trans_9 | A Wretched Hive of Gambling and Explosions [Open]

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A Wretched Hive of Gambling and Explosions [Open]

For those looking hard enough, the black market on XaXing shouldn't be too incredibly difficult to find - just look for the section of town where people don't look excited to be trading. Everyone in this little section of the market either looks like they just got away with a murder and need to keep glancing over their shoulders, or like they're about to get lined up for an execution. The more experienced traders here are clearly more at ease and looking as casual as possible, but there's still a distinct tension in the air.

An alien clearly designated as a police officer gazes down the street but, after a shopkeeper passes him and discretely slips some contraband into his hand, keeps walking.

An Iskoort and a human man dressed in black are relaxing outside the door to a store titled "Merchandiser, Brother of Hood Ornament Seller, Offers Exotic and Tantalizing Goods from the Far Corners of the Galaxy!". Under that sign, a few more signs detail how no background checks, down payments, identifications or collaterals are necessary. From inside the building, the sounds of a scuffle are audible, followed by the sound of someone choking.

The man in the doorway taps his cane against the window. "Keep it down in there!"

The Iskoort, Merchandiser, looks around a bit skittishly. {If you would allow me to purchase a sample of your superpowers, I could incinerate the body. I would pay a very reasonable price.}

"And leave nothing for your Mortician's Guild to clean up? Hardly."

Across the street, the shop that supposedly sells cactus extracts, but secretly specializes in drugs and hit contracts, lowers their blinds a few inches.

(( OOC: Here, have a criminal underworld! Feel free to tag in and run into other crew members ("what are you doing looking at faerie slaves?"), or into one of the underworld gurus here. If you want one of my NPCs to tag you, just put it in your post title. NPCs are Merchandiser and Dark Thomas Casey. ))

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For this section of town, the guns come out, Kickass and Bubblegun strapped firmly to his hips, the huge maul, aka Truck Stop, over one shoulder. Chase is pretty good at keeping people at a distance when he wants to be - and in this section of town, he's keeping his back near a wall and an eye on everyone.
He's not subjecting Inara to this part of town, letting her tend to her own business in nicer parts of town. Between the fact that he can regrow lost body bits, sold some memories, and has no shame or sense of modesty when people need models, he's come into money here and there, even if he gave most of it to Kang, and he needs a couple things that he's only going to find in a place like this.

That, and, honestly, he'd feel a little bad if he didn't at least visit the black market - it feels like home.

Despite that, right now he's really just up to two things - one, looking for other members of his crew that either look like they're feeling lost or out of place here, to make sure they stay out of trouble - or alternately, people from his crew who look like they know exactly what they're looking for and feel they'll find it here, but look like they could use a well armed, 6'8 wall of muscle standing over their shoulder to discourage cheats. In exchange, he's hoping he can get someone with more of a gift of gab than he has, not to mention a better brain for literacy and math, to do the bargaining for him.

Should he run into anyone he can trade such favors with, then he'll start considering finding a suitably useful black marketeer.

{Stranger! How much would you ask for your hammer? We will pay a very reasonable price!} Merchandiser practically trips over himself rushing up. Dark Thomas stays lounging in the doorframe, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Merchandiser's enthusiasm. Iskoort.

"Hammer is not for sale, non-negotiable. But I might be willing to trade memories, a couple fingers... but I need a few things. Nothing too expensive, but it might draw a little attention elsewhere."

{Fingers! I would be most excited to purchase your fingers! We offer very reasonable rates for memories, too! Come inside!}

"Something about this doesn't scream daylight business," Dark Thomas says, opening the door and dramatically gesturing for Chase to enter.

He keeps an eye out, trusting in superhuman senses and obvious physical abilities to warn him if there's too much danger.

"A couple or few fingers, sure." Those grow back. "And what kind of memories do you want? I've got some fun ones. But anyway... I need a full weapons manufacturing kit, including conversion tools to turn semi-auto weapons to full auto, scope calibrators, ammo loading scales... what's more, I recently lost my demolitions and security bypass people. I need... learning tools. Not worried about hacking, but I need everything I'd need to train a new demolitions expert, placement and disposal, training people to bypass electronic security... the works. Books, video discs, replayable memories of someone learning to become a demolitions or systems bypass expert... all acceptable. I have the trainees, I don't need an expert for a job... I just need the course materials to train my own to replace the one I lost."

