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Thread: Running through the Shadows (Damon, Open)

  1. #21
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    There was a part of him that wanted to point out the name of his shop and how shady he had been this whole time. Doesn't know anything about that my beard! He bit his tongue. The last thing he needed was to exasperate the lad. He might pull out of the deal, and with no drone and no blaster Ryloth didn't exactly control the means of taking back what he would lose. Not at this time anyway. You can bet your credits that he would be back in a week with a whole crew to rob this punk for everything he had. There would be no profit there, but it would be a moral victory in the least.

    "No sense in that, anyhow. A military port ain't the sort of place to go digging. More trouble than profit. Any wannabe Darknet Runner would be wise to keep his head down 'round here. Liable to get caught before they even get past the front desk."

    Now it was his time to smile at his own joke, at Damon's expense. Naturally.

  2. #22
    Void frowned. He knew he was being played, knew he should say nothing or laugh it off, but still this little snot. Shouldn't he be digging for gems somewhere and picking bugs out of his teeth?

    "Or at least be smart enough to not talk about it in public." He said sharply. This guy had guts, sure, but was thick as the mud he belonged in if he was this brazen. He was wrong, besides. You could absolutely slice, run and hack from a place like Jovan - it was all about what could, and could not, be proven. Had he been visited by station security? Multiple times, of course. Could they ever prove he'd done anything? Not once. THAT is how you survive on a station like this. By being smart. This guy thought he was 7 feet tall, despite his actual vertical impairment. Probably the big fish in his little pond. Probably thought the same thing about Void, or worse this guy was just a really bad security officer trying to get him to admit to something.

    Void had survived in the heart of the Empire and only left when the profit, and real estate, was gone. He'd set up right under the Alliance military's nose and fit in like a dream. He hadn't survived this long by making stupid choices.

    They got to the large metal door that housed his private locker and pulled out a keycard, slipping it in to open the thick shutters, and turn on the internal lights. The place lit up after a moment in a dusky yellow from a single ceiling light above. He motioned him in and closed the door, instantly stealing the one seat and leaving the workbench to the guy's needs.

    "I had been planning on leaving the key with you and heading back to the shop - but suddenly I think we need to have a talk." He leaned forward a bit, "The cats and the Alliance run a tight ship on Jovan. Lots of station security. Lots of business owners who like it that way and are more than happy to pass over any security feeds they pick up that they think could threaten that peace and security. If you get my understanding." He said the last sentence slowly - dropping any subtlety he'd been engaging in. "Because you're right. A wannabe wouldn't last a week here, I've seenit, but I've been here for cycles."

    "Black Hat Bay is a name I use because it makes me laugh." He said bluntly, "Don't confuse that with this place either being a cakewalk or me being stupid."

  3. #23
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    Gotcha

    He smiled to himself; content with putting the little runt right where he wanted him. He had all but directly admitted that he was the very thing that Ryloth was joking about; and one with a very soft shell that couldn't handle a little pressure. Just a squeeze and he gave it all up that quickly. It was amazing he had survived this long considering the stories he'd heard about Cizeracks and their ideas of criminal punishment. He got the feeling a lot of criminals in the cluster never see the inside of a prison cell. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, but it definitely turned him off of doing business in their spheres of direct influence.

    The lad opened a door and inside was exactly what he promised, and some! There was a workbench. It was alright and all. Nothing like his own rig at home, but to each his own. Beggars can't be choosers and all that drek. The real treasure was the rest of the unit, which was stacked high with salvage overflow. No doubt a backlog of work the lad was in no position to handle on his own. From the looks of things it was a one man show up there. Running a counter for corposlaves while refurbishing trash and probably running elicit operations on the side. Where does the lad find time for sleep?

    Then the door shut and the lad got serious, and it took everything in Ryloth's power to not laugh. Instead he pulled his shades off, tucked them out of sight beneath his beard in the collar of his shirt, and crossed his arms with a big, blocky toothed grin on his face.

    "Keep yer trousers on, Laddy. I ain't here to piss in your soup. Like I said, I'm just here for the repair and to see The Lady. Force willing I'll be gone 'fore..." Turning his wrist over, he looked at the upside down chrono on his wrist. "... the next mornin' cycle. I ain't here to cause any trouble. Can't very much do that anyhoo. Not 'fore I fix me noggin' an' build a new Deck."

