21 BBY

Coruscant

In the years following the collapse of the Bando Gora, the Haugg nerf meat processing plant they had used as a front had been left to rot. It had since been claimed by the Trekali Cartel, who had converted it into their headquarters on Coruscant. As their trademark spices, carsunum and andris, were mined and refined back on Sevarcos, they used the building to produce lesser varieties of narcotics. There was a reduced profit of course, but they still sold well enough.

Rane paused to pick up and examine a small vial of spice as it rolled down an assembly line. He narrowed his ocular implants at it, his incredibly enhanced vision letting him pick out each individual grain of the purple substance inside. It was a curious thing that so many beings abused it, it was a practice in which Ganks like him did not partake in. They sought to improve their bodies through extensive cybernetic reconstructive surgery, not poison and destroy it with spice. He couldn't understand why anyone would put themselves through that. But then, non-Ganks were utterly incomprehensible, all of them.

"Miserable weaklings," he muttered as he tossed the container over his shoulder. He heard it shatter and spill its contents onto the dirty floor, and he heard one of the workers squeak in alarm. They might get punished for that. Oh well, it didn't matter to him.

He had business to attend to with his employer. The Sevari woman called Zerek. She was…an interesting woman. For a non-Gank. It was something he would have never admitted to anyone, but he found something strangely attractive about the woman. It wasn't her appearance, she was hideous. Not a cybernetic enhancement in sight, just soft, frail flesh. No, it was her brutality that caught his interest. She wasn't like most Humans, she had a noticeable bloodlust and was always brutal with anyone who crossed her.

He could look past her ugliness for that.

He marched up and down the processing floor, looking all over for Zerek with no luck. She should have been overseeing the spice making process, but Zerek had a mind of her own and often seemed to do whatever other thing she wanted instead. Naturally, that made tracking her down in the large factory somewhat difficult. Still, there was one person who might know where he could find her.

"Lanmo!" Rane called out as he approached the man.

The being who stood before him was clad from head to foot in black robes, his face covered by a horned mask that looked like a skull. Emerald green eyes glowed unnaturally brightly in the sockets, casting a glow over whatever he looked at. Clutched tightly in his hands was a staff, the top of which was shaped like the head of a laigrek, its jaws open wide and showing off its finely carved teeth.

Lanmo was a remnant from when the Bando Gora had run the spice trade on Coruscant. As far as anyone knew, including Lanmo, he was the last of the Bando Gora. They had found him squatting in the building when they had moved in, huddled in a pile of rags. He would have met his end then and there, if he had not offered to help in their spice manufacturing. He claimed to be able to increase the addictive properties of their spices, and that seemed to be true, given how well it was selling. That had proven enough to endear Lanmo to Zerek, and she had kept him close, making him one of her lieutenants on Coruscant ever since.

"Where's Zerek?" Rane asked, his tone cold. He held no love for the cultist, and if not for Zerek's unfortunate fondness for Lanmo, Rane would have cheerfully killed him. The man's strange mysticism unnerved the Gank, and he didn't trust that he held Zerek's best interests.

The slight amount of jealousy he held for the man didn't help either.

"In her room. I do not think she wishes to be disturbed," Lanmo replied in his low, guttural voice.

"She'll see me, I don't count as a disturbance," Rane snarled as he shoved his faceplate close to Lanmo's mask. The cultist's implication incensed him. How could he, Zerek's top lieutenant, ever be seen as a disturbance?

The other man didn't flinch or step back. If Rane were feeling more generous, he would have given Lanmo some credit for that. "As you say," he replied, his tone irritatingly composed.

Rane growled, and his fingers twitched. He was dangerously close to lashing out, to raking his sharpened durasteel claws over Lanmo's soft flesh, to whipping out his blaster and gunning him down. To not do so took a heroic amount of restraint on his part, and he quickly turned and stalked off in the direction of Zerek's room.

Since they had moved into the abandoned plant, Zerek had converted one of the former offices into her quarters. It was sparsely decorated, and didn't even have a proper bed, just a simple cot that Zerek hardly ever seemed to sleep in anyway. Sleep didn't come easy to her, so she spent most of her time either prowling the factory floor or out patrolling their territory. As the leader of Coruscant's chapter of the Trekali Cartel, it was beneath her, and potentially highly dangerous, but she did it anyway.

He stopped in front of Zerek's room, and knocked before he entered, his metal fingers clanging loudly on the door. "Boss? I need to talk to you; it's important."

"Come in," the voice on the other side called back, sounding more than a little tired.

The first thing that Rane noticed was Zerek, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the centre of the room. Her breath mask was secured to her face, though her clothes were somewhat mussed up, one of the straps on her top had slid halfway down her arm. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and the skin around them was so dark it looked bruised. The second thing Rane noticed was the ceiling of the room, and his optics widened in surprise and confusion at what he saw.

Perhaps a dozen dolls were strung up in miniature nooses, all attached to the pipes that ran along the room's ceiling.

Rane tilted his head in confusion and stared at the figures for a long moment. After a few seconds had passed, he reluctantly tore his gaze away and turned to Zerek. "Excuse me, but I have to ask…why have you strung up all these dolls?"

Zerek glanced up at the dolls, her face furrowed in puzzlement. After a moment, she shrugged and replied. "You know, I'm honestly not sure myself. I took my mask off for a bit, blacked out and when I woke up, the room was like this."