{Any type of memory! The more exciting and emotional, the better! You also needn't fear that they be traced back to you, we ensure the highest standard of anonymity upon the resell!} Merchandiser moves his head down to examine Chase's fingers. {Will you also be interested in selling your thumbs?}

The shop seems pretty mundane, except that it smells like blood and like something just burned.

"All of that makes it seem like you've come to the right place," Dark Thomas says. "The replayable memories are probably your best bet-" They're also the most expensive of Chase's suggestions, but Thomas won't mention that yet. "And you may see here that we have only the finest weapons manufacturing items." He places some examples on the counter as Merchandiser draws the blinds.

"For a good enough price, I might be persuaded to sell one thumb, sure, but you'll have to make a good offer. Exciting I can definitely do - especially if you like illegal activities and lots of eplosions and gunfights. Industrial sabotage and demolitions, large scale arson, assassinations, theft of corporate and international secrets... all can do. As many of them as you need for us to make a deal here."

He examines the items offered up, inspecting them to make sure of quality and durability. "These are good." he replies, picking out the best items, making sure he has a complete set, rifling kit, calibration tools, powder scales, a full run of bullet molds, conversion kit - he's sure it won't be cheap, but he's also sure in a place like this he has the memories to pay. Plus, of course, he can always sell body parts, as long as he makes sure he keeps enough to fight his way out of a situation, should one arise, and then he'll have an hour or two to recover. Beyond that, it'll all grow back.

"I agree, the memories are probably my best bet, but I want to make sure of two things... one, I have /everything/ I'll need. Bomb disposal, explosives construction, electronic security work... so I'm thinking I should buy what you've got. Memories, training manuals, video... I've got all sorts of memories of illegal activities, heavy on action, and could throw in some XXX content if that's what it takes to make a deal. So make me an offer for the full kit of gun mod gear, and one of everything you've got for wetworks, demolitions and insertion training."

Merchandiser looks about to wet himself, if that's possible for an Iskoort. Being the one more knowledgeable in weaponry, Dark Thomas takes over. "A hundred and ten hours of your most exciting memories and your left hand."

Surprisingly, given how painless memory extraction is and the quality of the kit and replayable instruction memories, that's not a terrible deal. Thomas studies Chase carefully, daring him to reject the offer. "You do have a hundred and ten exciting hours, don't you?"

Its not a terrible deal, and 110 hours of sex and illegal violence isn't hard. That's just a good couple months some of the time back home. Most people would balk at the left hand, but really, what does he care? It'll grow back, and its not like he hasn't lost organs and bodyparts before. The removal wouldn't be as bad as the kidney had been.

Still, this is a merchant, so he has to negotiate a little, and get what he can out of it.

"I've got that, but if you want that many movies worth, you'll have to sweeten your end. Throw in the recipe for Southern Comfort... its a type of fruit and spice whiskey... sure, that'd involve selling corporate secrets, but I bet you can get that, resourceful guys like you... if you can get that, you've got a deal and I'll throw in a free orgy memory, provided all the training materials pass inspection."

He's pretty sure, if he gets the formula, Howard could duplicate something like it.

"Whiskey, eh? I'm sure we can manage to find the company secret. You're not the only one who's been involved in corporate theft." Dark Thomas grins. "That's a pretty acceptable deal, isn't it, Merchandiser?"

The Iskoort looks practically apoplectic.

Dark Thomas scrawls an address into a notepad and gives it to Chase. "We'll do all the exchanges tomorrow, once we have the recipe you're looking for. It wouldn't do to have us meet any more than necessary, and we like to do everything at once. You have our word that we'll be there."

Chase looks between the two, then nods. "Specific whiskey, remember the brand. Southern Comfort - the 100 proof is preferred, but I'll take whichever. I'll be there." he agrees - right after he has someone he trusts discretely read the address for him, and makes sure he has someone on backup, just in case. He's pretty sure this is a good enough echange for them that they'll keep their end.

"See you there, and nice doing business with you."

Anything could be bought. Anything at all. For a price, the proper price.

