A Fistful of Credits [Mixo - A Few Years Ago]
Posted: Mon Jun 05, 2017 4:03 pmThree Years Ago, on the Planet Socorro...
"You've got a lot of nerve coming here..." A human male looked up from his booth, chomping a large cigarra. He sported a few days worth of stubble, and a wide brimmed hat. Across the table from him, sat Durasay. A brand new shiner over his right eye. Hair roughed up from what looked to have been a scuffle with the man's thugs. "Well, you have a lot of nerve trying to frighten that town with your gang." Durasay laughed a bit, his posture confident and secure, even with the two guards behind him.
The man inhaled deeply from the cigarra, the end flaring up as he breathed in deeply, before exhaling a cloud of smoke. It seemed to linger around the man. His hair was graying at the temples, the length just past his ears. "So, you're the one they sent then, a... Negotiator?" He raised his eyebrows, his hand on the table, with a sawed off blaster rifle nearby. "Just some Pantoran who thinks they can tell me how to run my operation?" The man laughed heartily, his entourage joining in.
Durasay never let his smile leave his face. "Yes. I'm the one they sent. Heard you've killed a few other people who've come by, trying to be... lawmen? Is that really how you want to be viewed, big criminal in a teeny tiny pond?" Raising an eyebrow, he reached forwards, the guards all going to their holsters.
Mixo grabbed a bottle of liquor, sniffing it before pouring himself a glass. "Corellian Brandy, this far out? Must have cost an arm and a leg." He chuckled, noting the other man's cybernetics. "Listen here, Tybeeno, I've been hired to shoot you." He said it without allowing the man to a moment to respond. "Frankly, that's not what I like doing. It's messy, it's loud, and it's got such long term detriments for a short term gain." The other man, Tybeeno sneered at him, looking at Durasay with incredulous eyes. "You've got a pair of jubba fruit, thinking you can just say that in my establishment, and think you can just walk out alive..."
Blasters were drawn, pointing at Durasay, as he sat there, enjoying the drink. Leaning back in the chair, he breathed in, slowly taking into account the situation. "Especially since that just leaves a power vacuum. Which means someone worse comes along, and these people's problems get worse." Setting the glass down, he tilted his head, making eye contact with his opponent. "Look, we're all friends here, right?" As he spoke he tried to focus on happy, calming thoughts. The kind that let cooler heads prevail, and talks to begin anew. A wry smile on his face, as Tybeeno went from a sneer to something a bit more... relaxed. His men slowly lowering their blasters as the crime boss raised his hand.
"Here's the thing. You're not gonna be able to get much more out of the town. They live in fear, they don't work, and soon, they start bleeding out credits before it become a ghost town. Then you're left with nothing, am I right, Tybeeno?" Durasay continued, looking around at the gang. Only three others inside, one of them had to be Tybeeno's second. "That's not good for business, and not good for you." He tut tutted as he finished, before pouring himself another glass of the brandy. "Next thing you know, you're gang starts getting hungry, and they start tearing themselves apart from the inside, thinking you can't lead them. And all you worked for, becomes dust."
The man looked at Durasay, still feeling that relaxing way as Durasay spoke. "Alright... I'm listening. What are you proposing." Mixo knew he had his man. Well, woman, really. A rather tall, Falleen woman behind the booth, to stage left. She was listening in with far more interest than the others. The smile disappeared from Durasay's face. "Pirates come through this sector pretty frequently, right? Always have their own ill-gotten goods. An enterprising individual such as yourself..." his eyes flicked up to the woman, meeting her own violet ones for the briefest of moments, before returning down to Tybeeno. "... Could make a pretty good stack of chips if they gambled on taking them down. Leave that poor settlement of miners alone to their swamplands. Who knows, maybe even make yourself a nice little reputation as a hero... of the people."
The man leaned back in his booth, drawing the cigarra from his mouth, flicking the ash from it. Musing as he rubbed his chin, he tilted his face towards the pantoran. "And you. What do you get out of this? You said you were hired to shoot me." Durasay laughed, and then shrugged, his shoulders raising. "I get to know that I helped the people of Sundown Station, helped make a better place for the downtrodden, and another entrepreneur get on their feet." Again, he flicked his gaze to the woman, and she seemed to be following along.
