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| - It is either day or night. On the Concourse little light filters through the smog and high buildings crowd out the light of the sun. The neon, flickering hoardings do little to illuminate the gloom. Instead they cast vague shadows on the passing sentients. Nastaran Zohreh, a slight human woman leans against a grafitti-covered building next to a hoarding advertising machine parts. She has her head tilted back and watches the world pass by through her narrowed eyes. A tabac stick hangs from her mouth and her hands are shoved in her pockets. Her right leg is bent at the knee and she rests her boot on the wall. A man approaches through the crowds of rough looking life-forms, purposefully on his way to some business or another. With clothing like that, one would think he's on his way to the Pleasure Palace to lose a good deal of credits. There is something odd about his posture and stride that one doesn't usually see in the kind of carelessly, or criminally wealthy patrons of this area. The man pushes his way through a thick crowd of various species and slams hard into a very large Gran. "One would think with all of those Dianoga you call eyes protruding from your hideous skull, you'd have no trouble watching where you walk." His accent is thickly core-world. It gives him an even more pretentious air. A pretentiously stupid one at that, judging by the size of the fist that just landed on his already scarred jaw. The man sprawls across the busy walk-way, but doesn't appear to have learned his lesson. He throws a kick into the creature's knee. The Gran stumbles, lets out a furious howl, and begins to pummel the fallen man from his now kneeling position. Nastaran cocks her head to one side as she hears the commotion. A small crowd is forming around Elias and the Gran. The woman pushes herself off the wall and out of the grimy shadows and slips between the sentients to see Elias and the Gran fighting. She stands there, her weight on her right leg and her the fingers of her right hand resting lightly on the butt of her blaster as it hangs from its holster. She smiles tightly at Elias. "I'll be your second for a fee, Off-Worlder," she says to the human. The man lands a surprisingly hard hook to the alien's eye stock causing another howl of pain. This gives him enough time to get back on his feet. Before the Gran recovers, Elias turns his attention the the woman and eyes her curiously. He judges her slowly with an unsettling gaze, as if the little scuffle had never happened. "Child, you may fight on my behalf." A long pause as his steely grey eyes peer, unblinking, from the deep cavities of his skull. "Your pay will be commensurate with your performance." He barely gets the words out and a hard punch connects with his kidneys. As he buckles from the blow he brings an elbow down on his assailants head, bringing them both to the ground again. "I accept your offer of 200 creds," Nastaran says loudly as she gracefully opens her arms and rolls her wrists out, exposing her palms to the sky and glancing round the crowd. Judging by the smirks and nods of the sentients, they heard the non-existant offer too. She eyes Elias and the Gran on the floor as she crouches down and pulls a vibroknife from her right boot. "Payin' by performance you'd get nothin', ma'e," she mutters in an accent that is pure Nar Shaddaa guttersnipe then smoothly lunges forward, trying to press the vibroblade against the nape of the Gran's neck while he tussles with Elias. Her attack is sufficient enough to draw the creatures attention. He removes his hands from the strange man and with a swift motion grabs the girl's wrist, twisting it sharply, and wrenching the vibroknife from her grip. Elias quickly backs away and places himself on the sidelines where he can watch the action. Nastaran yelps in pain as her slender wrist is wrenched, annoyance at her plan foiled and pain in equal presence in her voice. She grits her teeth and quickly moves a few paces back, the crowd scattering to make way. "Oh, you just stand there?!" she snaps at Elias and draws her blaster, aiming it squarely at the Gran's chest. "Stop. Right. There. Sithspit." She orders him. A sinister smile sits comfortable on Elias' gaunt face. He clearly enjoys this turn of events. The Gran begins to garble out something in his native tongue. His tone is threatening, but he quickly realizes no one understands him, and switches to Huttese. *"You're making a big mistake, girl. Sorba will not be happy with my death. He will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy. Are a few hundred credits really worth crossing a Hutt?"* He doesn't wait for a response, but quickly reaches for his own blaster. "I don't *have* to kill you, idiot," Nastaran says as she thumbs her blaster on to stun and fires it at the enforcer. It spits out blue rings towards the Gran. The Gran drops to the ground, a large smoldering hole in it's chest. Elias discretely returns his blaster to the harness beneath his coat, as the crowd wonders allowed how a stun blast could have such fatal results. "You have done adequately child. Though, I would have preferred you killed him. There would have been more money in it." The man reaches into his coat and pulls out a stack from credits. He counts out 400 and hands them to the girl. "What is your name girl? I could have use for someone of your...talents." Nastaran curses aloud as she sees what happens to the Gran. She switches the safety on her blaster on and holsters it slowly. She turns and looks at the man as she takes the money. "Maybe you should find who did and pay them instead, since we both know I didn't and you've just admitted that fact...." Her eyes are hard, suspicious. "Never mind the Hutt's waste." Elias considers the still smoldering corpse a moment and continues speaking over his shoulder. "Sorba is a fool, and a minor nuisance. His pathetic excuse of an 'enforcer' had too many debts to live much longer." He turns his gaze back to consider the girl once more. "You have proven to me that you can handle yourself for a few credits. I may have work for you in the near future...Work that will pay...handsomely." He allows this sink in for a moment. "Now I shall ask your name one final time." "You could have just hired me without this rigmarole," Nastaran says flatly. She sighs and reaches up to run a hand through her hair. "Against my better judgement I'll tell you it: Nastaran Zohreh," she scowls at Elias. "And knock that 'girl' stuff and the attitude off otherwise I'll never work for you." She pauses. "It's polite to give a name in response." The man's creepy smile returns. "As you wish Miss Zohreh. You may call me Elias." the man says with a genteel bow. He rises, again with those studying eye, "You have fire. I like that." He looks over her once more, turns suddenly and begins to walk away "I will be in touch. Tell know one of this, the death of this creature will remain a mystery to the Hutts, and you will have to potential to be a very wealthy woman." "Sir yes sir," Nastaran says sarcastically then turns and walks off in the other direction.
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