Sorry for the long wait, whoever is reading this (which seems to be not many but I updated anyhow) Here's the next chapter.
Please review :)
Chapter 2 : Deal of Distrust
Night held no remorse for any residents in the depths of the darkest sectors of Luminopolis. During the day, the grubby markets and dusty dealings buzzed with life- if you could call it that. The thugs, mercenaries and other low-lives of the city gathered around like fungus, and even if they did have looks that could kill, it was better to see them in front of your face rather than from the darkness behind you.
The Smuggler was one of the few that strode down the darkened street below the lights of the city; chewing darkly on a toothpick and moving slower than he had been earlier on in the day. His parrot companion was settled quietly on his shoulder, under the cover of his long brimmed hat. Times like this, in places like these, you didn't jabber if you could help it. And if you absolutely must talk, it was in hushed whispers that you'd have to be right close by to hear.
It was not entirely silent; the buzz of the city night above where all the pretty buildings where did not fade with distance- however, being away from the noise and the light was the unnerving part to most. But the Smuggler wasn't afraid- just cautious. He'd rather not get into a brawl with some mugger tonight.
He turned a corner, lip twisting around his toothpick in a frown as he noticed how this area was more enclosed; tight. A pair of bloated pinkish creatures clad in thick clothing and hoods glanced at him as he strode by, their hushed conversation pausing as his tall shadow passed over him. He glanced at them for a split second before moving his gaze back to his path.
He'd received a transmission- a rare occurrence. Only those whose word of silence had been assured were allowed to have such communication, people he 'knew' and had smuggled for in the past. It was through them that he ran into new clients, and he was always careful of impostors and the law. Whoever this was, his former clients had been scared enough to 'suggest' his services without a second thought. That interested him, but also had him suspicious.
Smuggler didn't hesitate to flip out his knife and carelessly twirl it in his hand as he neared the meeting point: a oddly hushed bar in the depths of the sector. He could see the place now; not the rowdy, dank places you get but rather that card-playing, tense and quiet places where secret business and planning occurred.
Smuggler paused for a moment a few feet away from the door, murky light radiating through cracks in blinds and underneath the doorway. He chewed a little more on his toothpick before plucking it from his lips and tossing it aside. He adjusted his hat before moving forward, placing a single hand on the door and swinging it open.
The door slammed against the wall, and dozens of narrowed eyes turned his way, looking up from card games, huddles and drinks. He glanced left and right before stepping in, letting the door swing shut behind him. The gazes followed him as he crossed the room (and it was indeed a very long room, wide and cluttered with tables and stools) but they instantly looked away upon seeing which door he was heading for.
His uncovered eye narrowed upon reaching the door; a metallic one with a n eye slot a little more than at level with his own gaze. Back Rooms were usually reserved in advance, for those who wanted their business to remain out of earshot of anyone uninvolved. The Smuggler had been to a few of these meetings, but something didn't feel quite right.
He exchanged a knowing frown with his feathered partner. He'd have to watch his step here.
He tapped roughly on the metal door, slipping his knife back to his side and he waited. The slot opened, and he caught sight of two sour green eyes peering at him. Smuggler looked up, and tipped his hat back a little. The eyes narrowed and the slot slid shut.
The door slid open, and a large, lumbering tyharranoid sporting four eyes glared down at him before stepping to the side. Smuggler looked past him and spotted a table through the dim light. A pair of feet were set up on the metal surface, five-fingered hands sat on the knee of the crossed left leg. Apart from the black-clad gloves and the legs (and a notable trench coat trailing past the seat) the figure was hidden in the darkness.
A Taller figure leaned against the wall beside him, clad in a heavy black coat and hood. He was taller and more gangly the Smuggler, and a long, lipless (and noiseless) green face poked out from beneath the hood
The more relaxed and smaller of the two, the one sitting down, spread his arms wide as the Smuggler approached the seat opposite. "A, Mr Smuggler," A cheerful, yet oily voice cut through the air, "How nice it is to meet you."
Smuggler slumped down on the seat, and had no problem with leaning back, looking quite unbothered by the whole mysterious air. But, his eyes kept looking around for any sign of a trap. He didn't trust people, and these two jumped up the no-trust scale like fleas.
"Swell ta meet you, too." He replied slowly, folding his arms. His eyes peered at the darkened figure from beneath his hat. Why was this pipsqueak hiding, anyway?
The hands moved, one tapping its five digits on the table as the other waved a little. The slightly sophisticated-sounding voice continue, "We can disperse with the pleasantries. We both want to get down to business, I'm very sure."
Smuggler eyed the drumming fingers as the tall, hooded figure spoke in a slithering voice that sounded as used as a century-old ship, "We've heeeard of your smuggling prowessss, 'Smuggler'" He drawled, a blue, slimy tongue clicking against yellow teeth, "And we have a propossssition for you."
The outlaw couldn't help but snort, "If ya didn't I wouldn't be 'ere, woulda, pal?"
