"Hey ... You! Captain! Rogun the Butcher put a bounty on your head!"
"Really? Hope it looks better than that mess on your head. What the hell is that, anyway? Hair? Or did a womp rat crawl up there and die?"
"What ... you? Are you ...? Hey ... Shut up!"
"Damn, sounds like the rat took your tongue, too."
"I'm going to blast you!"
"Hmm, too bad. You look to be too young to die."
"Hah! I've got a flamethrower!"
"Where'd you find it? Trash heap? There's plenty of trash around here, mind you. Corso keeps tripping over it. Just between you and me, he's not used to such messy living conditions."
"Fuck you!"
"Whoah, didn't know you like guys. Sorry, man. I'll stop making fun of your hair. Promise."
"Argh!"
Sabacc was a game of chance, of course. One never knew when the cards would be shuffled, that their values shifted, changed. Quite often without warning, to boot. Never mind, either, that standard gameplay had the values of certain cards locked from the start. No, a good player relied as much on knowing what his opponents were holding, than he did the shifting phases of the game.
That was his gift, his talent. No equivocation, no minor pussyfooting. Not for him. Darmas Pollaran simply, neatly measured and weighed whatever man approached him, until he knew his value and worth, sized them up until they fit into whatever box he decided they belonged. To coddle or wheedle them towards comradery, perhaps. More like useful tools, really. A favor here, an indulgence over there - and then you had a friend in just the right place, at the right time. Better that way. Because threats and browbeating rivalry was just plain, ordinary effort, and Darmas didn't enjoy effort.
Too messy. Too uncomfortable. You were only left to clean up the sweat, the blood, and the tears. He shuddered lightly just thinking of it. No, Darmas was more comfortable losing himself in the tired illusion of good will that he'd perfected. It certainly allowed him greater benefits, he thought, leaning back against his chair as the slim hand of a yellow-skinned Twi'lek female smoothed along his shoulder and over his chest until she was fondling his stomach with firm caressing fingers. The way he liked, she knew. Oh, yes, definitely a better benefit than to have persistent attacks from aggressive criminals intent on proving their mettle against him.
And then the smuggler raised up his dark head, until the glittering gaze of his blue eyes rested on Darmas himself. Only briefly. A swift glance, before he returned his consideration to the sabacc table, with its shifting twists of the cards and the droid trilling the pot's count. Corso was standing just behind the smuggler's chair, his face amused and interested by turns. Darmas would've thought Corso's awed surprise at the captain's lucky run over the sabacc table might ease his sense of miffed discomfiture. But that look in the man's eyes, the vivid flash of blue brilliance narrowed there in his face, was so greatly at odds with his brash, scrappy exterior, that Darmas knew he'd utterly misjudged the man sitting across from him.
A mistake, letting himself be so fooled. Mistakes were bad. Very bad.
Darmas scowled slowly, only barely biting the inside of his cheek before he vented some angry exclamation. He shrouded it all behind a rueful smile, a sigh of minor vexation, "You win again, captain. How many is that, by the by? Five? No, six wins, I believe." Damned if he'd show them how bothered he was, how angry that he'd been tricked so thoroughly. But Gaibriel skimmed a look towards him, so quick Darmas only might have blinked. And he knew Gaib was very aware of every nuance of vexation twisting his stomach into knots.
Who in the Hells are you, where have you been hiding all this time, that you've burst onto the stage right when I can least afford to be caught off-balance, hmm? Darmas slid to his feet, turning away from Gaibriel's gaze as the captain gathered up his winnings and made to follow him. It didn't escape his notice, that the females who'd been draped against his back and shoulders were all of them, now, looking towards the young starship captain - with his firm muscled chest that stretched high over lean hips where the flashing gleam of a blaster rested - and he wondered yet again who'd made the man. Because he'd seen vids enough of Wicks Duncan to know this man, with his bright blue eyes and pale, pale skin, was no son of that particular captain.
Darmas didn't appreciate an unknown commodity. He'd know this one before the night was through, he promised himself. But Gaibriel tossed him an easy smirk as he dropped down onto one of the plush sofas in Darmas' cantina booth. And he wondered sullenly if Gaib was struggling as much to measure his own worth, as Darmas was in discerning Gaibriel's. The sense he'd been beaten at his own game welled up yet again, and Darmas nearly screamed in frustration. But he only smiled, lifting his chin into a determined scowl of pugnacious tenacity, thinking, "Let the game begin." Because, at least. There was always fun in playing another hand.
Gaibriel smoothed a single finger against the soft skin of his pale neck, just above the collar of his jacket. Corso slashed a glance towards him, his brown eyes wide with a sudden realization as he took in the burns that marked the green curves of Kixi's slender neck, where the slave collar normally sparked and spit out a terrible threat, keeping the woman under deliberately terrible control. Marks Corso suddenly recognized, and he felt his stomach twisting sickeningly as he remembered the slightly ridged scars against the turn of Gaibriel's neck, just where his shoulder began.