  4. #24
    The guy was either an idiot or a savant with how much bravado he had. Right now Void was leaning heavily toward him being an idiot - he was so convinced of his own handle on the situation. He would absolutely settle up if necessary when this was all over, this guy was going to get fragged in the wider universe, he was nearly certain of it.

    The young slicer gave a shrug and hopped off the chair, the frustration from before melting into pity.

    "Fair enough. Take the warning or don't. It's not skin off my neck if statsec has their way with you." He held up the keycard and considered. "Room is inventoried and monitored, so don't get handsy with the equipment." He sat the card on the bench and walked for the door. "If you use anything extra I'll expect compensation."

  5. #25
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    "Rest easy. I ain't gonna steal your scrap. Swear on me beard. I ain't some deckhead looking fer his next fix. A dwarf always settles his debts."

    Drek, this kid was suspicious as hell. Ryloth could understand. Somewhat. He was a strange man who looked the way he did. He did not look like the reputable type, not here on Jovan. Back on Nar Shaddaa this getup was good enough for church, weddings, and funerals. The jacket and shades came off for court hearings. This was a reason he rarely traveled to sophisticated worlds. He couldn't blend in, and he had no reputation to pull on. Sure, he could tell the kid exactly who he was and what he does, and could do, but that was not likely to get him anywhere on a tight arsed space station like Jovan.

    Bunch is arseholes.

    Reaching down to the front of his pants he pulled a thin metal bit from it's hiding place on the backside of his belt buckle, and with it he inserted into an indentation on the metal plate that ran along the side of his head, and popped the cover right off, exposing a mess of wires that connected the plate to the circuitry below, and ran seemingly into his cranium. It was all blinking lights and layers of thin machinery stacked on top of each other.

    "Don't happen to have a mirror, do ye?"

  6. #26
    Void stopped at the question and turned, attention immediately drawn to the wet-wire work on display. Now that was legitimately interesting. He took a step back to admire it, subtle wiring and circuitry, real old school work - nothing like what most systems would run these days. Honestly it was the first thing from the dwarf that had impressed him. Void fished around in the toolbox of a jacket he wore and found what he had been looking for - a small mirror off a speederbike, modified to have a slightly longer handle and thinner profile.

    It was a surprisingly handy little tool for watching around corners when working on terminals or servers you weren't meant to be on, as well as being thin enough to slip into the casing and frames of some systems to give him just a little more visual clarity when he needed to actually work in the guts of a machine.

    He sat it on the table next to him and took the time to look over the exposed brainbox from a few angles. His estimation of it being old school was on the money, he'd worked with similar technology on Coruscant when he'd held his own little empire in the lower levels, scrounging tech no matter how dated and slapping it into workable configurations.

    "What kind of speed are you pulling out of that setup?" he said with growing interest.

  7. #27
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    Taking the mirror he first turned it back and forth a bit, admiring the nice little contraption, before he turned to the work bench and found a nook in it's structure to wedge the handle of the mirror into so that he could free up both hands. Checking over the tools on the bench he selected a micro-spanner and a driver and applied them to the exposed compartment. The dataport went through all of the mess. Peeling back the outer-shell only left centimeters of the neck of the port exposed. Using the two tools he began to loosen and unseat the burned out port.

    "Level three down. Level five up. Nothing too fancy. Most modern tech ain't compatible with a brainbox like this. I have it customized for upload speed over download. Sending data, that sort of thing."

    He spoke absently, not getting too into detail with the setup. That would require more concentration then he was willing to divert from the operation at hand. Steeling himself, he the last tiny screw free of the assembly and set it aside with the others. Grabbing the port with the edge of the driver he nudged it slowly outward, using the surface of the plate for leverage. He hated taking the port out, and burning them out happened often enough. It felt like blowing a Seeker Droid out your nose, and when it was out it just left you feeling so empty you were afraid your head would deflate like a balloon.

    Once it was loose and sticking out enough he grabbed it with his thumb and index fingers and pulled it completely free of the slot. The port was attached to a dedicated power cell that made it chunkier than one might imagine in so delicate and tight fitting an assembly. At the very back of it was several wires that went back through the hole it was removed from. From the outside it looked like they went straight into his brain. There was not much slack on the cords, which made these replacements a pain. Always a pain. Using the tools he removed a few more connectors and the burned out dataport fell off, hitting the floor and skittering out of sight.

