Strictly Business
Title: Strictly Business
Author: MsLanna
Timeframe: about 34 BBY
Characters: Leila Durmon, Jango Fett
Keywords: Bounty Hunter, Assassin, Seedy Side
Summary: Leila Durmon, assassin specialised on unarmed murder, is hired to rescue the Daughter of Lord Graden. But he misapplied some details of the mission, starting with her having to cooperate with Jango Fett.
Notes: No romance, I promise.
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The private audience chamber of Lord Graden was not an agreeable place to be, Leila decided the moment she set foot into it. The room was small, sterile and reeking of arrogance backed with money. The carpet was impeccable, despite it's light grey colour, the white walls shimmered in the subdued light and pictures of the most expensive galactic artist were displayed in modest intervals.
The only furniture except a small side table displaying undoubtedly expensive liquors and crystal glasses was the huge desk of Lord Graden and the chair he reclined on. With his elbows on the armrests, he steepled his fingers and watched her approach closely over his fingertips.
Leila tried not to show how annoying this was to her. After all, the man was about to offer her good money for a job and she would not be picky, not with a sum like that. Lord Graden might not have the best reputation, but the amount of money he was willing to spend for his daughter seemed to know no bounds.
"Ah, Miss Durmon," he greeted her. His voice was carefully articulated, but Leila could not shake the impression of something oily or snakelike.
"Lord Graden," she return the greeting. "You asked for me?"
The room was screaming it at her, probably at every other visitor too: you have been cited here, and here you will stand and accept the verdict. The fact that she could not sit down reinforced that feeling. Leila decided to ignore it.
"You might have heard that my daughter has gone missing," Graden finally supplied.
"I have."
"It seems that the kidnapper is rather keen on keeping her and has decided, among other things, to surround her only with women."
"Unarmed women, I suppose?"
"You suppose right," Lord Graden said, seeming unperturbed by her interruption. "Which is exactly where you come into play." He lowered his hands. "Additionally, he chose to hide on a planet where women are more than less the property of men. Not that I object to the system in general, but in this case it makes him the rightful owner of my daughter. To that I do object."
"So I am to get her out." Leila stated flatly.
"Correct. I have already organised a transport."
"My ship-" she began.
"Will be completely safe under my personal protection," Graden interrupted her. "Besides, I have heard that it is rather unfit to accommodate more than one person for a longer trip. You will get it back untouched when you collect your payment."
The hard set of his mouth allowed no argument. Leila nodded, but the fact that she had to depend on somebody else for transport was not to her liking. "Is there anything else I should know?"
He squinted at her. "My think tank has also come up with a little helper that will not leave you completely without options. If you would just follow my assistant when you leave."
He waved his hand in a way that suggested she was actually leaving right now.
Again Leila nodded. The way he treated her did not agree with her much, but she was willing to humour him. And all that cost him were the thirty thousand he was offering. While she followed his assistant, Leila already made plans for several approaches.
Not much later, but exactly at the preconcerted time, Lord Graden activated his comm. And with no perceptible delay the picture appeared, showing the impenetrable mask of a Mandalorian helmet.
"I have acquired the resources you need, Hunter Fett," Lord Graden told him. You can pick up the new tool at four hundred standard time tomorrow. I will see to it that is reaches my private landing pad by then. You will, of course, have access."
The only reaction was an almost imperceptible nod. "Understood."
And the connection went blank again.
Leaning back in his chair, Graden steepled his fingers again, tapping his lips with the joined index fingers thoughtfully. The tacitness of the bounty hunter border too much on disrespect for his liking, but so far he had proven capable and trustworthy enough. Not to mention, very useful. His daughter had vanished almost three months ago now, but only Jango Fett had managed to locate her.
With a sigh, Lord Graden stood up. If he ever was to take steps against that man, it would not be now. Not until his daughter was safely back, and not before the hunter had most likely forgotten.
