Disclaimer: The Star Wars universe belongs to George Lucas, I own none of the characters or settings to be found herein. No profit is being made from this work of fanfiction.

A/N: Started this one a while ago and decided to pick it up again a couple of days ago. It'll be the first instalment of a four part arc.

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Cad Bane drained his glass and surveyed his surroundings.

Dim lights, gaudy hangings, shopworn decor, shopworn working girls and fresh blood from at least seven different species on the boards; all of it enveloped in a swirling fug of spice smoke. There were times when it felt almost as if he was living from dive bar to dive bar, with protracted intermissions of blaster fire and bounty taking to break up the tedium.

It was life. He'd chosen it. But there were moments – usually those that came at the point just before full blown intoxication set in – when it irked him.

More credits to my name dan a Banking Clan executive and I'm still drinkin' with de dregs.

It was the price you paid, of course. No denying that. When you were in his line of work you needed to keep your ear to the ground; and it was places like this where the floor talked loudest.

He reached for the bottle of Corellian brandy on the table and scowled when he found it to be nine-tenths empty. As he gestured for one of the less haggard Togrutan serving girls to bring him another, he saw something at the entrance that caught his attention: a tall, slender and very pale female, clad in a form-fitting orange jumpsuit.

So, Sing was back on Nar Shaddaa. Ennui vanishing, he watched with interest as she scanned room, her eyes finally settling on him. Interest intensified as she began to make her way on over. He always liked the way she moved: the slinkiness, the sway of the hips, the way she expected everyone else to get the hell out of her way.

She didn't ask permission to take the seat opposite him, but then he really wouldn't have expected her to.

"Sing." He tipped his hat.

"Bane." She leaned back in the chair and said nothing more.

After a couple of minutes he decided to break the silence.

"Back on your old stomping ground." He poured the last remnants of the brandy into his glass.

"Well, it's been a while." Her voice was one of calculated neutrality.

She wants something, but she's still workin' out how to ask for it, he thought, knocking back the liquor. "So what're you here for den, business or pleasure?"

"There's a difference?"

"For most people."

"Not for us."

"I jus' do it for the money."

She gave a short laugh. "You're trying to tell me that you go to all that trouble just to spend the proceeds in dumps like this?" She made a sweeping gesture.

He shrugged, not about to try and explain that for him it the acquisition of credits not the spending of them that was the was point. It was... personal, and he doubted that she'd understand anyway. Aurra obviously liked her cash, liked the ego-trip of getting the real big ticket bounties, but she only seemed to value what the credits could get her: the guns, the ships, the chance hunt prey in new and interesting ways.

"You're here too, Sing."

"I'm here because I've got a proposition."

"Oh?" His gaze went involuntarily to her breasts.

"A business proposition."

He gestured for her to go on.

"You've heard of Janna Brull?"

"Dat small arms dealer back in de Deep Core?"

"She wants a few former associates out of the picture."

"Which ones?"

"The senate representative from Besaro and four high ranking Corellian bureaucrats. Seems that after a little talk with Senator Organa about certain expense irregularities they repented for their sins and started singing about her operations along the Perlemian Trade Route."

"Sounds kinda small time to me. Brull hasn't been a major player since the Chandrillan Brothers started gun running for de Hutts."

"She's offering two million credits. They're in protective custody on Coruscant and Brull wants to sent a message to any of her other Senate contacts who might be thinking of having a crisis of conscience. I'm taking the job and I need somebody to help me get into the upper levels of the Central Administration Building?"

"Help? Choo mean you want me to work for you?" His mouth curved in amusement.

"I'm offering a twenty percent cut for showing up and clearing out a few security personnel." To anybody who hadn't made a point of watching her mannerisms closely for the last ten years her demeanour would have seemed like the perfect example of calm professionalism, but Bane knew her well enough to sense the desperation leaking out at the seams.

Ah, so dat's it. Inwardly smiling at the sudden emergence of clarity, he brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from his duster.

"Awful generous of you," he remarked mildly.

Aurra shrugged. "I need someone who can get the timing right."

He pretended to think for a moment. "Den how about choo let me do the planning. I'd cut you, say, thirty-five percent minus munitions and choo wouldn't have to worry about de little details."