    Good riddance.

  8. #28
    Three down, five up was surprising. He'd expected a cap of 3 at best either direction considering the age of the pieces - he had to wonder if there was slightly more under the hood, so to speak, than what he could tell from looking. Focusing on upload over download was also very interesting as it meant his 'friend' here likely did his work while in transit or from someplace other than a base of operations. He wasn't grabbing stuff to pick through on his own time.

    He considered carefully, going over what someone with a rig like his would work on. It was like a puzzle to put together. Tough-guy bravado, body that, despite it's disadvantage, probably backed it up, burnt out jack and looking to unload data as quickly as he could manage.

    Why hello there my courier friend, what kinds of packets do you deliver? The slicer's estimation of the dwarf had gone up - and a thin smile broke out on his lips as he looked for an angle of his own in all of this. There had to be an exploit to be worked in all of this that benefited him. He sat back down in the chair, despite his earlier insistence that he was leaving to watch him work and ponder.

    Turning him in to enemies he'd likely made? It wasn't beneath Void, but it was also what a script-kiddie amateur would do. That wasn't who Void was, no matter how he came across. He doubted the little guy needed a friend or partner in all of this - what does someone like this need from someone like him?

    Safehouse. Jovan is nestled in the protection of the Cats and the Alliance, and Void had experience in fortifying himself anywhere he ended up - in both the digital space and the physical. After all wasn't that essentially the service he was providing now? A safe location to work on his kit. it wouldn't be hard to refashion the storage room into a more secure space to work from. He'd give the deliveryman his space for the moment, let him work, but he was already going over the offer in his head.

  9. #29
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    His fingers were already starting to ache from the delicate work. The fat sausages he called fingers were hardly built for this level of micro. In fact, working on a system like this yourself was heavily frowned upon and was a good way to cross a wire and fry your brain. He'd seen his fair share of kids brain dead in the gutters after trying to do some self modification or letting an unqualified friend try to fix something in his garage instead of going to a proper chop shop and having a ripper doc do the work himself. Yeah, that cost more, but it also meant you were much more likely to come out the other end alive.

    That wasn't saying much, as there was always a risk of dying in the chair.

    The new port was connected in short order and the assembly was pushed back into it's hole; an affair that involved gritting his teeth real wide and trying not to squeeze his eyes shut as the uncomfortable feeling racked his body. After screwing it back into place he used the mirror to check the rest of the case; looking for blood, burned out circuitry, or anything else out of the ordinary. It all looked fine, or rather fine enough until he could get back to Pattinkos' on Nar Shaddaa to get a proper fix. Carefully he stuffed the wire slack back in and closed the outer shell of the case.

    Once everything was shut and sealed he was able to run a diagnostic, the data playing out across his optic implant. The return signal was not entirely ideal but it was working. He could establish a connection to the Holonet through a local unsecured terminal. He could finally breath a sigh of relief. He almost felt whole again. Just one more thing.

    Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a piece of anti-static cloth and unfolded it carefully to reveal a short datastick about two inches long. It had no markings except for three numbers. 012. Taking the stick he plugged it into the newly installed dataport, and waited. It took a moment, a progress bar popping up in the interface slowly spreading until hitting 100%, and then his mind expanded. A second pair of eyes, a murmuring of data in his mind, and the feeling that he was no longer alone. Back in the transit center of the space station, nestled in with the luggage, a box opened up and something escaped into the air.

    "Ahh, that's betta."

    Cracking his neck loudly, and then his knuckles, he pulled the Cyka-Tok out and laid it on the table. One thing completed, now he needed to rebuild his deck. There was no way he could do his job without one. No slicer was worth anything without his tools.

  10. #30
    He had sat patiently and thought about what he could say, what he knew about couriers - which was admittedly not as much as he really should. Oh he'd certainly stolen information, brokered it even. But there was a difference between the sort of work he did and the sort that a dedicated runner did. Someone like his short buddy here transferred data securely. Sometimes stolen, sometimes not - but it always meant dealing with a particular kind of scum. Void preferred to steal information he could use himself or that could benefit him for leverage or blackmail.

    What he did know was that this needed a change in tactics if it was going to work. And a bit more directness than he'd expected to use.