That was almost intoxicating. The liberty that gave them, the ability it provided. Anything was possible. He'd need to explore it to greater extent later.

He had been looking for a place like this, a place that he knew had to exist in this world where price tags could be applied to anything.

He had a promise to keep. Several of them, by now. Promises were tricky things when you gave a damn about them. Tangled mess of things, by now. But he had been looking for this shop and it's shop-keeper. "Good evening, gentlemen. I'm interested in making a rather unusual purchase."

Sam was behind him, he hadn't even bothered explaining what his intentions were, but here they were.

And here was where they may part ways.

Sam didn't know exactly why they were here. Iniss had said something about trying it 'our way', though he had no clue what 'it' was. Still, he'd followed the Yeerk in order to find out what 'it' was and to keep an eye on Tom.

Looking at the area they'd found themselves in, he was glad of that part, at least. Mostly, he just backed Iniss up right now. Whatever that unusual purchase might be.

"Oh?" The human looks between the two of them, clearly sizing them up. His hands rests on his cane. He has an accent that, were he on Earth, would have marked him as Irish. "Then I believe you've come to the right place. Merchandiser is an expert on unorthodox tradings."

He looks back at Merchandiser and slips back in the door. "I'll go tend to the last customer." By which he means he's going to incinerate them.

Merchandiser practically lights up in excitement. His accordion-waist whines in a most unpleasant off-key squeal. {I will give you the most excellent deals if you are interested in trading something rare or exotic. As you can see, my shop specializes in all the most unusual deals. We will be an excellent match. What is it you wish to purchase?}

"A body." The words were simple, and the bag he carried clinked softly as he moved. "I have something that may be of interest to you, considering your species. A substance that allows you to survive without leaving your host for feedings. It's a rare and exotic food that is available only on the ship I travel on, surely more than enough for two bodies, in fact, surely one bottle of this substance would leave you indebted to me, wouldn't it? Two bottles, ah...well, one should never over pay, should they?"

Long practice lying through his teeth kept Sam from starting at Iniss' words. He glanced over at Iniss, then back to the 'Merchandiser'.

Yep. Still no idea what was going on. He was okay with listening for the moment. He'd speak up when he actually had a clue.

Merchandiser is obviously excited - his Nanny-ish whining starts doing sixteenth notes - but he keeps looking between the two of them. {A body should certainly be arrangeable, but a bottle of your fine substance may not be enough to cover the transportation from the morgue to here.}

The human pokes his head out the door. "Possibly he should have mentioned something five minutes ago. But we like flat rates, and a half-bottle just isn't enough to cover a body apiece. Especially if you're looking for anything more than a corpse."

{Yes, yes. I will need to know more specifically the specifications for this body before I can determine what a fair price would be.}

"Capable of hosting a parasite, no sentience, living is rather important. A house with no one up stairs. About the same age as my current host, though I don't know if my companion has any preferences." Iniss tipped his head, relaxed and calm. This was almost fun. He should try more haggling, once this was done. "Surely such a chemical, one that you can analyze and mass produce, would be worth far more than the price of two such simple things? I could be making you millions of credits in this market."

< Okay. So, what? These creatures live on the...whatever it is that you guys do? >

Schmuz made a considering noise at the back of Sam's head. < Apparently so. And, apparently, there may be far more of them. >

"The main preference I have is 'short'," Sam said. Since he knew that was Schmuz's main issue with him. "Somewhere about 5'6" or a bit shorter would be good. Age isn't a big deal."

"Surely if it's so easy to mass-produce, you wouldn't be so hesitant to give us a fair rate at two bottles."

{Would you be interested in allowing us to use your own genetic material to create a body?} Merchandiser asks, hoping for a way to do this while leaving as little loose ends as possible. {We could alter the size of the body to suit your wishes.}

"Surely if you were seeking a fair price, then you would see that one bottle is more than enough. Though for the sake of balance, I would be willing to pay a bottle and a half." The smile curled his lips, eyes in shadow. "Using the genetic material is fine, I have no objections." He glanced at Sam, raising a slow eyebrow. "I'm certain my associate shares the wish for this to be done as quickly as possible."

