You Wanna Buy Some Death Sticks?

Brak Quesh strode alone through the bowels of Corellia. He was usually surrounded by a squad of bodyguards, but this meeting was too important, too secret for any other eyes. Besides, he was perfectly safe. The Pyke Syndicate owned this area of the Corellian underground. The planetary security forces, CorSec, were strong – but even they didn’t dare challenge the Pykes here.

As Brak turned a corner, a figure approached out of the gloom.

“You wanna buy some death sticks?”

The Pyke Syndic paused. This was not one of their dealers. He shouldn’t be here. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.

“Nah. Are you buyin’ or not?”

“This is Pyke territory. You do not have permission to sell here.”

The slythmonger quailed. “I- I had no idea!” he stuttered. “Please, I’ll leave right away!”

“Yes, you will. Leave the death sticks and walk away with your hands where I can see them. Slowly.”

Brak watched the alien walk away with his hands over his head. Normally, he would let this be a lesson to the competition. Cut off a hand or tentacle and send them running back to tell the tale. This was his turf. But… this was a very important meeting and he didn’t have the time for fun. On the other hand… it was also a very secret meeting, and the death stick pusher had seen his face…

A flash cut through the gloom as Brak’s blaster bolt found its mark in the unsuspecting slythmonger’s back. He didn’t usually get his hands dirty – there were normally plenty of subordinates around for that. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one else had seen him, then hurried off. It would not do to be late.