Feb. 12th, 2009

stuck_mynock: (Sadface.)
“Baron Erran Magnus,” Atton called as he swept into the chamber, giving the enthroned man at one end an overdramatic, slightly mocking bow. “Atton Rand, Jedi Knight. You’re expecting me, I presume?”

Erran Magnus, head of a growing slaving ring that Atton had been sent to shut down, did not look like a crime lord. He was scarcely older than Atton, dressed in fine clothes and lounging arrogantly, but with nothing especially intimidating or powerful about him. If anything, he was outshone by the array of thugs gathered around his throne, jeering.

“Master Rand. Please, take a seat, tell me what you’ve come to bother me about.”

“Your business,” Atton said, lightly, remaining standing. “Specifically, your use of slaves as manual labour, and your slave trafficking to other businesses in this sector. I’m here to inform you that you’ll be releasing your slaves as soon as possible, and shutting down your slaving ring. You’ll be offered compensation.”

He didn’t expect Magnus to agree to that, and sure enough, Erran simply smiled, leaning back in his throne.

“We’re not in Republic space. There’s no law against my usage of slaves, and you don’t have any political power out here.” Magnus rose to his feet, sharply, wandering across the room to pour himself some wine. “Which is, of course, why they sent you. You’re a warrior, not a diplomat, aren’t you? You’re here to intimidate me, not negotiate. The Jedi feel threatened by some of my clients.”

Atton occupied himself with playing with some string. He knew crime lords - they liked to monologue.

“Let’s not be coy about it,” Magnus continued, “the Jedi don’t like that I’m selling resources and slave labour to various factions of the Sith. If you want to make me a better offer, you’re more than welcome.”

“We don’t do business with slavers,” Atton replied, sharply. “Nor do we need to. You can shut down your operations, and recieve compensation, or I can shut it down for you.”

“Try it,” Magnus grinned. “Make a move against me, and I’ll know. I’ll have evidence, and if I show that evidence to my business contacts? That’s Republic trade with us all cut off. It’ll be a considerable blow to your already ailing economy, I’m sure. I’m untouchable, and you know it.”

Atton considered this, then nodded his head.
“At least I can say I tried. I’m sorry for wasting your time, Baron.”

“Don’t apologise. I needed some amusement.”

Atton turned and swept out again, smiling to himself.

------

Marek Henna, mercenary, had been quite contentedly sitting in a corner of the cantina, working his way through a bottle of juma, when Atton sat down opposite him.

“So, I hear you work security at the Irimore Banking Complex, right? The place where Baron Erran Magnus keeps his money, I hear?” Atton smiled.

Marek just scowled.

“Come with me,” Atton said, grabbing Marek abruptly and dragging him from his booth, practically ramming him through the door to get him outside. Marek struggled, fists flying, until a quick, hard backhand sent him sprawling out in the street.

One hand tightened around the front of his shirt, pulling him up as Atton pulled out a holos.
“So, there’s a guy down in the sewers who can take a holo of anything, did you know? This one, which I asked him for yesterday, is of you. See, you can see yourself, right there,” Atton gestured at a very sharp, clear figure of Marek on the holo. “And I’m guessing that none of those people around you are your wife, seeing as they’re predominantly of the wrong gender and species, you know?”

Marek snarled, snapping his head forward into Atton’s nose with what he thought was a very satisfying crunch. He had scarcely started fleeing when a hand closed around his throat, slamming him up against the wall of the cantina.

Atton took a moment to heal his nose up, before raising one fist and smashing Marek across the face. There was another crunch, and Marek yelped slightly, raising one hand to his nose.

“Now, listen to me. I have plenty of copies of these photos, which I am more than willing to give to your wife, your employer, your friends. So, what do you say about making a trade?”

Marek took a deep breath.
“What kind of trade?”

Atton grinned, brightly.
“Firstly, you can’t tell anybody that we had this meeting. Secondly - is that your datapad, there? It has an uplink to the Irimore Banking Complex’s security archives, doesn’t it? I want blueprints, first, and after that, I want everything you know about the security there.”

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Atton Rand

August 2012

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