    "You run data." He said matter of factly, not leaving room for debate. "I have to imagine that's left you with enemies." He was careful when he said that last part, even the slightly misinterpretation could come across as a threat, and if the burly slicer thought Void was threatening him this entire deal would be shot. "So I have to wonder what I can do for..." he paused, and rubbed the back of his head, "No, sorry about that. That's... you know, sales pitch? I get so used to putting on that face for the crowds it's hard to take it off." Make himself seem like a real person past the scuzzy junk dealer persona. I mean he was after all right? ...Right?

    "Anyway, on the level. Respect. Tough work. Has to be times you need to lay low off the grid, yeah?"

    Hook.

  11. #31
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    Ryloth's back tensed and he straightened up from the slight bend he could manage over the workbench, considering his height. His right hand tensed up so tight his knuckles were turning white.

    So the lad figured it all out, did he? Cornered him in this little room with no obvious weapons in order to do what exactly? Extort him? Fat chance of that. He turned on the shop owner, looking him in the eyes with his own real and fake set. The realistic iris of his cybernetic eye was gone, replaced all with a glaring red.

    "Don'tchu go stickin' yer nose where it don't belong. It's all shit down here, and you're squeakin' clean for comparison. Just lookit you. You don't look like you've got an ounce of chrome in yer whole body. If you're thinkin' we the same, you're dead wrong."

    He took a step forward, just to put the fear in the lad a wee bit, and then turned and hit the activator on the door into the room, which opened to reveal a floating black orb just outside. A modified DRK-1 Dark Eye Probe Droid. By all appearances standard and stock, but there was much more hidden beneath it's reinforced shell and obscured behind the claw-like exterior armor panels. It floated inside and the door was shut behind it. It moved over to above the work bench, and then turned and looked at Damon with it's unyielding black eye. It was not a droid, though. Drone, rather. Ryloth didn't trust Droids. This one was under his direct control.

    That was what the dataport and stick was about. That was the reason for all of this. To get this functionality back.

    "I'mma level with you. Jovan ain't exactly the sort of place I would go to lay low, if that's what yer suggestin'. If this weren't the lair of the Emerald Lady, I wouldn't come here at all."

  12. #32
    Void didn't back down, didn't flinch, didn't even waver. Ryloth wasn't the first tough to try and intimidate him, he wasn't going to be the last. You don't look like Damon did, like a stick of a human without everyone expecting you to be an easy mark. The way he casually tossed out he was here because of the, what did he call her, Emerald Lady? As if he was impressed with knowing the snake.

    "I like your bot." He said without a single change to his tone, he didn't try and intimidate back. He wasn't looking to get into a shouting match that would draw attention, even as secure as this location was it was bad policy to bring StatSec down on you.

    "There are three things you're wrong about in that statement." Void said with a calm and collected tone. "I've got chrome where it matters, I'm anything but clean and the fact that you wouldn't normally come to Jovan at all is the point."

    He turned from the dwarf demonstrating he wasn't scared or intimidated, least of all in his own storage locker. He hopped up onto the workbench pushing back a few projects with his palm to make space as he did so, only a few feet from where the Droid hovered.

    "Why would anyone expect you to spend one second longer on Jovan than you'd ever have to be?" He said flatly, keeping his palms braced against the bench as he leaned forward. "That's what makes it a great hiding space."

  13. #33
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    The lad had a point. But only barely one. Sure, his usual enemies would hardly come looking for him on Jovan. Most of his operations took place on Corporate worlds; Byblos, Nar Shaddaa, Coruscant, Kuat, Sullust, and the like. Jovan was very much not one of those places, and additionally it was a space station and a military outpost. The reason no one would think he was hiding here was because it was a dreking bad idea. There were fewer places that would be worse to go to ground on. The military would give him up in a heartbeat if they found him; after all, megacorps always got their hands deep in the military complex and their pockets.

    Secondly, if they did come for him here, there was no where for him to go. A planet is a big place, and a city planet is an even bigger place due to the density. There was was plenty of places to go, plenty of places to hide. Jovan was tiny by comparison. They could shut the docks down and comb the place one closet at a time until they eventually found him. He didn't have the kind of contacts here to smuggle him off station. This wasn't Cloud City, after all. That was an entirely different kind of beast, and he could survive there for years under lockdown. Jovan was all risk and absolutely little reward. And that was not even considering the string from which this carrot was dangling.

