"Oh I do not believe it was an accident merely that it is still possible. Just like the Level 21 crew doing it is possible but seems unlikely. The Downside Kings or an unknown party are heavily suspect."
"I didn't know him personally, but Duravor was a decent guy," Darshe remarks, having joined the others after finishing up his tinkering. He didn't like talking about his days in the Diaspora much,
but it was more than a little relevant in this case. "Big advocate for miners' rights. Too many companies care more about credits than their workers - like Astral Excavations." The soldier spits off to the side, as though the name had some horrendous taste to it. "Was looking forward to meeting him personally."
With a frown, he adds, "I'm no genius, but tackling big corporations like that is bound to make you a lot of enemies."
"{Perhaps, but without any proof this is just speculation right now. We would need to find some conclusive evidence...then again, that is our job, so hopefully we will find the evidence should they be guilty,"} Valorus followed closely. {"That being said, it does seem like a large coincidence if it was by accident."}
--=Information on Astral Extractions=--
Astral Extractions is a powerful mining conglomerate with business ties throughout the Pact Worlds. Most of the company’s operations are centered in the Diaspora and the rocky moons of the outer planets, but it has also begun sending scout vessels into the Vast in search of new claims. The company recently hired one of the Hardscrabble Collective’s ships, the Acreon, for one of these exploratory missions.
The public face of Astral Extractions is that of an ethical and respectable corporation, but outside of the public eye, some say the company uses hired muscle—corporate mercenaries, strikebreakers, and even criminal elements—as proxies to intimidate and threaten those who stand in its way.
--=Information on the Hardscrabble Collective=--
The Hardscrabble Collective is a clan of stubborn asteroid miners that operates primarily among the scattered planetoids of the Diaspora. It has no offices or base of operations, but the clan members usually view the Armada—the ever-changing fleet of ships that orbit Absalom Station—as a central gathering place. Collective crews hire their ships out to a wide variety of business concerns, including Astral Extractions, which recently employed the Collective ship Acreon to scout for new mining prospects in the Vast.
While the Hardscrabble Collective calls itself a clan, it is more of a cooperative business enterprise, a coalition of dozens of ships’ crews who have banded together for mutual benefit and safety. While some of the Collective’s members are related, most of them are individuals from a dozen different races: humans, dwarves, androids, ysoki, and more. Nevertheless, the Hardscrabble Collective is as tightly knit as many families, and members fiercely look after one another’s welfare.
Following the arrival of the Acreon and Astral Extractions’ claim on the ship and the Drift Rock, the Hardscrabble Collective contracted with an Absalom Station street gang called the Level 21 Crew to protect its members and its interests on the station until the dispute can be resolved.
Krevlor shares what information he knows before adding.
"Given what we have found out I would think it prudent for us to approach the Level 21 crew. As an associate of ours was killed under arguably their protection they'll likely want to see Duravor avenged just to make sure their reputation remains intact. Though it comes with a risk so we should stay armed I think in case they are- agitated by our presence and past actions." Krevlor looks around to see what the others thing.
"Yeah, no kidding," Darshe replies, rubbing his neck. "The guys we put down didn't come from their gang, did they? Interfering with their turf war is one thing, but I doubt that they'd take kindly to us killing their members."
"I think we only actually killed Downside kings." Herald says.
Herald will sigh and idly play with his solar mote. "Well, we've probably already been spotted or at least reported on by the people here. They seem to have the public's respects in this sector." he says.
"Indeed there are some individuals wearing their livery headed towards us." As the strangers approach Krevlor will salute them.
"I am Krevlor. Me and my associates would like to speak with a member of your group about the unpleasant conflict that occurred recently at Dock 94."
The pair of gang thugs stands before the kasatha in an easy stance, though their hands stay close to the handle of their laser pistols. "So you're the nosey gits who've been asking around here about our crew. Thought you'd have had the sense to hide or run, but it seems not so much."
As the two gangers confront Krevlor in the middle of the narrow street, onlookers slow their paces to watch, and a couple of gang members saunter up out of an alleyway nearby. One of them is a man with a flattened brown mohawk, and the other a woman with bright red hair who glares at Herald with seething malice in her eyes. She is wielding a large knife, while he is swinging a club casually in his hand.
"Don't worry about them," the first ganger says, "they're only here for if things get out of hand. The boss told us to see who's been poking about and find out their business - so what say you?"
Herald glances at the woman with the bright red hair and double takes. He smiles at her, waving. "Oh hi, Adine! Am I glad to see you!" he says with genuine enthusiasm. "I'm actually really glad we didn't kill each other, 'cause that would have been a really embarassing misunderstanding."
He turns to look at the guy who addressed them. "We're poking around 'cause of that fight on the station dock, actually. See, we discovered that the other guys were the Buttfu-err... Downside Kings and in the middle of the mess was a guy that got shot. A guy who works for the Hardscrabble Collective. Duravor Kreel."
