Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens, Star Wars: The Clone Wars or any of the characters or settings therein. No money is being made from this work of fanfiction.

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"So let's get this straight, you want me to hunt down your greatest enemy... and throw a bucket of water over him."

"Yeah, that's right." The man calling himself Duke Ligur gave a leering grin. ""I 'eard you was the best in the business."

In his long and bloody career Cad Bane had received some pretty strange job offers: some trivial, some fiendishly difficult and some that wouldn't be out of place in an adult holomovie. This however was the oddest yet.

Still, a paying job was a paying job; even if it wasn't the sort of thing you'd want your fellow bounty hunters to find out about.

"You realise I'll be charging twice my usual fee."

Duke Ligur shrugged. "Don't matter to me."

"And I want half up front."

"Fair enough." The man made a complicated gesture with his left hand and, as if by magic, a stack of credit chips materialised on the grubby hotel room's single nightstand.

Bane blinked, stared and then picked up one of the chips. It was the genuine article.

"Son, you've got yourself a deal."

-0-

As he sidled out into the gloom of lower level Coruscant, Ligur took a moment to enjoy the foetid atmosphere. It was so seedy, so unsavoury, so reeking with perversion and despair. He was already getting ideas for the next redecorating of his lair in Dis. Neon wasn't usually his thing, but right now he could see why some of the more fashion forward Under Dukes were fond of little touches here and there.

He was so taken with the scene that he almost didn't notice the tall, thin form detach itself from the shadows.

"Go well, did it?"

Ligur grinned his horrible grin. "Bastard snake won't know what's hit him." Then he recalled Hastur's primary reason for venturing through the transdimensional portal. "You find your brat?"

Hastur's beam was even more horrible than Ligur's. "Grown a bit bigger than I thought she'd 'ave." He pointed to the scorch marks that were currently covering his grubby mack. "Top notch lurker though: shot me thirty-seven times before I even knew she was there." Then, before Ligur could pass comment, Hastur gestured to a second tall, thin figure in the shadows that his partner in grime wouldn't have spotted without looking very closely and cleared his throat.

"Aurra, come and meet your Uncle Ligur."

-o0O0o-

A/N: I was re-reading some of my older Good Omens fanfic the other day and I couldn't resist the urge to write this little drabble. I'm now also picturing Crowley, Aziraphale engaging in a massive drinking binge with Hondo Ohnaka (who just doesn't understand why the spice-spiked ale only seems to be having a minimal effect).