I wouldn't miss it.  Word on Nar Shaddaa is that its to die for.

Message from Ztaka to Tyron:

Someone tried to kill you and I missed it? Frotz! Next year, tell your would-be assassins to make their move early in the party, so people who have to leave early won't miss the fun!

Seriously though, I'm all for causing trouble on Alderaan. Done that quite a few time in the past, although on a small scale. I'm all for going for a bigger scale. I'm not familiar with House Rist, but most of those noble types aren't happy when you mess with their property or their honor, from my experience.

Also, shouldn't you try to convince House Ulgo they shouldn't go after you, rather than House Rist? Go for the head, as it were? Or is it just to big a morsel for us to chew? (I heard of House Ulgo... They're a pretty big deal, aren't they?)

The sound of heels clicking against duracrete made it abundantly clear to Tyron that she was, in fact, leaving. His protests had done very little to deter her at this point.

"Cinia! Honey, wait. You blue-balling me?" The Zeltron whirled around, exasperated. "Ok, first off, Chiss and Wroonians probably find that completely offensive. Second, we've definitely just... for the past five hours. I'm late for something, and I'm sorry but the galaxy doesn't stop moving along just cause you fake died."

He looked at her, his lip going into that familiar quiver when he wanted something from her. It usually worked. Much to Cinia's chagrin. "But what am I supposed to doooooo while you're gone?"

Cinia threw her hands in the air. "I don't know, what am I, your mother? You can keep yourself entertained. This is important."

The man arched his eyebrow. "Actually, what are you doing? You still haven't told --"

She put a finger to her lips. "Shush. It's important, and for you. Now I have got to go."

"Is the slinky, short, neon green dress part of the whole --"

"Yes! Now for the last time, I have to go. Love you."

She finally made it out of his ship, and, while he was probably in there throwing some sort of Tyron-fit, Cinia smiled to herself.

'Benefits you, benefits me more.'

I'm pretty much never around Friday and Saturday nights, so it'd have to be the 24th and 25th for me.

OOC as well:

24, 25 work for me too.

I could loan you Dannik to help out with whatever you have in mind.  Should you want him around.

As always, I am good from 10:30 EST on on any day I know in advance.

Sha'ree/Cinia exchange (a.k.a. Sha'ree makes Cinia feel AWFUL because Jysella is being a jerk and making Cinia deal with this):


Plot device: the locket Sha'ree is wearing is essentially a mind control device. BECAUSE SCIENCE~

Musings of an old Jedi, archived and long forgotten wrote:

An assassin’s brain…what a morbid yet interesting study.  Anyone can kill; that has been done since the dawn of time.  But repeated successful assassinations – the cold, calculating act twisting the natural, instinctual act of self preservation to cross the void into a callous, often trite application –  often suggests a great underlying intelligence, superb cunning and unparalleled patience and determination.  All of these great attributes…wrapped around a faulty core.  Something deep in the emotional core is broken to allow such an action to take place.  So despite what typically is seen as an above average intelligence, the assassin is brain damaged from the start; cracked on the nest as it were…broken at the very basal level.  What fragile, fragile creatures….

Sha’ree wasn’t on the House Rist payroll just for her looks.  True, when Kolnak first set eyes on her, smoking was the only thought in his head.  But Sha’ree was beyond that, she was good at killing.  Unflinching over any assignment, Sha’ree would perform with outstanding results.  On the payroll, or even when Kolnak had the urge, she performed perfectly well on more ‘personal’ assignments off the House Rist payroll.  When the Ravein job came up, Kolnak knew Sha’ree was the one for the hit, especially given the mark’s penchant for women.

She touched down on Ord Mantell doing the same equipment checks she’d done what seemed like a million times before.  Comms, cameras, other tools of the trade…the selection for this evening would be a subtle blade, plenty enough to do another pompous noble.  “Beach Party” it said in the dossier.  Sha’ree grunted at that and made her selection from several sexy outfits.  Did they make outfits that weren’t sexy, she mused?  Bodybags, she surmised as her thoughts returned to the poor bastard in the file.  Final preparations done, she set out.  Arriving at the quaint village, she noticed she could recon the party from a railing right off the speeder stop. Idiots.  It wasn’t long before she picked out the young man.  Much better looking than the holo.  It had been years since Sha’ree killed a man with her thighs; she definitely needed to get this one alone.  She warmed below, and with a wicked smile tore her thoughts away from sweat drenched bodies and the sound of neck bones crunching…she decided this job just might be fun.

