The meeting room was a welcome bastion of solace when compared to the practically booming mess of music and people in the common area. Demagol and Zerimar sat in the lounge roundabout on one side as Mr. Ulhan positioned himself on the opposite end. A certain level of impatience was written upon Zerimar's countenance, almost evident as his fingertips busily drummed along the surface of the center table.
"So this job, Mr. Ulhan. What should my partner and I be expecting?" Demagol read the room and took the approach that would give them their necessary answers as quick as possible. "I'm pretty unfamiliar with this place."
"Unfamiliar? No, Phoenix. You're a lot more familiar with this place than you're letting off." The man immediately remarked as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, exhaling a cloud of smoke across the table after he took a hit. "How could you forget?"
Zerimar raised one of his hands and made a gesture of rapping his knuckles against his temple. "He cracked his head pretty fuckin' good sometime ago. Got his memories all jumbled up. Anyway, the fuck are you talkin' about? Quit being cryptic."
Mr. Ulhan took another inhale from his cigarette and let the smoke bask in his lungs for a few stagnant moments before pushing out the excess through his nose. "What I mean is that Phoenix here has done a job on this planet before. Not only that, but worked for my.. expansive syndicate before."
These words put an immediate chill in the air, like there was a desperate secretary rummaging through files throughout Demagol's hard drive of a brain. An incessant need to understand what was happening. Truth be told, there was no familiarity at face value for him. "I'm not fuckin' buying it. Quit pulling my chain and give us the details of this contract already." That usual calm demeanor that Demagol displayed was waning away. There it was, a pensive glare.
A subtle chuckle was all Mr. Ulhan could give in momentary response. A resolute nod followed thereafter and he produced a folder with several documents held inside. He slid it across the table as he began, "You'll find the finer details of the contract in there. I'll verbally give you the rough draft of what to expect down there on Grezik."
Demagol brought the folder between himself and Zerimar and opened it, spreading the documents out so that they could look at all of them at once. "So it is a manhunt of sorts. And we're to take this person in alive?" Cobalt eyes peered upward from the papers and locked themselves upon Mr. Ulhan.
"That is correct, Phoenix. Individual's name is Deino. He's a defector from our faction who has gone and joined our opposition as an informant. A security fracture. This is harming the integrity of our local operations and we'd like to have it cleaned up by an outside source."
"Why an outside source? He was your fuckin' dude, right?" Zerimar questioned, brows furrowing as he looked over the contract details. "Seems you've lost face, doesn't make sense for you to have someone else do your dirty work for you in this instance. Why need us?"
"The answer is simple, Viper. Because right now we, the Szari Syndicate and the Galmectus Form are in a ceasefire. We have a standing truce. Were we to march directly into their territory in such force, then we would be violating that truce and it would be a cause for all-out war over the local region. That's not cost-beneficial for us at the moment, both in people and money."
"Nah, nah. See, that doesn't make any fuckin' sense either. That guy deserting you should have been grounds enough for you to declare cause of war through subterfuge, but for some fuckin' reason you're holding your tongue on that. I don't buy your reasoning either. I don't like this- we shouldn't take this job, Demagol."
Mr. Ulhan interrupted before Demagol could formulate a response. "It's not that fucking simple you pisshead bounty hunter. Had your friend an intact memory then he would know that he owes the Szari for a couple mortal fuck-ups he made with us in the past." The man neared the end of his cigarette as he read the room. "Oh yeah, 'ol Phoenix here costed the syndicate hundreds of thousands of credits. Shit, maybe even up to the millions with how much we could have made from that person." There was no longer an atmosphere for negotiation in the private room and Ulhan made that plain and clear. "You're going to hunt this man. You're going to capture him. You're going to bring him back to us alive. We don't care how much damage is done to the local region because it won't be getting traced back to us. Just make sure that Deino comes back in one piece. Then maybe, just fuckin' maybe, the Szari will consider the debt paid."
Demagol weighed his options while gritting his teeth. He damned the fact that he couldn't remember what he had done, but he also doubted that something like this would manifest for no reason, out of chance. A gamble like that would be far too unlikely. There had to be some sort of validity behind the claim and he aimed to find out the truth. The papers were collected up as Demagol cleared his throat. "Alright, we'll do it. I don't fuckin' like it, but we'll do it. And Mr. Ulhan," Demagol leaned forward and ensured that eye contact was made. "I assure you that when our business is concluded, the Szari and I will be square."
"Very well. Good luck on your hunt." Was all that Ulhan gave in response as he stubbed out the remains of his finished cigarette and disposed of it in the respective tray. A barely noticeable nod was made in departure as he left the two bounty hunters in the room alone. The stillness clung to the air for a few moments, like tumultuous tension that was waiting to violently snap.
"I cannot make this clear enough, Demagol. I don't think we should do this job. We should just get on our ship and get the fuck out of here. Fuck a manhunt. Fuck a grudge- this indebted, cryptic bullshit. These guys are hiding something. They're gonna try to pull one over on us and I'm not about to get fuckin' smoked because of your past drama."
"Then stay on the fuckin' ship when we touch down on Grezik! I need to smooth this shit out. If I can figure out what the fuck I was doing before I concussed the absolute shit out of myself, then maybe I can move past that bullshit." Demagol scooped up the folder and its documents and beckoned Zerimar to follow him as he exited the room. "I know it's inconvenient as shit and I know these guys are sketchy. They're gonna try something and we're gonna be ready for it."
Demagol and Zerimar left the communal hub and made their way back to their ship. Curiosity tugged upon Zerimar's strings as they stepped up the ramp and into the spacecraft. "So what do you know about these Galmectus Form fucks?"
"Honestly? I don't know shit about them. They must be a new faction that's moving in to take some of the local pie. However, they must be the real deal if the Szari don't want to just take them head-on." The ship's ramp lifted and the spacecraft sealed up, coming to life as the launch sequence procedure calibrated their departure path from the space station. "With that in mind, we have to take into account the likely possibility that our target has heavy security around him. If he just recently deserted, then the Galmectus are gonna want to squeeze as much confidential information out of him as soon as possible. This ain't gonna be a sneak-and-grab, it's probably going to get loud."
"Ain't that what you're good at?" Zerimar perked a brow at Demagol as he rummaged through his equipment. "I deal with poison and tranqs while you handle the explosives?" Vials in hand, the Viper flicked his fingertip along a couple to coax the solutions to swish about. "Remember what the dickhead said, we're allowed to do as we please when it comes to engagements and destroying property. Anything they own they'll probably just cash in on insurance, and if they don't own it? They can't be traced, so not liable. So it's a win/win for them."
The ship's auto-departure sequence took them out of the docking bay and back into the openness of space. A pre-recorded path directed them down within Grezik's gravity well to the local metropolis. At first glance, it seemed to be a bustling center for tourism and travel. But when one got close they could see the harsh reality behind the canvas. A dystopia. A grunge-filled cesspit for crime and nefarious organizations where gangs could operate freely and all local law enforcement was paid off.
"I suppose you're right." Came Demagol's eventual response as he too went through his equipment. Let's make sure that we're good on PPE within an hour. These guys want a show? We'll fuckin' give 'em one."
Somewhere out in that city was the man they were looking for. The past crept closer from the recesses of Demagol's skull. Beckoning. Clammy digits clawing forth to pull away the veil. No matter how the mission went, Demagol was sure that he would find the answers he was looking for after this year and a half of static. His sanity depended on it.
Forever?
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
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Cold Trails - by deific - 09-08-2020, 05:35 PM
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