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"Except of course, whatever tricks the Merchandise has up his sleave. Fine. I will take the 100,000 and track him down. But remember, he must be captured alive. Or its both our asses."
The man glanced out the window and saw a merchant drive away with a pair of hookers. Typical, if it werent for the fact that the red head looked familiar. Behind his mask, the man frowned in thought.
"So where are you dropping me off?"

"I saw a Redheaded woman get into that luxury speeder over there. The Face seemed familiar to me." He said as he began flicking thorugh his database, finding nothing.
"The Woman seems to be a prostitute, perhaps the same red head I saw with Darksun a while ago. It would explain what she was doing with him."

((What the hell are we riding in? and are you aware its illegal to own a cloaking devise in New Republic space?))
"Care to explain to me why we're tailing a hooker?" Solms asked. "It was more than an hour ago when I last saw her. Maybe she's seeing her next client."

The Brunette was chatting amiably with their "Client" as the Redhead sat fuming about the situation they were in.
She hated this outfit and she hated this scam. This was the most degrading thing she could possibly think of doing.
Then a craft outside her window visibly cloaked itself.
The redhead frowned and squited, noting the ship's barely percieveable outline in the sky overhead.
She quickly turned to her companion and muttered something under her breath to her.
The Brunette shifted a cautious look to the window.
"Is everything alright ladies."
The brunette gave a coy smile to the man.
"Why of course spacer. Everything is just fine." She said in a distinctly unfeminine voice.
The man frowned as the two suddenly drew blasters on him.
The short sexy brunette's image faded as it became a short man in drag with a back pack.
His eyes widdened.
"If you think thats a suprise, then wait till you see whatelse we have in store for you. For now, have your driver keep it casual."

As Novara pulled the ship back tword the docks, he felt that this was not the way to go.

Slowly they pulled over the ship yard.

" So... were was it parked?"

Luger dashed under on to the panels and came up as soon as it stoped firing and lanuched a rcoket at it. The rocket blasted into one of its legs and severed it.

He ran to another solid spot and loaded the launcher again and waited.

Rook entered the section dedicated to his buisness, on the southern end of the city. It was a more corporate sector, but a decent place to be, as most fighting was pretty much unacceptable here on Manaan.

Through the main sliding glass doors of "Bukura's Rook", the company's name and front here on Manaan for hiding a mercenary group, Rook entered. The first level was nothing of spectacular value to see. Just a desk for security clearance, and then the building went to different levels. Xenethos had made the setup a complete joke, a bit of ironical pleasure.

The building had only three floors up and three floors down. Xenethos made the upper levels exactly look like what the building was for, a corporate building. Offices of buisness and management stood here, so deals and the more legitament the buisness, the higher up you would go.

The three floors below went the opposite direction. Instead of legitament buisness, the first basement dealt with simple fraud, the second basement dealt with simple theft, and the third basement dealt with simple deception. As Rook placed it, accountants were the first basement, insurance was the second basement, and last but not least, the shady mercenaries were the bottom rung.

This arrangement afforded some various nicknames. The main lobby, which Rook had just entered, was nicknamed "purgatory", and naturally, the bottom floor, his private workplace, nicknamed "hell". These nicknames were not given publicly, of course, as that would arouse suspiscion. So the basement was strangely renamed the "rookery".

Back to the story.

Xenethos went down the lift to the last floor. It wasn't small, but due to the lack of actual "buisness" that went on, it was a small training center, and the sole office for negotiations.

At least it offered a ocean view, something which really didn't impress anyone very much, as most people that came were not really artisans or ecologists at all.

"Dispatch someone to fetch the new arrivals." Rook said to a nearby associate, before entering the office.

"I don't think I could stand another Labrynth," Trey said as he stopped to watch the sea.

"Where the hell do we find this guy?"