Why is it that shady dealings always seem to take place in poorly lit places? Hawke couldn't help but wonder as he stepped out onto the flight deck.

The bay was dark, and the landing lights gave it an eerie glow. The few, flickering low-output lights didn't do much to brighten up the atmosphere, but they did at least provide enough light to make out Vaelin Kosh's face as the man approached.

When it came down to it, Kosh was a lackey; an errand boy for another man named Narrus, who cut the checks. But Kosh had been the one to contact him, so Hawke had resigned himself to tolerating the man, despite his gut instinct to put a blaster bolt in the man's head/chest and call it a day. That was the nature of the business, though. Good, honest people did not put out the high paying jobs. Pity.

Kosh, of course, didn't come alone. Behind him trailed a small entourage of stern faced individuals. Even from a distance, it wasn't hard to tell they were just hired hands who happened to be handed guns. No doubt their set jaws and clenched teeth were meant to seem gritty and hardened, but Hawke sensed how frayed their nerves really were. Nobody much cared for bounty hunters.

The party sauntered up to Hawke; Kosh wielding a smile that seemed to slither across his face and the band of thugs resting their hands near their blasters and side arms. Hawke ignored Kosh's greeting and stared at him, then each of the hired guns in turn, unblinkingly. The action had no merit in itself: he wasn't sizing up the guns or reading their fears, just feeling the level of discomfort rise. Hawke had learned that intimidation was an easy card to play. Setting everyone else off balance was an advantage that cost nearly nothing to gain. Often enough, Hawke's reputation for being a deadly killer did his work for him, and if that didn't work, his reputation for being a little crazy would suffice.

After the group seemed sufficiently unsettled, Hawke turned to Kosh with a single word.

"Mark?"

"Yes, you see," Kosh drew a deep breath as if to launch into a formal speech. "It is of a rather delicate nature; there are more detailed instructions to be conveyed when we meet formally tomorrow - "

That was all Hawke needed to get the point so he walked past Kosh. "Well, welcome to Nar Shaddaa." Kosh grumbled. "I'll have my man contact you about arrangements."

Hawke had to smother a smile as he walked away. He always enjoyed this part of the game. It was a mind game, a series of bluffs and imaginary bets, wagering on who would actually be willing to play when the uglier game began. He wondered who the other potential candidates were this time. For what they were offering to pay, there was certain to be plenty of competition.

Nar Shaddaa was a typical cesspool of a city-planet. Hawke had always loathed the idea of so many people occupying such a small place. A giant city covering a whole moon was bad enough, but then building another on top of that one, then another, and another? On this level of Nar Shaddaa, you could walk for days and never even see the sky. How many layers of steel and concrete could one little moon take?

This particular landing bay was only five levels down, and it already showed the signs of neglect and deterioration that the older levels inevitably wore over time. It could have been far worse though, there were still levels below them that made this one look like a thriving oasis. Still, those floors might have been safer. Folks down there could hardly afford to eat, let alone get their hands on a blaster. Here, it was just slummy enough to attract the dangerous kind. It had cantinas, clubs, dealers of this sort and that, brothels, and even a miniature slave market all just a short ride from where he stood. A poor lure for a legitimate businessman or trader certainly, but for those who had a knack for profiting off of others' misfortune, it was a gold mine. A natural hive for all sorts of scum and villainy, he mused.

Hawke parked himself in a nearby cantina, figuring it was as good a place to start as any. There really wasn't any better place to get up to speed on the local happenings, especially if you were willing to part with a few credits. He was curious to know anything about what Kosh or his employer might have lost that they were willing to pay so much to get back, but more importantly, he needed to know who else was in town that might also be looking to take the job.

Bounty hunter had an inspiring ring to it, but few people really understood how true to the point the term was. It was always a hunt. A hunt for information, for a trail, for the mark, but none of that was typically ever hard or dangerous. The dangerous part was the other hunters.

Hawke ordered a drink and asked around a bit. He thought about ordering something to eat, but changed his mind when he couldn't identify the last thing he saw served to a patron. For the most part, he got the answers he was expecting.

"I don't pay much mind."

"A lot of new faces, couldn't tell you any names."

"It's a big city, everyone is a new face to me."

A few people just shook their heads and declined speaking altogether, especially when he used the name Narrus. Not all too shocking, but unfortunate.

Eventually, a man approached his table and stood, waiting for Hawke to look up from his drink. When he didn't, the man sat down at the table and began removing his gloves.

"I overheard you asking questions," the man said assuming that the statement was more likely to warrant a reply. The one he got was Hawke's eyes flicking up from his cup.

The man was at ease, confident and sturdy in how he carried himself, so Hawke didn't bother with the intense stare that he normally wore to put people off. Instead he casually looked the man over. He was ex-military from his grooming and posture, dressed in similar garb to Kosh's, though more reserved and cut for ease of movement, and wearing a side arm openly for anyone to see.

"And I take it you have answers?" Hawke asked flatly.

"Of a sort, but only those I have been instructed to give." The man set his gloves on the table and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small key card. "You would, of course, have received this earlier, had you not walked off to skulk in a bar as soon as you arrived."

Hawke mentally smacked his forehead. That would have been a useful thing to get from Kosh. He covered his annoyance with typical hunter arrogance.