    "I've heard worse ideas. What's in it for you."

    Crossing his arms the red lens of his cybernetics shrunk down until it was only a pinpoint.

  14. #34
    Line.

    "Your continued business as well as a rental and maintenance fee." He said bluntly. "Plus an up front cost to re-fit this locker into something more secure. Taking out the back row of storage for a false wall and setting up in there with the essentials. I can't get you indoor plumbing, but I can retrofit some systems designed for camping and travel to at least work through the basics, as well as my assurance that I can remove you from any incoming or outgoing ship information and keep you off vid feed on the station. Assuming you don't just handle those concerns on your own." He held up a hand so as not to imply the other slicer was incapable.

    "More than anything though?" he leaned in again with a sly look, "I like a good challenge."

  15. #35
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    The lad had a way of sounding genuine, but Ryloth wasn't buying it for a second. Kid should became a politician with soft lips like that. There had to be more to this than he was letting on, and in his line of work he expected a certain level of backstabbing in all of his interactions, but there was also a sense of professional honesty that typically ran between slicers. He wasn't feeling it here, though. The offer wasn't all that great, either. A hideout he would probably never use would be an expensive drain on his purse. It really just sounded like the lad wanted to do some remodeling and needing some credits to do it.

    Still, not everything he said was complete drek. This was the last place a lot of his enemies would come looking for him, and most of them would not even set foot here even if they did know he was here. The Hutts and outer-rim warlords wouldn't even be able to get onboard much less have the elbow room to grease him. However, corporate assassins and military spec-ops would have no problems getting him here. I guess that meant changing up tactics a bit so that he never pissed in the Alliance or Empire's boots. There was no way to stop the Corposlaves from gunning for him. That was where his bread and butter was.

    There was, of course, another obstacle.

    "That's all well and good, but I don't have that kind of cred on me. So unless yer looking for an I. O. U until I can pay, I don't have the means t'pay for more than what I already have."

  16. #36
    The lack of credits didn't surprise him. He'd come to him needing to trade in crypto, and foreign crypto at that. He leaned back and thought for a moment, there still had to be an opportunity here, he just wasn't seeing the angle. He could do it on IOU, but that would come across desperate - make the whole deal seem even more shady than it likely already did. This was a potential continuous revenue stream, and the shop, while profitable was just a front. Side businesses like this, like his profit skimming set-up at the slug-races, slicing for private clients like ole' birdface, and of course various schemes through the holonet. That's where he made his real money.

    Dren he was loth-catphishing a guy online right now, playing the part of a 14-year-old Imperial Academy brat hard up for credits who just needed a wealthy and morally broken benefactor. There are some truly sick people lurking on the holonet, and Void was more than happy to exploit them. A bunker like this could net him a mint, especially if he could rent it out to the occasional individual outside of his new friend. If he wasn't going to be here most of the time, no reason not to put the space to use.

    Void bounced his head, debating the path to take. He could take the IOU, maybe ask him to come back later if he was interested - but that risked losing this venture entirely, or maybe there was something else he could do.

    Void leaned in conspiratorially, "I have a client who needs information related to Alliance ship and crew movements on and off of Jovan." He said simply, "Just the schedule that is kept, nothing serious - but that information is kept in a private server rack that isn't connected to the station's internal or external net. Physical transfer only. While StatSec can't prove I've ever done anything to get me thrown into lockup or kicked off station, they're very particular about me not getting near their precious hardware with anything even remotely resembling a storage device. Believe me, I've tried." He scoffed in frustration at his humiliating last attempt, the data stick had been hidden in a hollowed out section of his boots. He had expected to be stopped and frisked, but when they sat him down, removed his boots and then dissected them in front of him he'd all but choked. It was the closest to being arrested he'd ever come on the station, and spent at least an hour in the Security chief's office being lectured and berated before being forced to walk back to his shop barefoot.

    "But this is your job. This is what you do, right? Perfect little hiding spot." Damon pointed at the short man's head. "You get me that schedule and I'll front the costs myself. At least until you need to use the damn thing."

  17. #37
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    Ryloth saw the grease coming a mile away. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew the guy was going to offer him a job, and he was going to reject it immediately because he had a strong hunch it was going to be something grossly beneath him. Crack a few SINs to resale, clean up an illusive directory, or worst yet scrubbing data off the holonet. The kind of stuff he could do for lunch and wouldn't even be worth his time. However, the kid came out of the empty void with a job description that sounded more like something out of a spy holovid than reality.