How many times did a slave collar have to burn you, how many times did a slaver have to activate the electric shock the collar delivered, before the skin was permanently marked like that? Corso lowered his head, breathing slowly as he pondered. But Kixi only frowned towards them, her big eyes wide above her green-skinned cheeks as Gaibriel gestured towards her collared neck, muttering, "Well, that explains why the Migrant Merchants have been gathering all those crystals, heh Corso?" Kixi gasped in alarm when Gaibriel reached for the collar, holding up her hands as if to ward them off.
"Hands off, idiot! I'm not looking to lose my damn head, here. Believe me!"
Gaib huffed a single sigh, "Just plain break my heart, why don't you? Like I don't know how to finangle something as simple as a slave collar." He lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers in front of Kixi's face with dramatic amusement. She shook her head tiredly, looking slightly bemused.
"Look, I highly doubt you came here looking for me. What do you want?"
Gaibriel scanned the woman's slender figure carefully, his dark eyebrow quirked into suggestive invitation. "Why wouldn't I come looking for you? You're worth it. Believe me."
Kixi laughed lightly, "Oh, yea, sure. Well, you're way more cute than the last human who came here looking for my skills. And you're certainly not friendly to the Merchants, not with the trail of bodies I saw you making on the vids." She murmured, glancing sideways towards the door leading out of the room where she was so typically imprisoned, "Hope they rot."
He crossed his arms across his chest. "Human who bothered you wouldn't be called dirty-assed scumbag Skavak, would he?"
Kixi's pale eyes narrowed as she regarded him, "Yea, you're definitely more cute than him. Skavak was an asshole."
Gaibriel hummed lightly, his blue eyes dancing with pretended amusement, hoping to set her at some small ease. He sidled around the small Mirialan woman, eyeing the connections the collar made against her throat. The large room was dominated by the terminals Kixi was made to work over, the machines blinking and warbling their steady refrain. Information bristled, buzzed there in the space. Hers to manipulate, to coerce. But only ever as she was directed. She had no real control, not with those awful fingers wrapped around her neck all the time.
Gaibriel's memory burned, hard. Dark places, where terrible things moved. And hard hands that shoved him straight towards the dark. Screams from the ones who'd already met the bad things, dying there so slowly and far from anyone who could help. Or even see. Anger, that his life, their lives, too, was reduced down to such a low price.
But he only shook his head, sending his hair flying back to the side of his forehead. Gaib concentrated on the collar, instead. He muttered softly as he worked against the thing with a tiny pick and needle he yanked from his pack, talking as much to calm Kixi as to gather vital details about lousy Skavak's movements on Coruscant, "What'd Skavak promise you, then? He's got a talent for convincing females to do whatever he wants."
"Oh, cause you never make promises so a woman will spread herself wide for you, huh?"
Gaibriel paused, looking down at the back of her head where she'd bent to expose her neck to his work. He huffed, "Sweetheart, you have little real appreciation for how delicious my wooing can be, trust me. Could show you, mind you, but this is hardly the right time or place. Your neck is just too pretty." He bent closer, eyeing the multi-colored filaments connecting the electric switches to the wires running around to the front of the collar. He snipped carefully with the tiny needle. "Besides. I keep the promises I make. Pretty much why I make so few of them."
She was quiet for a long while, thinking to herself as he finished the task. Wasn't long before she heard a telling click. And then her neck felt ... different, lighter. She watched the collar fall from around her neck, landing with a dull thud onto the floor. Kixi stared down at the thing for a long moment, just blinking at it as the human smoothed his fingers along the back of her suddenly bare neck. She heard him talking, telling the other human man, "Corso, grab the damn thing. We can turn it in to that lawman, along with the rest of the damn chips." Then he leaned closer to her again, whispering, "Breathe. Last thing we need is to pick you up off the floor, too. Pain in the ass."
Kixi snorted a bark of laughter, turning to face the captain with her chin raised up pugnaciously. "Still. There's got to be some reason you came here looking for me. Not sent by the Merchants, obviously."
Gaibriel shot her a saucy grin from under his bent head as he returned his small tools to the pouch where he kept them. "Just don't want you thinking I'm interested in Skavak past putting a blaster bolt in his ass, is all."
Kixi was even more enchanted. She felt like singing out some wild song, something purely stupid, like, "Please take me with you." Damn, but he was worth being a bit stupid over, she thought, eyeing the turn of his hips as he tossed his pack over his shoulder again. But there was no assurety this one was interested in her past her fervent skills over the holonet. Which is pretty much what Skavak had come here for, was her ability to manipulate information on the holo. "Skavak was whining about some Sullustan lawman chasing after him. That's obviously not you. Your ears aren't that big."