"It was a boring speech. And I was planning on finding my own accommodations. Besides, I couldn't wait to get out into the city. Nar Shaddaa's bar scene has quite a reputation at this end of the galaxy."

"I see." said the man, after a pause just long enough to convey his skepticism. "No, you have lodging for the night at the Vaelin Spire..."

"Of course he would name the building after himself," Hawke snorted. The man ignored him.

"...where you will be accommodated until you meet with Vaelin Kosh in the mourning. The details of your markare to be conveyed to you then."

"Hmm, tell me..." Hawke paused for the man's name.

"Carsul."

"Tell me, Carsul, how many bounty hunters will Kosh be keeping in his fine home for the night?"

Carsul tensed as if it were a sore point with him. Hawke suspected the man had some sort of security duty related to Kosh. The theory seemed sound.

"Vaelin Kosh plays host to any number of guests on any given night. The numbers vary."

"I hope he didn't invite too many emissaries and officials for the bounty hunter sleepover. I think our interests may clash."

"I'm certain they would," Carsul said as he stood. He set the key card on the table and began pulling his gloves back on. "Vaelin Kosh very much enjoys playing host, I wouldn't keep him waiting long." And with that, he left Hawke alone at his table.

A tower full of bounty hunters all about to go after the same mark. Seemed like a rather terrible idea...or a very clever one. Most likely some of them would kill each other off before they went after the mark. But what did Kosh gain from that? He only had to pay one person no matter how many went after it, so why would he want to limit the number of bounty hunters pursuing it?

He mulled over the question for a few moments when a woman approached his table. Again he didn't bother to look up, he could tell more about a person typically from just below their knees than they could looking at his face. Her shoes, which put comfort first and style second, were well worn, and she fidgeted slightly. Had Hawke actually looked up, he would have also noticed quite plainly that it was a serving girl of the cantina and she was in a bit of a hurry to get him to take his drink.

When he realized this, he apologized reflexively and gestured for her to set it on the table before belatedly remembering...

"Wait, I didn't order a drink," he said eyeing her suspiciously.

"No, it's from the man over by the bar. The Sullustan."

The woman walked away hurriedly after that, either to avoid any more questions or just to get on with work.

Hawke took his new drink and made his way over to the bar where he sat down on the empty stool next to the Sullustan. He almost laughed aloud when he finally recognized him. Most Sullustans looked very much alike to him, but the port behind his ear for attaching mods was a pretty solid giveaway.

"Well if it isn't Gunshy Geneb! I wouldn't think you'd be throwing in your lot on this bantha ride."

"Fellow has to make a living," Geneb said as he took a swallow from his cup.

Hawke couldn't argue that point, especially when it was Hawke himself that made away with one of the marks Geneb had been about to claim for himself almost a year ago.

Geneb Marhuun was a fair sort for a person, but he was a downright saint compared to most of their peers. Frankly, it was hard to think of him in the same category as the rest of the disreputable characters that made up the bulk of bounty hunters. Geneb was more of a...forceful retriever. His skills as a pilot and a marksmen were second to nearly none, and for that he was respected, but it was also well known that he didn't like killing and resorted to it only if there was no other choice. Some people assumed he just didn't have the gall for it. But Hawke knew better.

The last time they met, Hawke made off with the mark that the Sullustan was after. Geneb chased him for nearly two days. It was an intense flight, but in the end, it was rather plain that Geneb was the better pilot. Gunshy Geneb could have shot him down half a dozen times. Yet all Hawke's ship suffered were a few char marks. In the end, Geneb let him go.

Hawke was so baffled by this that he did a good deal of digging to unearth his story. What he found was quite contrary to what most people believed: Gunshy Geneb wasn't gun shy at all. On the contrary, he had been a soldier for most of his adult life, and held a record for single man fighter kills. Gunshy Geneb had pulled the trigger that ended more lives than most people would ever be able to claim.

Apparently, he took something from that. Whether it just made him lose the taste for killing, or gave him some kind of criteria to justify it, Hawke had no idea. But he did conclude that Geneb Marhuun's skills were not to be underestimated, even if his motives remained a mystery.

Hawke nodded in agreement as he raised his glass toward the Sullustan, acknowledging his gift.

"Yeah, I don't want to try and put you off of this mark or anything, since that wouldn't be very sporting. But five-hundred grand creds? This one is going to be bloody, one way or another."

"Most likely." was all Geneb said, then held up a small key card, identical to the one he had been given.

"How many of those do you figure got given out?" Hawke asked, trying to seem more amused than concerned.

"Your guess is as good as mine. How many bounty hunters can you think of that would go for a five hundred thousand credit mark?"

Hawke laughed and shook his head.

"Literally everyone I know, except perhaps the waitress over there, but then again, we just met. Five hundred thousand credits would make up for a lot of lousy tippers."

Geneb leaned over the bar and looked at the young woman.

"Nope, she seems like she would have the good sense to stay away from that kind of money...and the kind of people that would go chasing it."

"Yeah," Hawke mused aloud as his gaze followed Geneb's. "It's a shame more people don't have her good sense."

The Sullustan drained his cup and rose from his stool.

"See you at the Spire." was the last he said as he walked away toward the cantina exit.