"Well, I'll consider it... which means I'm gonna be generous to you. You've got fifteen seconds to walk out of this bar alive. And maybe you won't get shot in the ba..." Tybeeno's eyes went wide, as Durasay's narrowed. The sound of a blaster going off, as the man dropped forwards, smoke trailing from his cigarra as it hit the table... and the wound in his gut. The other two guards raised their blasters at Mixo, before a sonorous voice called out. "Stop!"
The woman moved from behind the booth, looking down at the dead body. "I thought you said you didn't want to shoot him." She raised a manicured brow to the pantoran, as he placed his blaster on the table. "I didn't want to. But I also knew he wasn't going to take the deal. He's lazy. I could tell by the way he didn't comb his hair, and the way he chomped on that cigarra. Those people weren't going to know peace." He sighed, standing up, dusting his coat off. "But you, you know when opportunity comes along. And you know that those people aren't worth your trouble." Narrowing his eyes at the woman. "Don't make me come back here. I've given you the lead on new opportunity. Don't be lazy." Slowly, he picked up his blaster, and holstered it, before covering it with his jacket.
The woman brought a booted heel up, pushing Tybeeno's dead body from the chair, letting it slump to the ground. She exuded an extreme presence, her two new guards seemingly calming themselves. "Tell Sundown Station that Tybeeno's Dead, and they won't have any more problems with us. You were right... this is a time for enterprising individuals." Her lips curled, as she grabbed her own glass of brandy. Durasay grabbed his again, pouring another round.
"To bold action, and better rewards." They drank, and Durasay made his leave.
-------
"He's really gone?" The old man looked up at Durasay, fumbling with the brim of his hat. Around him, various colonists and other settlers gathered in the meeting room.
"You won't have anymore problems with Tybeeno, or his gang. His cohort, Fas'ima, has taken control. She'll be taking them off world. They've got bigger fish to fry." Durasay spoke calmly, a jubba fruit in his hand with a bite taken from it. The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Well, I suppose the bounty is yours then..." He walked to the desk, pulling out the envelope with the credits.
"Keep it, old man." Durasay shook his head, before turning to walk away. "Just.... lead full lives." With that, he walked out the door.
Justice had been served, rights had been wronged, and a town set free. That's all he needed at that moment.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming here..." A human male looked up from his booth, chomping a large cigarra. He sported a few days worth of stubble, and a wide brimmed hat. Across the table from him, sat Durasay. A brand new shiner over his right eye. Hair roughed up from what looked to have been a scuffle with the man's thugs. "Well, you have a lot of nerve trying to frighten that town with your gang." Durasay laughed a bit, his posture confident and secure, even with the two guards behind him.
The man inhaled deeply from the cigarra, the end flaring up as he breathed in deeply, before exhaling a cloud of smoke. It seemed to linger around the man. His hair was graying at the temples, the length just past his ears. "So, you're the one they sent then, a... Negotiator?" He raised his eyebrows, his hand on the table, with a sawed off blaster rifle nearby. "Just some Pantoran who thinks they can tell me how to run my operation?" The man laughed heartily, his entourage joining in.
Durasay never let his smile leave his face. "Yes. I'm the one they sent. Heard you've killed a few other people who've come by, trying to be... lawmen? Is that really how you want to be viewed, big criminal in a teeny tiny pond?" Raising an eyebrow, he reached forwards, the guards all going to their holsters.
Mixo grabbed a bottle of liquor, sniffing it before pouring himself a glass. "Corellian Brandy, this far out? Must have cost an arm and a leg." He chuckled, noting the other man's cybernetics. "Listen here, Tybeeno, I've been hired to shoot you." He said it without allowing the man to a moment to respond. "Frankly, that's not what I like doing. It's messy, it's loud, and it's got such long term detriments for a short term gain." The other man, Tybeeno sneered at him, looking at Durasay with incredulous eyes. "You've got a pair of jubba fruit, thinking you can just say that in my establishment, and think you can just walk out alive..."
Blasters were drawn, pointing at Durasay, as he sat there, enjoying the drink. Leaning back in the chair, he breathed in, slowly taking into account the situation. "Especially since that just leaves a power vacuum. Which means someone worse comes along, and these people's problems get worse." Setting the glass down, he tilted his head, making eye contact with his opponent. "Look, we're all friends here, right?" As he spoke he tried to focus on happy, calming thoughts. The kind that let cooler heads prevail, and talks to begin anew. A wry smile on his face, as Tybeeno went from a sneer to something a bit more... relaxed. His men slowly lowering their blasters as the crime boss raised his hand.