Sam paused a moment, then, "If there's a way to mix the same for me? I'm not that keen on having a double around. And everybody in my family has been pretty tall." He nodded, though. "I agree, I want this done as quickly as possible, too."

< Nothing against you, Schmuz, but I think we'll all breathe a bit easier when we're separated. >

< Your brother certainly will. >

"We'd be willing to settle for a bottle and a half," Dark Thomas says. He delegates the actual process to Merchandiser, who is much more skilled in this sort of thing. "Payment up front."

{We can have it done within the weekend for such fine customers. We will need samples of your blood, or of your host's blood, if that is the case. And of course we can mix the DNA with other samples, if you'd like to provide them or would have us mix it with his sample.} Merchandiser gestures with a tentacle at Iniss. {We will provide the highest quality host body.}

"I find that acceptable." He reached into the satchel, pulling two of the four jars he had brought with him free. "I will require another vessel for the half."

He glanced at Sam, arching an eyebrow in question. "I have no objections to mixing, my host is shorter than you, after all. It should produse the desired results."

< That's weird. >

< Are you objecting? >

< No. It's just weird. Like you're bargaining for my brain damaged child or something. >

< It's not your child. Or Sam's. It's a clone, designed for this purpose. >

"That time line would be acceptable."

"How quickly would I have to bring another sample back?" Sam asked. "I admit, I'm not in as much of a hurry, but a third sample couldn't hurt, right?"

He wasn't sure yet who he'd ask. Probably the first person he really knew. "But yeah, that timeline's fine with me, too."

"You aren't related, are you?" Dark Thomas makes a hand motion like he's measuring Iniss against Sam, then retrieves a steel canister from inside the shop.

{If this timeline is suitable for you, we would need to mix the samples within the next few hours and begin the process fairly immediately. Our technology is some of the most advanced in the galaxy. A third sample would not b harmful, but it would be unnecessary for the viability of the clone. While I am drawing your blood, would you be interested in selling some of your memories as well?}

"No. Unrelated. Different universes entirely."

He paused, glancing at the creature. "And what would you pay for memories?" He rolled up his sleeve, allowing the human to take the bottle and pour a measure of it into the other vessel.

Tom flinched internally, trying to withdraw.

< Seriously, needles? >

< I don't...like them, ok? They hurt. It's stupid and it childish, but I don't like them. >

Sam nodded, giving it a moment of consideration. The admonition against being related left Dean out. And it felt like there were few enough regular humans that he knew. "I'm going to assume that it's going to require blood? No other sample?" That would be harder.

Of course, the only person he could think of was Xander and that was definitely going to be weird.

{We pay fifty credits per event in your memory, but of course, memories of especially unusual or exciting experiences will fetch a much higher price. We currently have very high demand for memories of crimes committed, and of course, with our reputation you needn't worry about them ever being traced back to you.} Merchandiser wheezes. {Only blood. Other samples may be more difficult to use or procure.}

"Clean blood, too. None of that nosebleed garbage." Dark Thomas hands the half-empty bottle back to Iniss.

Iniss tucked the half bottle back into his bag. "And for the rest of the substance, what would you pay? Crime, hum?" Oh he had a lot of those, Tom had quite a few as well. "What sort of crimes? Blood is fine. Take your samples."

Sam raised an eyebrow at that and gave it some consideration. Given some of the stuff that he'd done back home...

No. No amount of money was worth sharing the elation and terror of breaking the final seal and freeing Lucifer. They could go hang.

He rolled up his sleeves. "Blood's fine. I don't know if I can get anybody else, but if I do, I'd bring them back within the hour."

Merchandiser taps Iniss' arm to find the vein and then clips a tiny octopus-shaped suction cup to it. There should be a little pinching sensation. After a few seconds, he removes it. {Any sort of crime! The more terrifying and scandalous, the better! While you are here may I interest you in tickets to a memory show? The plaza down the street is sold out for its Nightmare Extravaganza, but I'm in possession of special tickets. The price, of course, would reflect the scarcity of the tickets...}

He scoots over to Sam and taps for a vein there too.

He didn't even flinch at the tiny pinch, following the bobbing creature with his eyes and rolling his sleeve back down. "I'm not interested. More than enough nightmares caught in this head already."