Gaibriel tossed his head back, laughing. "Don't worry! The size of my ears has nothing to do with the size of my other parts."
She couldn't help it. Her gaze immediately dropped down to best guage the size of his male parts, even as a blush turned her green skin even darker. The other human didn't help, considering he chuckled over the blatant flare of interest Kixi knew was obvious in her consideration. She shrugged with pretended nonchalance, "Yea, it seems everything of you's in reasonable proportion."
Gaib grinned at her, "Glad to show you all of my proportions, sweetheart. But later. I'm chasing down Skavak's sorry ass at the moment."
She nodded, smiling back at him as she imagined the arrogant sack of shit who'd told her minders when they'd offered up Kixi's "other services" that he had no interest in "sinking my cock into the slimy filth of an alien cunt." She despised the Merchants, for keeping her secured in this room for years too long, until it seemed to grow smaller and smaller around her and she felt like she was suffocating, slowly, against the pressure of the impinging walls. But her disgust for Skavak was a close second at the moment.
"I'm not really sure where he went. But I'm well able to slow him down. All I need to do is expose, all over again, all the juiciest tidbits from his record he was so intent on hiding. Hey, he paid the Merchants a hefty price for the effort, too. He'll be pinging off every camera he tries to pass on Coruscant. And there are a lot of cameras," Kixi chuckled darkly as she worked fast over the terminal. She felt Gaibriel stepping closer to her, leaning over her shoulder to peruse the details scrolling over the screen.
"Damn, Corso. Skavak's even more of a sleaze than I thought. You should look at some of the pots he's been sticking his fingers into." Gaibriel's breaths fanned the side of Kixi's jaw, just under her ear, and she shivered delicately. She felt him smile, just before he deliberately blew a puff of ear into the brief shell of her ear. "Should make it even more fun, you know. Make it so no woman will look twice at his skanky ass."
Kixi's eyes narrowed speculatively, her fingers flying across the terminal. "Oh! Label him a plague-carrier - give him a nasty case of Bothan Nether Rot, yea! That'll keep the girls away!" She actually crowed loudly as she worked. The results were spectacular, enough that Kixi proudly sank back against the smuggler's frame, resting there for a moment as she pointed. "What do you think?"
Gaibriel murmured, "Think we should get you out of here, now."
She turned her head to regard him carefully. "Not going to leave me here, then?"
He stood straight, dramatially pressing the palm of his hand over his heart. "That was always the plan, believe me! Besides. Wouldn't leave Corso in a dump like this, either. And you're prettier than him."
Corso only sniggered, "Feeling the love, here. Believe me."
Gaibriel glanced only briefly around the yawning cavernous expanse of the room, with its plush wall hangings, colorful carpets and towering windows that made for brilliant splashes of sunlight across the gleaming tile floors. Gaibriel's appreciation was more basic than that, veering more towards survival. Prettiness was a minor consideration, at best. But he could hear Corso muttering somewhere behind him, "Maybe we should've rented some nicer clothes. Don't think I've ever felt more out of place, captain." Gaib only grunted.
He'd strode inside, insisting he needed to see the Senator, still caked in the grime of sweat and dust and some kind of residue from the filth and trash that lined the streets below. Fuck him, if he'd give the bastard the respect of washing himself off before entering his damn office.
He felt a spurt of satisfaction when Doli-bur Barc sniffed a delicate sound of disgust as they stopped in front of him. Idiot should be happy he didn't kick him straight in his fucking gonads, Gaibriel thought, smirking as he nodded towards the Senator. Barc managed to mask his distaste behind a pasted-looking smile, though. Typical politician, of course. Gaibriel was more impressed he'd managed so simply to needle the man's tired sensibilities.
Barc waved one hand in that pretentious manner so common to elitist politicians, warbling, "Good, good. When I reported the theft of such valuable merchandise to Coruscant Security Forces, I never imagined they'd prove so incapable at retrieving it. I'm simply gratified to see you were more adept." He actually drawled the word "gratified". Gaibriel didn't even try to stop himself from laughing outright.
"Please. By all means, continue with your praise. It's entertaining." He watched the look of consternation that spread over the Senator's face. Behind him, Corso shifted uneasily but he didn't move, only stood there in supportive readiness, his face stiff and angry as he regarded the Senator. Gaibriel squared his shoulders as he gestured towards his companion, waited for Corso to step closer and hand him the bag.
The Senator was smart enough to sense the yawning tension in the room, at least. He actually stammered a bit, "Yes ... well, indeed, then. The reward for the retrieval of the items is substantial. I'm sure you will be pleased."