She made her way down to the beach, making smalltalk from the data in the mark’s file.  Images of Tyron’s associates were captured and streamed…a weasel-like man, could cook well but non-descript otherwise.  A pilot, nicknamed “Monkeyman”.  The women were more guarded.  Still, the food was good and work was work.  Let the slicers do their cross references…not her primary mission and none of her affair.  A doctor.  She caught him giving her an eye somewhere between lecherous and clinical.  He nearly made her shiver.  Great friends. Tyron was clearly distracted with a brooding woman who was shooting Sha’ree looks that would make a Savrip piss itself.   Ok you barvy  chulla, you’ll bleed just like a stuck gammorean, she thought behind a friendly smile.  Sha’ree soured inwardly as she let her previous lustful fantasy vaporize.  There was no way she was going to be able to pull this guy alone, away from this viper’s nest.  Mentally she could feel the odds of the mission plummet, but Kolnak was very clear that a move needed to be made here and soon.  Someone mentioned a swim --the cute Twi’lek-- and she jumped at the chance to possibly shake an opening out of the pending disaster.  Much to her chagrin, the Mantell seawater was too harsh on her equipment and all recording and transmission at that point was out.

******************************
Sha’ree returned from the mission, logging it as a success. Tyron Ravein – deceased.  This job came from way up though, and Kolnak hit the debriefing by the books…and didn’t like the results.  The post-event intel crew were picking up bits that corroborated Sha’ree’s report, but something happened there and Kolnak didn’t know what it was and he didn’t like it.  Was she too close to this job?  She seemed straight away too eager to please and her usual cool, collected nature didn’t return for a few more days. Kolnak decided to have a couple of his lieutenants keep tabs on her, but nothing eventful happened over the next several days after the assignment. 

******************************
Sha’ree rocked back and forth, her skin clammy with sweat.  Back and forth, back and forth.  Naked, save the locket she wore from Cinia, which was buried in the center of her clasped, white knuckled hands.  Her bedsheets lay twisted, cast off the side of the bed.  At some time she had sat up, but she could not recall when.  Back and forth she rocked, sitting cross legged in the center of the bed.  What happened?  She knew she killed Tyron, or at least gave it a good try. The doctor?  No, another woman…Jedi..not her though.  Back and forth, back and forth.  The palm of her hand began to feel warm and slick.  The locket  was gouging her palm, yet she refused to lighten her grip.  Pain…and that awful smell, then Cinia’s face and all was better…Cinia.  Why did she love her so?  Why couldn’t she remember?  Back and forth.  A bead of cold sweat dropped from her eyebrow, darkening the sheets where it landed, just as several others had…the same as last night and the night before.

Sha’ree couldn’t have known that when the mission failed, and she taunted Cinia to end her life, that Cinia would do just that…and then bring her back.  Although she thought she was ready to die, that ancient reptilian-like part of her brain wrapped snugly around the stem was not…and it was in charge of survival.  It fought to keep a spark alive as long as it could, and Cinia was able to snatch that spark and bring it back.  Nor did Sha’ree know that Cinia would repeat the cycle and go too far, shattering her fragile ‘cracked in the nest’ psyche.  The lizard brain did not know what it was called…hypothalamus, amygdala…these words meant nothing to it…but survival it did know.  The lizard brain stretched out, oozing through the cracks in Shar’ree’s shattered neocortex, locking down forever certain memories and images that might work against survival if they ever surfaced.

Back and forth.  Cinia…oh Cinia.  Sha’ree couldn’t explain the infatuation.  Oh, Cinia.  "She must die," the lizard brain whispered.  Sha’ree shot bolt upright. No! "Yessss…and Kolnak…everyone must die."  Sha’ree relaxed again and resumed rocking.  Back and forth, back and forth.  "EVERYONE…"
“N-no, not Cinia,” Sha’ree whimpered as she squeezed the locket tighter. Back and forth, back and forth.