"Here's the thing. You're not gonna be able to get much more out of the town. They live in fear, they don't work, and soon, they start bleeding out credits before it become a ghost town. Then you're left with nothing, am I right, Tybeeno?" Durasay continued, looking around at the gang. Only three others inside, one of them had to be Tybeeno's second. "That's not good for business, and not good for you." He tut tutted as he finished, before pouring himself another glass of the brandy. "Next thing you know, you're gang starts getting hungry, and they start tearing themselves apart from the inside, thinking you can't lead them. And all you worked for, becomes dust."
The man looked at Durasay, still feeling that relaxing way as Durasay spoke. "Alright... I'm listening. What are you proposing." Mixo knew he had his man. Well, woman, really. A rather tall, Falleen woman behind the booth, to stage left. She was listening in with far more interest than the others. The smile disappeared from Durasay's face. "Pirates come through this sector pretty frequently, right? Always have their own ill-gotten goods. An enterprising individual such as yourself..." his eyes flicked up to the woman, meeting her own violet ones for the briefest of moments, before returning down to Tybeeno. "... Could make a pretty good stack of chips if they gambled on taking them down. Leave that poor settlement of miners alone to their swamplands. Who knows, maybe even make yourself a nice little reputation as a hero... of the people."
The man leaned back in his booth, drawing the cigarra from his mouth, flicking the ash from it. Musing as he rubbed his chin, he tilted his face towards the pantoran. "And you. What do you get out of this? You said you were hired to shoot me." Durasay laughed, and then shrugged, his shoulders raising. "I get to know that I helped the people of Sundown Station, helped make a better place for the downtrodden, and another entrepreneur get on their feet." Again, he flicked his gaze to the woman, and she seemed to be following along.
"Well, I'll consider it... which means I'm gonna be generous to you. You've got fifteen seconds to walk out of this bar alive. And maybe you won't get shot in the ba..." Tybeeno's eyes went wide, as Durasay's narrowed. The sound of a blaster going off, as the man dropped forwards, smoke trailing from his cigarra as it hit the table... and the wound in his gut. The other two guards raised their blasters at Mixo, before a sonorous voice called out. "Stop!"
The woman moved from behind the booth, looking down at the dead body. "I thought you said you didn't want to shoot him." She raised a manicured brow to the pantoran, as he placed his blaster on the table. "I didn't want to. But I also knew he wasn't going to take the deal. He's lazy. I could tell by the way he didn't comb his hair, and the way he chomped on that cigarra. Those people weren't going to know peace." He sighed, standing up, dusting his coat off. "But you, you know when opportunity comes along. And you know that those people aren't worth your trouble." Narrowing his eyes at the woman. "Don't make me come back here. I've given you the lead on new opportunity. Don't be lazy." Slowly, he picked up his blaster, and holstered it, before covering it with his jacket.
The woman brought a booted heel up, pushing Tybeeno's dead body from the chair, letting it slump to the ground. She exuded an extreme presence, her two new guards seemingly calming themselves. "Tell Sundown Station that Tybeeno's Dead, and they won't have any more problems with us. You were right... this is a time for enterprising individuals." Her lips curled, as she grabbed her own glass of brandy. Durasay grabbed his again, pouring another round.
"To bold action, and better rewards." They drank, and Durasay made his leave.
-------
"He's really gone?" The old man looked up at Durasay, fumbling with the brim of his hat. Around him, various colonists and other settlers gathered in the meeting room.
"You won't have anymore problems with Tybeeno, or his gang. His cohort, Fas'ima, has taken control. She'll be taking them off world. They've got bigger fish to fry." Durasay spoke calmly, a jubba fruit in his hand with a bite taken from it. The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Well, I suppose the bounty is yours then..." He walked to the desk, pulling out the envelope with the credits.
"Keep it, old man." Durasay shook his head, before turning to walk away. "Just.... lead full lives." With that, he walked out the door.
Justice had been served, rights had been wronged, and a town set free. That's all he needed at that moment.