Corso darted a glance towards Gaibriel from the corner of his eye, saw the straight and rigid stance the young captain had maintained since entering the Senate Building. He'd thought at first that Gaibriel was uncomfortable with the ostentatious spaces they passed to reach the Senator's offices. But Gaib wasn't uncertain. He wasn't chagrined. There wasn't anything arbitrary in his motions.
No, Gaibriel Duncan knew exactly what he was doing. And his confidence was a darkly terrible thing. Corso remembered the icy look in Gaib's eyes as he worked to remove Kixi's collar. He'd known the captain maintained a comfortable dialogue with her, teased and cajoled her, mostly to calm her, really. Maybe to soothe his own dreadful feelings. He looked, watched as Gaibriel swung the bag lightly, only enough to cause the bag to bounce along the bottom of his thigh. The clink of the chips inside the bag sounded loud in the still space between them and the Senator.
Barc frowned, looking down at the bag with raised eyebrows. He felt the sudden need to explain. Although he wouldn't have been able to say why, really. Who was this miscreant freighter captain, anyway? "The materials will be used to strengthen the will and determination of our troopers. In the days ahead, such conviction will prove absolutely essential, I believe."
"Make them more afraid of failing you, their commanders, and they'll shoot better, faster, hmm?" Gaib's tone was dangerously smooth. Corso almost nearly winced as he listened. "Sounds more like an Imperial concept, if you ask me."
"Indeed it should. The Imperial military is a fearsome thing. If we're to contend with them, it should be on equal footing."
Gaibriel canted his head to the side, contemplating the Senator with a cold, dispassionate gaze. "We should test your theory, I think. Right here."
The Senator looked confused, his brows all twisted up into a bunch against his forehead. Corso thought he looked funny all of a sudden. "Test? What test?"
Gaibriel leaped at him suddenly. The Senator yelped as the smuggler wrapped his hands around his upper arms, spinning him around before wrestling him into a prone position against the tiled floor. "Corso! Sit on his ass!" The Mantellian shook himself loose from his frozen position, dropping down to put a knee against the Senator's backside. Just to hold him in place, of course. He resolutely ignored the sputtering sounds that Barc was making, listening instead for the clicking sound that came when Gaibriel snapped the collar around the Senator's neck.
"How dare you! Gerrof me!"
Gaib stepped back, leaning down to help Corso stand up again while the Barc clambered back to his feet. Gaibriel smiled widely at the angry look of stunned surprise on the Senator's face as he spun around to face them. He wagged a single finger towards the man, tsking, "You'll need to comb your hair after the test is concluded, Senator. It's standing on end already. Who's to say what it will look like afterwards."
Barc gaped at him, "Excuse me? What in the blazes are you talking about?" Gaibriel held up the remote, then. He watched the look of dawning understanding sliding across the Senator's face, watched as the man's fingers leapt to his throat where the weight of the collar was pressing with unfamiliar solidness. Barc yelped again, holding up one hand while he cried out, "Wait a minute ... you can't do this!" But Gaibriel only depressed the activation switch.
Barc screamed as the sizzling power of the collar ripped through his system. His spine bowed as he dropped his head back, while fingers of fiery shock and pain extended through every length of his body. It felt like burning cuts, like razor-sharp edges were trilling against every nerve ending, every stretch of skin and bone, every brief cell. He smelled something smoking, thought wildly that his skin must be coming loose. And he screamed shrilly, loosed his bladder in a terrible rush.
Then the pain stopped. Suddenly. Awfully. Barc collapsed forward, until he was kneeling there on the floor, basically toppled over onto all fours as he whimpered and cried in distressed shock. The captain's boots appeared suddenly, there in his pitiful frame of vision. He looked up blearily as Gaibriel knelt down in front of him.
Barc whimpered as he noted the rueful expression on the smuggler's face, saw him shaking his head as he intoned, "I was five years-old the first time someone put a collar around my neck, Senator. He called me 'an unruly little git', said he'd teach me. And he did. He taught me when I was allowed to eat, when I was allowed to speak a word, when I was allowed to sleep, move, look, cry. Hell, when I was allowed to piss. Anytime I did different, that pain was my reward. Eventually, I didn't give a shit anymore. Figured if they wanted to kill me, I might as well laugh in their damn faces as I was taking them along witih me. Now, it's up to you. Just not sure that's the lesson you want to teach your troopers."
Gaibriel slowly stood straight again. He looked over at Corso, noted the angry understanding in his expression. He just shrugged as he turned to leave, ignoring the pained whimpers of the Senator on the floor behind him as he stepped towards the doors. Corso sneered lightly down at the Senator, listening as the Security forces stepped inside the room and addressed Gaibriel, who handed them the bag of slave collar chips. The Mantellian only leaned over the whining politician, "Better watch what toys you try playing with, Senator. Someone might end up laughing at you lying there on the floor. Just saying."