"Right…" That Zerek had blacked out and done something unusual wasn't that uncommon itself. Zerek was prone to doing strange things when she exposed herself to Coruscant's air. The clear atmosphere, free of the spices that saturated Sevarcos, had a curious effect on the Sevari. It dulled their minds, made them act irrationally. Still, even for her standards, this was just bizarre.

Zerek quirked a brow. "You said you had something you needed to talk to me about?" She asked through half-lidded eyes.

Rane reached into his pocket and pulled out a holoprojector. Instantly, a grainy image of Zerek flashed into existence, hovering over Rane's hand. "You should know, a bounty's been posted on you. 50,000 credits alive, 100,000 dead," Rane reported.

"Who posted it?" Zerek asked, her tone flat, unconcerned by the news.

"Lobas. I think he really wants you dead."

Hebdor Lobas was one of the major spice dealers on Coruscant. A stocky, scarred Twi'lek, most residents of the underlevels were scared witless of him, and for good reason. He was known for his ruthlessness, and any threats to his power were swiftly and harshly dealt with. That hadn't deterred Zerek of course, and she was quick to make her own examples of his men. Primarily by burning his spice dealers alive.

"He's threatened by us. We're pushing in on the spice trade, he knows glitterstim can't compete with carsunum. Still, I'm insulted. 100,000 credits dead?" Zerek snorted. "He can afford to pay out more than that. Cheapskate."

"How do you want us to deal with him?"

Zerek rubbed her temples and furrowed her brow in thought. "We need to send a message of our own. We ramp up our attacks on his men and push deeper into their territory. I want him on the run. We'll give him no kriffing mercy. And when it comes to it, I'll take his head myself." She reached out for her vibro-machete, laying on the floor. Slowly, she ran her fingers along the sharpened edge of the blade, either ignoring or unaware of the fact that she was cutting herself. Blood oozed along the weapon and pooled on the floor.

Rane's heart began beating rapidly in his chest at the sight. He tore his gaze away and cleared his throat.

"And the other threats? What about Windstream?"

Cil Windstream and his men were another competitor of theirs. They dealt in spice too, as well as many other rackets, from prostitution, to gunrunning to gambling. That he had taken a splinter faction of the Purple Zombies, a small time gang made up mostly spice addicted kids and raised it up to one of the most successful gangs spoke of his talents.

"What about him?" Zerek asked as she slowly pulled her injured hand away from her machete. She casually examined her cut fingers, before flicking the blood off of her.

Rane grunted. "He hasn't posted any bounties, but he has been targeting our dealers. We've found five so far, all riddled with blaster burns."

"Well, we'll just have to make sure they're better defended in the future then, won't we? Up the patrols and have some of our boys close. If Windstream tries to go after us, we'll make him pay for it." Zerek said.

"I'll have some of my own pride protect them. There are no fiercer warriors than Gank Killers," Rane boasted, thumping a fist to his chest.

Zerek flashed a wan smile, her head lurching down for a second. "You've never seen a Sevari death squad in action." Her fingers crept back to the vibro-machete, smearing a thin trail of blood on the grimy floor.

"I'm sure that would be very educational," Rane said, suddenly hoping that Zerek might join him on a hunt.

"Was that all?" Zerek asked as she wiped her bloody, dusty fingers on the leg of her pants.

"We've also been having trouble with the Racerz. For a bunch of speeder tuners, they're proving to be surprisingly troublesome. We've had three drive-by shootings, and they've been targeting the speeders our boys use and cannibalising their parts." Rane winced as he remembered the last occurrence. The speeder had suddenly fallen apart in mid-air, the unfortunate passengers falling screaming into the depths of the Underlevels.

"We'll pick up one of their lieutenants and make an example out of him. Once they see what we're capable of, they'll back off. If they're smart that is."

Rane snorted. "They're swoop jockeys, they have no brains." Although, he'd be happy to borrow Zerek's machete and carve their skulls open to check.

"Grab Nexu Gleasry, if you can. His transmissions are starting to give me a headache." She motioned to her subspace transceiver.

Rane could sympathise with her frustration. Nexu Gleasry was a member of the Racerz who operated a pirate frequency over subspace radio. It was mostly commentary on whatever random thing happened to be in his head at the time. His favourite and most frequent topic of discussion, however, was racing. He'd talk endlessly on speeders, swoops and races that he'd witnessed. It was maddening how single-minded the man could be. Rane would cheerfully track him down and gut him.

"As you wish, he'll be dead as soon as my pride can pick up his trail." Rane's fingers twitched in excitement. He could already feel the blood running down his talons and coursing over his mix of skin and metal. He almost shuddered in anticipation. The tongue would be the first thing to go. It might even make a fine necklace.

"Good," Zerek murmured, her head lolling on her shoulders. Rane could see that she was just about out of energy, in another minute or two, she'd be out entirely. Even someone like Zerek could only go so long without sleep, and the exhaustion was finally catching up to her.

"If you have no further orders, Boss, I'll see myself out."

Zerek waved him off, before she sluggishly crawled towards her cot. For a moment, Rane was tempted to just pick her up and carry her himself, but thought better of it. She had stopped to grab her vibro-machete and held it in a death-grip. Frankly, he didn't fully trust her not to swing it at his neck if he got close in her sleep-addled state. Instead, he quietly slipped out through the door. He quickly strode down the corridors of the meat packing plant, looking for the rest of his pack. He'd gather them together and order them out hunting. In very short order, the streets of the Underlevels would be running red with blood. An excited growl rose up in Rane's throat and he flexed his talons; he really did love his job.