    The boy needed to be set straight, and while he was loath to speak so freely about his profession when there could be recording devices in the room, he also was recording with his drone and saving the data, backing it up in his own internal redundant systems. No doubt the kid knew it too. That meant they were on equal ground with each other, and only the death of the other would prevent that kind of information from getting out, and neither of them were really in a position to kill the other right now. Ryloth had embedded weapons systems, but damn if they weren't a pain to operation. Literally.

    "I think yer might have the wrong impression. I don't do military installations, 'less they are corposlave private force; and even then I would be going in with a full team. Assassins, heavies, extra slicers, and snipers. Heavy explosives and top of the line weapons. The kind of stuff that levels the field when there ain't much of you and lots of them. I mostly do corporate seizures, and not the kind where you slip in through the kitchen like some pixie. I'm talking fast and bloody dangerous. Fly a repulsor-craft right up to the seventieth floor of the megacorp, pop a window, rush in, kill security along the way, crack the system, grab the data before they can scrub, and back out before they know what hit them. Sure, you can do it quiet when it works, but I don't exactly blend in most places; and def not on Jovan. I stick out like a hairy thumb."

  18. #38
    "I get it, I get it." Void said with an apologetic smile, "You work loud and obvious. I really should have expected as much." He raised his left hand to motion in a general 'just look at you.' fashion. "If you don't think you can handle a job like this, I can't exactly demand you do it." Void leaned back again, smile never faltering. There were a million pathways to what someone wanted, and while he preferred stealth himself - what the little courier was talking about was sometimes a necessary solution. Including during negotiation.

    Sometimes you just had to brute force your way in. "I guess I went out on a limb there, yeah? I thought you were on my level."

    His right palm braced a little harder against the bench, steadying him for the possible consequence that could come from the implication. If his read was right, this guy thought himself a number of steps above and beyond Void.

  19. #39
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    Now the kid was trying to play him the other way, and damn if he wasn't effective. If this was anyone else, and anywhere else, they would be one short joke away from getting shot through the boot and then kicked in the head while they're in the dirt.

    "Ah can do it. I never said I couldn't. All I said was I don't want to piss off a military force that controls half the bloody galaxy. That's a lot o' heat on my ass, and I ain't exactly warm to the idea of startin' over in the IMP. Sure they got Bespin and some titans of the industries over there, hell I hear they even got a dragon; but the Alliance is easy street. They don't even know what my kind of crime looks like over here. Bunch of babes. Like fleecing a blind nerf. Their systems are probably real vulnerable, easy to break. Yeah. I could do it. Of course the difficult part is getting access. Drone helps with that. Still not ideal. Can't run if I get caught. Can't fight neither. Don't got my blaster. Real shame that. Yeah, you looking for a schedule? I need some more details 'fore I sign on."

  20. #40
    The blow the thin slicer had expected never came and he relaxed his grip on the table, just a little. He was still dealing with a volatile little man, even as his new 'friend' seemed to be talking himself into the job. He loved that part. Where you wounded someone's pride just enough that they'd talk themselves up, build themselves back up, and in the process get on board with whatever you had plans for. It was dangerous work though, he wasn't a fighter, and he didn't trust he'd last a minute in any kind of confrontation with the stocky loudmouth. Especially not with the droid... drone? Whichever, hovering about. Of course Void was a schemer and a planner. It was all about finding, and exploiting, vulnerabilities.

    "You want specifics? I can give you this much, I need intel on one specific ship and one specific crew member. That's it. I need to know when they're expected on station, and expected off." He nodded a bit, "You come on board I can give you the hard data. Name, rank, which ship - but I can't offer that without a guarantee. Client confidentiality, I'm sure you understand."

    The talk of IMP space sat off with him, just a bit, like someone you don't know mentioning your family. He'd grown up on Coruscant. Cut his teeth in slicing and hiding out in Imperial systems, as easy to fleece as the Alliance was, there were days he longed for the familiarity of the lower levels. If this was an Imperial station he'd probably had less trouble accessing the server rack, in all honesty. Even if all other security features and restrictions stayed in place, there'd be someone to bribe or blackmail his way past.

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