Her jaw clenched. "I have the plans in order."

"What, like you did on Florrum and Alderaan?" He gave a deep rasping chuckle as she visibly recoiled. "Sing, I can read choo like a book. Dis ain't about choo getting someone to clear out a few guards. Dis is about clawin' back your tattered reputation by getting de best hunter in de galaxy to work for you."

She scowled. He could see from the way that her body stiffened and twitched that she was fighting back the urge to prove him right by smacking him upside the head with a dual-trigger blaster. "You must be even drunker than you look."

He gave a nasty smile. "Your stock's been down ever since de kark up with dat Senator from Naboo. De thing on Florrum wouldn't have hurt on its own, but combined with Alderaan..." He sighed and shook his head in pretend sympathy.

"I had a bad run. It happens to all of us."

"Sure, but most don't end up with de whole event broadcast all over de holonet as Republic propaganda. Stunned by some self-righteous little piece of ass while you bitched out dat Padawan." He made a tsking sound. "Dat's gotta hurt."

For a moment she looked as though she didn't know whether to punch him, storm off or try and maintain her dignity. In the end she seemed to grudgingly settle on the latter.

"It'll blow over in time. Nobody cares about the mess Sugi made of the Abraxus job anymore... or the time you fell into that honey trap on Malastare." She sneered, but the expression seemed more forced than genuinely spiteful.

You obviously do, he thought, but didn't say. The recollection of the way he'd been played by that Theelin girl no longer had any sting to it though. He'd been young, he'd been stupid and he'd made up for the lapse in stone cold ruthlessness since. "So why not go back to Florrum and play house with Ohnaka for a year or two? Show a little leg, shed a few tears. Tell him you're in de family way or some other poodoo. Wouldn't take much to get dat idiot Weequay to take you back for a while."

"I'm not doing that for the same reason you're not hanging out on some bucolic Mid-Rim pleasure planet with harem of barely-legal Togrutan acrobats."

"I prefer Twi'leks. Dey usually got better..." He gestured towards his chest.

Choosing precisely that moment to appear at the table with his brandy, the serving girl gave him a look of out-and-out loathing: an expression that only increased in intensity when it became clear that he wasn't going to tip.

Aurra snorted as the girl stomped away. "Cheap Bane. Very cheap."

He shrugged and poured himself another drink. "She shoulda smiled. Anyway, didn't you once bust up dat place on Tattooine jus' because de owner looked at you funny?"

"I still tipped the waiter." For a few moments her lips quirked upwards. Then she seemed to remember why she was there and what had just passed between them. "So, are you interested or not?"

"Not," he said, reaching for the bottle. "I don't work for other hunters. Besides, I've seen what happens when you call de shots. Choo can follow. Choo can work alone. But choo can't take de lead and not kark it up."

He watched, hands ready to grab his blasters, for the inevitable explosion, but it didn't come. Instead she regarded him with cold blankness for a few seconds and then stood.

"Fine."

And with that she turned and strode towards the door: serving girls, dancers and patrons scurrying quickly out of her path. She had style; you had to give her that.

As exit to the public walkway slide shut behind her Bane glanced around and saw that the bar was much the same as it had been before she'd walked through the door, with the sole exception that a stringy Rodian who'd previously been downing Neutron Starburn cocktails at the bar was now vomiting in one corner of the room. The general world-weariness that Aurra's fleeting appearance had vanquished began to seep back.

He was sorry that she'd left so quickly. It would have been amusing to tease her a little more. Far more entertaining than sitting here wondering how many more glasses it would take before any of the house girls started to look like a good bet for a night in the sack. Hell, if she'd stuck around long enough he could have probably been convinced to go along with her scheme for a bigger cut of the payoff and a few additional 'extras'. He smiled to himself as his mind threw up images of just what she might be prepared to do to get him on side. She didn't screw for money, he knew that. But reputation was another matter entirely.

No point thinking about it now though. She wouldn't ask him again. Aurra might be lacking when it came to certain aspect of self-preservation, but he'd never had cause to doubt her self-respect.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he refilled his glass and squinted at one of the Togrutas.

Nope, still not quite there.

Sing, perhaps you were onto something with dat talk about Mid Rim pleasure planets.