< Hey. >

< You have a vivid imagination. Lucky I can muffle you. You won't have that anymore, after this. Will you miss it? >

< No! > But Iniss could feel the lingering uncertainty. It had been a long time since Tom had been himself with no hope of a Yeerk returning to take over again.

"Should we return in a few days to collect the bodies?" He wasn't quite sure why Sam was insisting on coming back with another sample. It was just a body.

Hell, even Sam wasn't entirely certain. Other than it would randomize things a bit. He didn't mind Schmuz looking like him, it was just that...

< Humans like their individuality. We Yeerks don't mind so much. But, then, we all look pretty much the same anyway. > Schmuz wasn't insulted. He'd picked up enough about humans and about Sam in specific to make certain jumps of logic.

"We're here for about a week, but we'd like to have the bodies as soon as possible, really."

Merchandiser's whining takes on a melancholy turn at Iniss' refusal. {Would you still be interested in selling your own nightmares, then? They can fetch an excellent price on the market and I assure you, they would be completely anonymous.}

"Come back on Tuesday and they'll be done." Or the shopkeepers won't be here anymore. Dark Thomas takes the little suction cups from Merchandiser and takes them to the back.

"Yes, how much will you pay?" The little curl of his lips was entirely relaxed.

< What are you doing? >

< You have a great store of them, don't worry, I'll give you half of whatever they give me. >

He nodded faintly at the time-line. "Acceptable. Sam, any objections?"

Sam looked at Iniss and took his shoulder, tugging him back. "Tuesday will be fine," he said, using his larger frame to get leverage to pull the Yeerk and host away from Merchandiser before leaning down. "If they're your nightmares, fine," he muttered to Iniss. "You can wait until Tuesday to sell them. Tom's aren't yours to profit from." There was steel in his voice, a promise that it would not do to push him on this.

Merchandiser looks confusedly between the two buyers, waiting for them to settle their little row before making his offer. {Seventy-five credits, eighty-five for exceptionally unique memories. We will meet you back here on Tuesday.}

He let himself be pulled back, tossing Sam a curious look as he returned the muttered words with a few of his own. "You humans have hundreds of dreams a week, most of which you don't remember. He'll take no harm from it and I'll share the cash. No harm, no foul. Why is this a problem?"

There was honest confusion in his voice, head tilting to the side. He'd seen the nightmares, they might as well be his own, and the credits offered would help him secure items on the planet.

Tom was silent, a deliberate blank of no thought that he had almost managed to perfect over his years as a host.

"Because they aren't yours," Sam pointed out again. "It doesn't matter how many dreams he has, they don't belong to you. You're in control of the body, but his mind is still his own."

Sam raised his head and smiled. "Thanks but no thanks. We'll see you on Tuesday." And he wasn't letting go of Iniss until they were away.

He needed to contact Dean, too.

If Zedd was going to survive his time on board the ship, it was best that he got the supplies needed to do so. Though, most of his supplies would be more along the line of minions strong enough to throw around most normal humans. He'd already bought a few pieces of junk that would serve wonderfully as minions, but he needed something... more.

Dark Thomas looks over at that person coming down the street and motions for Merchandiser to follow his gaze. "Can we help you, lad? You look as if you're looking for something."

{Yes, you look as if you have very many interesting memories to sell!} Merchandiser whines.

What is it with these things and selling memories?! Zedd thought, resisting the urge to facepalm.

"Yes, I am. What can you do about making life stuck with a bunch of goody-goodies bearable?" Zedd said. "Believe me, if I could, I'd kill them all, but at the moment, that seems a bit on the impossible side."

Dark Thomas actually laughs at that. "Oh dear, ye poor thing. You have to team up with them against a greater evil, don't you? Do they make you follow all their silly little rules?"

Zedd growled at that. It was if he was reading his mind.

"Yes." He uttered. "Nothing more embarrassing than being kept on a leash like that...!"

Dark Thomas chuckles. He's seen enough villains in his time get locked into helping out the S-Men or other superhero factions. "And how long do you expect to be caught in this predicament?"

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A Wretched Hive of Gambling and Explosions [Open]

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NPC me!

Re: NPC me!

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