Log:A Shady Recruitment
Alana Zee's home, and indeed her 'office', is a miserable hole of an apartment in the Noddreck building in the Corellian District of Nar Shaddaa. A building where no questions are asked or answered. It's not where she keeps most of her inventory; for that she has several boltholes and stashes, including in the abandoned upper stories of the building itself. And now she's trudging up the seventy-odd stories of the derelict stairwell (the elevators long since demised at these upper levels) to the rooftop to make a trade. The customers are waiting for her up there - humans both, a scrawny skinny fellow with a wispy beard, and a Rubeneque girl with long brown hair in a ponytail. The wind makes it difficult to hear what is being said from afar, but a trade is clearly under negotiation, the two strangers having bought with them a small black box, the contents of which glitter under the cloudy sky.
The night is dark, and so apparently are the dealings atop the Noddreck building. Raim Shah had been tailing a potential recruit for the newest organization to hit the streets of Nar Shaddaa. A secret organization home to thieves, smugglers, information brokers, and worse, Alana Zee had managed to catch the attention of the Syndicate. Maintaining a safe distance back from the woman, Raim walks along at an easy stride, careful to ensure that she has stepped out onto the roof before he moves for the doorway, pulling it open only a fraction of an inch and peering out into the night, watching how the woman handles her business.
Alana has her back to Raim. The other two are facing her. At one point Alana laughs, spreading her hands helplessly, but the clients are less than amused. But finally a price is agreed upon, and Alana hands over a bundle of credits that are carefully counted, Alana standing patiently. The box is given to her, and she turns to walk back to the stairwell.
That's when it all goes to shit.
The girl says sharply, the wind carrying the words to Alana and then to Raim: "OK, Zee, here's the deal. Give us the necklace back, and we'll let you walk." Her voice is harsh, and as she speaks Wispy Beard pulls a blaster and aims it one-handed, unprofessionally, at Alana's back. She sighs softly, a tired, resigned look on her face aimed at nobody in particular - she hasn't seen Raim - and turns to face them. "This is not how you do business, Ollette," she says blandly.
Raim nods his head slowly, watching the deal from the distance that separates him from the trio of Alana Zee and the two other thugs. He seems pleased with the woman's performance, even crossing his arms over his chest and leaning casually against the wall as Alana turns from the pair to start walking back with her loot. It is when the deal goes south, that the Chiss seems to become decidedly more interested. As the blaster is drawn and pointed at the woman, so too does Raim's blaster slip from it's holster at his hip. As Alana turns back to them, and they still don't drop the blaster, Raim pulls the door open wider and steps into the night. His blue skinned face is cold as ice in the darkness of the rooftop. He levels his own blaster without a second thought, the barrel aimed for the man with the gun and calmly squeezes the trigger. The red blast lights the night sky as it whizzes past Alana to slam into the blaster wielding man's chest.
Wispy Beard's mouth is open in shock as the bolt sears into his chest cavity, sizzling his heart and lungs and killing him almost instantly. He drops the blaster and crashes over backwards, his head striking a protruding stanchion with a sickening sound; if the blaster didn't kill him, the fall did. The plump girl stares, eyes widening in shock, and she makes a little keening wail, hands coming up to her chest to clutch herself. But Alana moves fast. She darts across the few yards that separate her from the girl, one arm around her neck, and spins round her to come up with the girl as a shield against the mysterious gunman. A vibroknife is drawn, held up against Ollette's throat, and her head yanked back by her ponytail. "Show yourself!" Alana yells, "or I slit her throat!" The girl starts to squeal, "No! No! Take the money! I'll do anything!", to add to the confusion.
The blue skinned Chiss gunman steps further out from the doorway. His blaster is still in hand, though it is now hanging from the end of his arm, barrel pointed toward the floor. He walks out as if without a care in the world to stand before Alana and her hostage. He shows the hostage no attention what so ever, his red glowing eyes, which seem all the brighter in the darkness of the night, having only attention for Alana Zee. "I have been watching you Alana Zee..." he says, his voice a low measured rumble that drifts across the darkness like a boulder rolling down a mountain.
"Shut up!" Alana Zee snaps, pressing the humming vibrodagger against Ollette's throat. She shuts up rapidly, trying not to breathe or swallow, the blade tracing a faint line of red. The order is clearly addressed to the girl, not to the Chiss, who she examines warily. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she demands. She's small, shorter and considerably thinner than the girl she's holding hostage. "Did you shoot this asshole?" She jerks her head at Wispy Beard's twitching corpse.
Raising a dark brow, the red eyed fellow asks simply, "Do you see anyone else on this rooftop with a blaster? I don't know how many others you think are watching over you to keep... scum like that from ruining your deals." He makes no move to raise his blaster against the woman, nor does he holster it. He allows a silence to stretch between the two as he stares hard at Alana, and then finally he asks, "Are you going to do anything with that, there? Or is it just for show?" It is obvious he is referring to the woman and the thin line of blood that stretches across her neck from that vibrodagger.
Alana Zee smiles. It's not a pleasant smile. She steps round Ollette (putting her back to Raim - it's a confident gesture) and, fingers wrapping round the plump girl's hair, kisses her hard on the lips. The girl's eyes fasten on Raim, confused. And then Alana drives the vibrodagger into her chest under her left breast, slicing it from side to side. Olette's eyes go very wide, and she lets out a mewl that turns to a gurgling death-rattle as she sinks to her knees, then topples backwards, flopping like a beached fish a few times before becoming still. Stepping around the spreading pool of urine and blood, Alana Zee fishes what used to be her own credits from the girl's pockets, then continues stripping the still-warm corpse of jewellery. Ollette's eyes stare up at the sky, unblinking.