The slime ball growled in response, and the bulking henchman by the door hissed. But, the hidden short fry raised a hand, a wheezing sort of chuckle escaping him.
"I like You, Smuggler," He remarked, lowering his hand. He had leaned forward a centimetre or two, and the Smuggler could just make out a pair of dark, brown irises reflected in the dim light.
"So if you're here, that means you accept, yes?" Before Smuggler could finish his nod, the other continued, "Good. I have some...cargo that needs delivering to a remote location on Merdegraw. My associates will be waiting at the station on the planet to give you the next co-ordinates. I cannot give you them now, however- I like to play it safe."
Smuggler cocked a brow, but allowed him to continue without interruption, "You will be able to pick up the cargo on the Ship Docks at the edge of Luminopolis, in the west side. Do you know-"
"Yep, I know it," Smuggler muttered, his desire to get out of the stuff, shadowy room at the boiling point. The glinting brown eyes narrowed.
"I take it I'm boring you. If you'd rather leave now and remain ignorant of some details..." The eyes tilted, signalling he was cocking his head and an air of smugness wormed its way into his tones, "Then I won't be responsible for any harm to arrests that may result."
Smuggler scowled at him, his feathered Parrot's eyes widening in alarm. He raised both hands in silent, mock surrender and allowed him to continue.
However, it was his tall, slimy companion who spoke next. "Theeere are ruuules to thisss, Smuggler." He hissed darkly, head lowering, "We advise you to follow them if you value your life."
The outlaw rose a hairless brow in response, offering only a scowl instead of words. He looked back at the shadows where the smaller of the two piped up again.
"That's your main outline, Smuggler. Allow me to lay down the rules." The cheery tone he'd been using hardened to a more serious one, something Smuggler didn't fail to notice. He must like his rules...
"You will not ask any questions after this meeting. You will pick up the cargo tomorrow at three in the morning. You will receive half of your pay now, and the rest of it when your task is complete. You will not tell anyone or anything of this, and you will not look inside the cargo or tamper with it in any mode or fashion. If you break any of these, I can assure I will know. And you will die. Painfully."
The voice lightened almost insanely at the last word, and it was clear the smaller being liked the thought despite wanting the task done. "Sooo...any questions you have must be asked now. And after this, we will not talk until everything is done and dusted."
There was pause. The figure leaned back, brown eyes vanishing into the darkness as did his hands. Out of all of them he seemed the most relaxed. The Smuggler sat opposite narrowed his eyes a little before sniffing, tipping his hat up. "I gotta few. How much we talkin' here?"
"5000 bolts is the half your getting now." The smaller figure quipped.
Smuggler's brows raised a little. "Huh. Fair deal. Aaand one more thing. Why is it that I ain't being told what it is I'm transportin'?"
There was a pause, and the hooded figure looked over at his colleague. The smaller figure didn't seem bothered. "I like to keep by business my own. Tell me, Smuggler, do you know much about...chemicles?"
The Smuggler scowled. "I betta not be transportin' no bombs or gas cans, pal." He recalled the last time he smuggled anything of that sort, and it ended up messy. The kind of messy that almost gets you landed in prison or decapitated.
"Oh ho, isn't nothing like that. Think of it more as a...tool that helps with something, like a wrench or a key...Just don't get too nosey, Smuggler."
Taking that as his cue to leave, the Smuggler stood and tipped his hand without a smile or considerate word. He turned and began making his way to the door when the figure called out again.
"I do mean it, my friend. You will regret it if you do..." The inward laugh that followed was all he needed to hear. This guy obviously had a few screws loose, or a few of them screwed in the wrong place. The henchman at the door handed him the bag of bolts promised as half of his loot when he neared the door. He gave a humorless grin. "Much obliged, friend."
The latter snorted and stepped aside to allow the Smuggler to leave. He glanced back at the two shadowy figures before striding out the door, frown still plastered on his face. Good money or no, he just wanted to get this over with. Whatever they were transporting, he didn't want any more part in it outside of being the delivery man.
"Rark, I don't like um, Don't like them a lil bit." He frowned huffily at the Parrot swooping around him as he strode down the streets, back the way he came.
"Don't be such a cowardly featherhead." He retorted, adjusting the hat on his head, "Money's good and that's all there is to it..."
His voice trailed off when he noticed something glinting on the ground; a shiny token standing out from the grimy street it lay in. The Smuggler frowned curiously and knelt down, scooping up the object to find it was a stray bolt. He smirked a little.
He tossed it in the air and caught it as he stood to his full length, remarking, "Looks like our luck's changin', partner." The Parrot rolled his eyes and perched himself atop the Smuggler's hat.
"Doesn't change the fact we were robbed by a lil' girl."
"Woulda quit that already? C'mon, gettin' up at three tha' morrow and I ain't got much sleepin' time..."
"Rawrk, You're a grump with or without it, rawrk."
Don't trust shadowy figures, even if they only come up to past your knee in height.