Leila was still grumbling when she entered Lord Graden's private landing pad. She had been forced though a complete beauty makeover, including hair dye, pedicure, hot wax and manicure. The last she understood. Though her nails did not look anything but orderly, they had actually been cut of short and then replaced by false nails. All except the one on her right little finger, which was bandaged as a precaution.
It made her a little uneasy to be restricted like that. Her body was her weapon and she needed little else. At least, the flight would not be long and the last fingernail would be applied soon enough. The probability that she'd have to fight on her way was small. Of that, she had also been assured.
Still she felt vulnerable in the new clothes. The white tunic and slacks were incredibly comfortable and would probably be little hindrance in a fight, but the skin-tight body glove she had to wear beneath it was a little too revealing. Apart from that is was also light grey and not of an imposing black.
The hangar was spacious and simple in a way that probably had cost millions to achieve. In it's middle already sat a ship which certainly did not look as if it belonged into the impeccable surroundings. It resemble on of those old-fashioned door handles she had seen in Lord Graden's estate. Only that this was far from polished.
The ramp was already lowered, but a soft hum told Leila that the engines were still running, ready for take-off within seconds. Seems, I'm in a hurry, she mused while she walked up the ramp.
The inside of the ship was dimly lit, and she did not have to go far before she met with a complete set of Mandalorian armour. She raised a brow at that, wondering what had made Graden send her a ride like that.
"Just leave it here and return," the filtered voice advised her.
"Leave what?" Leila demanded. He could not mean her satchel which only held some clothes to change and beauty articles. Neither could he refer to the special finger nail which had been custom made for her.
"Oh, right," she procured a data card from a hidden pocket and gave it to him. "Lord Graden said, you'd need this. How long will the journey take, and where am I to put my things?"
The gloved hand of the Mando closed over the datacard. "I work alone."
"Great, so do I." Leila shot back. "So we will not get into each other's way. Good plan. Graden seems to think this funny, we obviously don't. Let's get to business. I'm Leila Durmon."
She held out her hand, but the Mandalorian did not move.
"Great. In which case I'll start the ship now. You can go and argue with Graden if you like." Dropping her satchel in the corridor, Leila shoved past the armoured figure. She did not get a step behind him though, before his other hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
"So you can move." She arched a brow, stepping aside. "Good then, let's get moving."
"Jango Fett," his filtered voice came as he went past her.
"Enchante," Leila grumbled.
The cockpit had enough space to harbour one, so the assassin had to content herself with standing in the blast door. She was not sure if it was programmed to try and close even when somebody stood inside it, but the continuous bumps annoyed her even more than the fact that Graden had already hired a bounty hunter. No, that's not it, she thought. But he should have told me. Information is everything.
Jango Fett lifted his ship with practiced ease, and only a few moments later the ever similar patterns of hyperspace surrounded them.
"Eight hours," the Mando announced and Leila straightened up in the doorway. That would be more than enough time to work out a plan, have something to eat and get her last fingernail attached. The rest of the time would probably be spend trying to avoid each other. Somehow Leila doubted the ship was big enough for that.
It was clear that the ship had not been designed for more than one person and a few caught bounty heads. The only place one could kind of sit, was the galley, but the tiny table allowed only one, two persons would have it cosy indeed and Leila had no intention of getting closer to Jango Fett than her job required. So she had taken her food standing half in the corridor.
Avoiding each other was also, only an option if Leila decided to spend her time in the tract for prisoners. That she considered a disgrace and wondered how Graden believed that three could travel comfortably in this shoe box, when already two had problems. Maybe by having his daughter brought back like a prisoner he intended to teach her a lesson.
At least, the food was good. Which was probably the result of the years of living alone and finally getting fed up with the diet of roasted meat and scrambled eggs. Also, the fact that the galley was just big enough to accommodate one and thus offered the bounty hunter some privacy might have been a reason. The longer the cooking took, the longer he stayed alone.