If Alana Zee were to turn around to look at Raim once more, she would see that his blaster is holstered once more and he has backed over to sit on the edge of the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and he watches the woman loot the corpse for a few moments in silence. After a few moments he finally clears his throat and says, "So come, join me. We have to talk, you and I. My name is Raim Shah, and as I said earlier, I have been watching you."
The young fence moves over to sit beside Raim, her features sharp and appraising. "Hello, Raim Shah. My name is Alana Zee, but you already appear to know far more about me than I know about you. What do you want of me?" She sets down the credits she regained, plus the jewellery, on the wall between them. A few rings, some earrings, a belly-button dangly still with a little blood on it. They're laid out carefully half-way between her and Raim.
Raim watches this for a few moments, even leaning over and looking at the loot she has acquired. He doesn't move to take it, however, and after he has taken a mental inventory of what she acquired this evening, his eyes slowly shift back upward to Alana. "You have caught the eye of a certain organization here on Nar Shaddaa. A secret one, to be exact. We aren't like the Waywards, or the Hutts... not near as heavy handed, though we may do work for either if the Credits are there. I have been following you over the past few days, getting a feel for you... deciding for myself if you are truly worth our time." Alana Zee regards him with a level gaze. "Are you inviting me in, or warning me off? I've always been an independent operator." She pauses, then says politely, "Of course, sometimes I'm in need of backup, as tonight proved. And I haven't thanked you for blasting that sonofabitch. Remind me to kill the contact that set me up with them, too," she adds viciously.
Considering this latest bit from the woman, the Chiss shrugs his shoulders and says, "Well that depends on you. We require a good deal from our members. You will work under me, specifically within the organization. We are a secret organization, with no ties to any other on the Smuggler's Moon and we intend on keeping it that way. You will tell no one that you are a member, or who any of the other members are. If we find out that you have, we kill you." He gestures over toward where the man he gunned down is. "I am one of three leaders within the group. I deal specifically in smuggling, fencing stolen goods, and Black Market dealings, which you can see would be one of the reasons you caught our eye. Also, should you choose to join us, you will owe the Syndicate fifteen percent of your gross for any illegal activities you perform while under our banner."
"Fifteen percent? Is that negotiable?" Alana's eyes flicker with interest; she's known for her haggling abilities, when she's not having blasters pointed at her by wispy-bearded idiots. "And what do I get in return for fifteen percent and my silence? What, aside from extra business?" she asks sharply.
Raim shakes his head, "Non-negotiable. Fifteen percent is the cost of membership, top to bottom. I pay fifteen percent myself, and I am at the top." He smirks as the woman is already on to what she will get from the deal. Gesturing toward the dead man who was shot through the heart moments before, "Security, for one... how do you think that deal would have turned out, had I not been there? You will gain the assistance of the entire organization, a brotherhood of like minded professionals. You will gain a hideout away from home, and possibly more. Also, there are of course advancement opportunities if you can prove yourself useful to us, above the average member."
Alana Zee thinks on her feet, and thinks quickly. She gives a quick nod, and offers her hand to seal the deal. "I'm in," she says simply. "Fifteen percent it is." She glances down at the jewellery. "Of the gross for illegal activities performed under our banner. Which doesn't include tonight's work, since I wasn't technically employed by you at the time," she says innocently. "But...if you would accept a payment in recognition of your professional services with a blaster prior to my employment, I would be more than happy to oblige."
Shaking his head, Raim extends his own hand to clasp that of Alana Zee's. His grip is firm as he shakes her hand and then rumbles aloud, "Keep your haul. I was simply coming to watch your deal and possibly to recruit you, not to take your earnings. If I had wanted that, I would have shot you down as well and taken it all, not split it with you." He smiles in a way that is both filled with humor and the promise that he would do exactly that if their interests were not the same. "Our hideout is beneath the Art Gallery that just opened in this District. The Twi'lek girl who runs the place for us does not know what we do. She is our public face, our mask of innocence and it must stay that way, so when you enter you must not mention any criminal activities to her. Also..." His eyes move down her body, taking her in unashamedly and quite openly. "We are a... well to do organization and it is expected for you to dress as such when at the Art Gallery at least. It is a means of separating our public selves from the lives we actually lead. Is this understood?"
Alana Zee swallows. Threats if she spills the secrets of the organization she can handle. Requests to dress nicely are harder to stomach. But she moistens her lips and nods fractionally. "I'll get something nice to wear when I come to the Art Gallery. How often do you expect me to be there? I mean, most of my business will still come to me here, in the Noddreck. And this is not a place to be dressed well in."
Nodding his head, Raim says, "When you are in the field, you can dress as you are, of course. I know the need to dress for your job. But when you come to the Gallery, dress nice. You seem like you can be a pretty girl, live up to it." As for the other part of her question, Raim says, "I expect you to come by there as often as you can. That is where I will assign you jobs at, as well as where you will deposit your fifteen percent. Not to mention, you should find friends within our ranks.”
Alana Zee smiles a cheerful smile. "Thank you!" She scoops up and pockets the credits and jewellery. "I'm going to deal with the idiot contact who set me up. Did you want to come? I'm going to kill him and anyone with him," she says bluntly. "If you can't come, that's fine too." She may be small, but there's a vicious intensity in her eyes.
Jayla Shane (Jay) pages: Doesn't look like the Hutts are solvent anymore. Raim stands to his feet and says, "I must return to the Gallery and collect another name for a possible recruit, or I would. If you think that you will need backup, seek us out and I will either come with you myself, or we will dispatch someone to assist you."
Alana Zee rises as well, a good head shorter than he. "I'll be fine on my own," she says confidently. "Thank you for the assist. I'll see you at the Gallery when I've been clothes-shopping." She glances at Ollette's body, perhaps speculating about the possibility of stealing her jacket, but it's now soaked with blood. "Take care, Raim."