little station." He got to the turbolift and motioned stumpy inside, before stepping in to push the button for one level down. "Name's Void, by the way." He continued with the attempt at small talk.

[Ryloth Grimhammer]

"Void? That yer slick darknet runner name?"

Nicknames were very common in his line of business. They were ultimately useless as anyone with enough resources is going to get to the bottom of who you are once you've crossed them; however it adds a few layers of anonymity that could protect you for awhile, and also gave you a title to anchor all your achievements to. Ryloth didn't have much use for such things anymore. His actual name had ended up becoming far more memorable than his runner alias. A kid like this, who's probably never stolen through a mega corp server room in the middle of the night in his life, had probably heard about that sort of thing and latched on to it.

There were worse nicknames. Like Short Circuit.

"Ah, I mean nothin' by it. Just a wee bit grumpy. I don't like havin' me chrome not workin'. Put's my tits on edge."

[Damon Void]

Void laughed, like genuinely laughed. It was deep and ended up in a cough. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually found something funny like that. Just the way he said darknet runner like he had him all figured out, or that he thought the slicer would use something so... drab.

"No. No it's not." he choked out through a mix of coughs and laughs before they finally died down. "It's my name. Damon Void."

"Besides, I wouldn't know anything about that sort of stuff." He turned to give him a heavy side eye, "I'm a legitimate business owner - that sort of thing is illegal. And I don't engage in anything illegal on Jovan." He said with an ever present grin as the doors of the turbolift opened and he stepped past a Cizerak security officer - who just narrowed her feline eyes at him in frustrated recognition. She got onto the lift and Void couldn't help but give a pleasant wave to the scowling cat as the doors closed.

"That anyone can prove at least."