Leila had given herself a tour of the vessel, which had taken about five minutes. And she had taken her time. Though a lot bigger than her Snakebite from the outside, the actual living quarters seemed tiny. Typically male, she thought. All engines and weapons, and just hope they never have to wine and dine somebody aboard.
Sometime between entering the galley and coming out again, the Mandalorian warrior had turned into a dark-haired man in his thirties and a bluish-grey jumpsuit. Considering his shape, Leila wondered where on this ship he had stashed away his personal gym. It was easy to mistake most of him for his armour, which was a good way to lead others into underestimating him. Maybe in his case there was more balance to helmet and head than the derogatory saying about Mandos suggested.
Her suspicion, that some of the living area was hidden, was confirmed when Fett led her into a small sitting room behind one of the wall panels. On the table laid a pad with a datacard of information about the social system and customs of Varavi Leila began to read, there was enough information to last her the rest of the journey.
Though Leila had no idea where to the Mando had vanished, her inner clock was soon getting annoyingly close to their arrival time. High time to plan the operation and fix a schedule. Finally, she just got up to at least fix her nail before the mission began. She had just opened her satchel and taken the carefully wrapped box out of it, when Jango Fett returned.
Wordlessly, he procured a small box of tools, sat down opposite of her and began to unwrap her little finger.
"And what do you think you're doing now," the assassin demanded to know. She did not dare pull back her hand, though. The nail bed had been carved out rather deep at the manicure.
"My job."
His hands were hard and rough, but unlike those of the women giving her the manicure, they were also warm. Leila appreciated that.
"And here I was, thinking they didn't give me directions with it because it was so easy." Indignantly she shook her head. "I don't think I like the way Lord Graden distributes information."
This enticed the incredible reaction of a whole shrug from the bounty hunter. Wit a frustrated sigh, Leila went along. Watching the delicate work of applying the glue and setting the nail just right, she wondered how well she would have done with only one hand and no experience at all. Not too well, she decided.
After Fett had sealed the nail and wrapped it up again tight, he handed her a document. "For your information."
Leila examined the old-fashioned flimsy in which she was legally proclaimed to be the property of a certain Darren Warit. At least she now knew under which name Fett would act. She hated having to piece all the information together, and promised herself to have a talk to Lord Graden before she ever took another commission from him.
"So how does it feel to own me," she wanted to know after she finished reading.
Fett glanced her up and down but said nothing.
"You don't believe I can be a beautiful, charming companion for any situation?"
"Charming?" He raised a brow.
"Oh, forget it, Mando," Leila huffed. "It's probably better for you that you don't see my charming side. It's reserved those I take terminal care of."
"You have one week to find Elida and bring her to the exit to the medics quarters," Fett told her. "I will be there."
"A week?" Leila echoed. "In that case you'd better hope that Mator Raad is either eye candy or impotent."
"The only woman whose safety and inviolacy I am paid to care for is Lord Graden's daughter."
Leila eyed him speculatingly. Purchasable - now, that was an idea.
"You cant afford me," he said, as if he had been reading her mind.
"You just wait and -"
"I will wait patiently," he interrupted her, "all the part of forever it will take you to amass the money."
Leila clamped her mouth shut and instead cursed the arrogant Mando in her head in all languages available to her. When she had finally finished, she had calmed down enough again to take up the conversation.
"So you already have time and place of the handover scheduled for me. How very considerate." She arched a brow. "And what in case I don't manage?"
"That will be your problem," he replied. "I will come once to the appointed place only once. Graden would not have hired you if you couldn't manage."
"You got that one right, Mando'a," Leila grumbled beat.
And that was that. The necessity to talk obviously stopped right there for Fett. He took the document from her hands and left. Only the changing noise of the engines told Leila that they were about to land. The assassin was sure that things were bound to become easier without the arrogant bounty hunter. And she would keep an eye open for the place where his lack of communication would be a punishable crime.