*****************************
Kolnak noticed the locket.  Sha’ree always dressed the part easily enough, but was never attached to any jewelry.  Kolnak noticed her absentmindedly fidgeting with a locket several times in the last few days. His spine crawled with a bad feeling.  He watched her dart about the office.  She was nearly giddy. He called in one of his lieutenants. “Bug her.  Something’s up.”  Sha’ree never noticed the guy bump into her as she was rushing out the door.

Kolnak listened to the exchange in the Coruscanti hangar over the bug feed and grimaced.  So, the mark was alive.  Too bad….too bad for Sha’ree.  Kolnak reached for his comm. “Dohll, back up the local process on those files, and get it off-planet, then clear your crew out.  The slicers can stay, let them keep working.”

“What’s she going to do, boss?  Won’t she kill those tekkies?”

“That’s my guess.  But if everyone is cleared out, she’ll be suspicious.  This time of day, a couple tekkies would be the norm, and that’s what she’ll get.  Let it ride.  Who do we have in hangar security at the starport?  We need to keep that ship locked down.  Get a crew ready and head over there for when she returns.  Maybe we’ll find out where Ravein is holed up.  Then we can send him a message…something along the lines of a dead girlfriend.”

After years of overseeing assassinations, Hugo Rist knew instinctively when something had gone wrong. He could see it in the slight hesitation before his men spoke, in the way their eyes darted towards the door as if seeking an escape route. He could have spared  them their misery, but he did not. Instead, he waited, drumming his fingers on the hilt of the vibroknife in his belt.

"The L'Ciak played his part well, Lord. He led them against the droid and then abandoned them. But..."

The man paused, waiting for praise that did not come. Hugo simply let an eyebrow lift until the assassin recovered his nerve and continued.

"But, ah... when Ulgo's forces arrived, they found the droid destroyed. And no bodies. Later, our man at the spaceport reported seeing them there--"

"All of them?"

"Er... no, Lord. He did not see Ravein."

Hugo drew his knife, inspecting the blade. He smiled as his men flinched away. When he spoke, his tone was mild.

"The sensible thing would have been to get off-world... but I suspect our young friend is not here to do the sensible thing. He deliberately destroyed our most valuable property. That... ingrate has insulted our House for the last time."

With a casual flick of his wrist, the knife flew and embedded itself into the wall--the length of a hair away from one of his men. Hugo watched with narrowed eyes, smirking when the assassin flinched away, his reaction just moments too late. The man would be dead if he had been trying...

"Ravein is not off-world, and he was not with his friends. That means he's hiding somewhere on Alderaan. Find him--and anyone else who might have stayed behind with him--and bring him to me."

His men nodded and moved swiftly towards the door. One hesitated and stayed back, then spoke.

"Sha'ree reported him dead..."

Hugo's fingers found his dark goatee, scratching at a persistent itch. He had almost forgotten about the assassin dispatched to do the job in the first place... it would have been a dangerous oversight.

"Yes, she did. She has been compromised... if she is still on the estate, kill her. If not, we will deal with her in due course. Traitors receive no mercy."

The man nodded and followed his fellows out. Lord Rist turned back to his holoterminal, calling up a map of the old Panteer lands. The droid had been there... it was the best place to start looking.

"I will find you, Ravein. You and your friends will die for defying me."

The aftermath of the Syndicate's assault on House Rist has left their estate in rubble, Lord Hugo dead, and the surviving members of the House scattered and deprived of resources. Under the circumstances, all outstanding death marks, including Tyron, are probably safe. Bouris Ulgo is understandably furious to be deprived of such a key ally, especially given that the Republic and Empire are both pushing his forces back. The Alderaanian political scene will doubtless be dominated by gossip and rumors about the culprits for the foreseeable future.
_______

Thanks for attending this short plot! I may bring House Rist back for revenge later... and we've still got that Atzin jerk to deal with