As he talks (slip of the tongue intended) he has an easy, disarming smile and does not look anything like a guy who had, just a while prior, had been trying to shank a woman with his knife during a gunfight.
"And I heard from a few little birdies that you guys had actually taken on protecting the collective. Which means that we actually have mutually aligned interests. So, if your boss is amenable to it, I would like to chat with him about the situatino here with the collective and what he's dealing with."
He gives Adine a wink. "And also apologize for exploding all over Adine's face." he adds, his expressin regretful.
Looking at herald Is he flirting with her? Curious
"We have no wish to fight you at this point but are prepared to defend ourselves if things get out of hand." Krevlor is quite sincere in this, he believes they could win a fight with those seen here though wouldn't put it past them to have more waiting in the wings.
"Your side of the story could be enlightening and if there's any information your leader wishes to divulge about the Downside Kings could be mutually beneficial."
At Herald's words, the leader of the group of gangers cracks a smile and shakes his head. Even Adine rolls her eyes and shakes her head, allowing the barest of smirks to cross her lips as she lowers the knife into a relaxed grip.
"Alright then, you seem to be on the solid," the head ganger says, shifting his stance and uncrossing his arms. "We'll take you to meet with the boss - am sure he'd be interested to know how mutual these interests are regarding the Kings." He jerks his head in the direction from which he and the other ganger had walked."This way. Keep up."
The streets are narrow, but onlookers and passers-by seem to give the gang members - and the group by extension - as wide a berth as possible as they make their way through the maze of alleys and walkways. After a slightly confusing walk that takes seven or eight minutes, the group finds themselves in front of a small, crowded grocery store, a painted metal sign on the space above the doors announcing the place as 'Mama Fats.' Adine and the other gang member she arrived at the confrontation with stay outside of the bodega, while the two lead gangers enter the store, stopping only nod and smile at a diminutive halfling woman with greying hair and seated on a stool behind the register.
The gangers lead everyone through the narrow aisles of the grocery store, its shelves packed with cheap canned goods, bags of spices, and easily preserved raw ingredients. One of them raps his knuckles on the storeroom door before walking in, while the other stands outside of it and ushers the group into the room with a smirk and an abrupt jerk of the thumb. "The boss is in there. We'd advise keeping your weapons in their pockets unless you care to find yourself staring at the inside of a compacting station."
The cramped storeroom on the other side of the door contains several pallets of stock for the store, and the dim bulb is barely sufficient to light the area. At the rear of the room is an opening to a further back room which is only visible because of a harsh yellow light coming from within.
Surprisingly spacious, the room contains a large circular table with several gambling chips stacked in the centre of it and playing cards scattered around as if a round of cards had been interrupted in the middle. Seated at the table is a grizzled ysoki male with one cybernetic eye set in amongst several deep scars in his fur glowing in a baleful red colour, and his natural eye is likewise a bloodshot red colour. He wears a purple half-cloak secured around his neck over top of a flightsuit, and he has several shot glasses and a bottle of clear liquid in front of him. The lead gang member joins two others in a guarding position at the rear of the room.
"Come forward, friends," he says, his voice raspy but clear enough, " and take a seat at old Jabaxa's table. Can I interest you in a drink?" he asks, pouring the clear liquid into a shot glass and setting it in front of himself.
Herald will take the seat offered by Jabaxa. "A drink? Sure. I'll take a shot." he says amiably. He waits till the rest of his group are settled before talking any more. "I'm Herald Navus. I take it that makes you Jabaxa? I'm glad we could meet."
Cree follows Herald into Mama Fats, unable to control his awe as he stares at Jabaxa's scars and eye. He flexes his own cybernetic arm, staring down at it, almost wistfully.
"That's...I'd love a drink. Did you put that eye in yourself? It's gorgeous, Jabaxa. Like, damn. I'm a little jealous. Can I ask what happened?"
Valorus looks around at the environment At least it'll be easy to find where these guys are he thought to himself. Herald seemed to be able to take point on most of the diplomacy,
Jabaxa offered the group a drink. After some consideration, he made his decision. {"No, thank you"} he said to the bar tender, pairing his arm movement in a declining gesture.
"Thanks, a water will suffice." Krevlor inclines his head and gestures towards himself with his lower left hand while gesturing toward Jabaxa with his upper left hand. "As your- representatives have not doubt informed you we have a common interest in the form of Duravor Kreel. We were present at the altercation, and I believe you will understand we acted in self defense. We would very much like to get to know your group's side of the events that transpired."
Darshe's expression is passive as he follows Herald, more than content to the let the smooth-talking lashunta take the lead. Playing his part as the group's muscle, it was a struggle to hide how green he really was. Still, he can't help but to slightly raise a brow when he first sees Jabaxa.
"Yeah, a drink would be great," he says simply, hoping that the "water" would calm his nerves down a bit.
The ysoki nods and leans forward to fill four of the shot glasses with the clear liquid from the unmarked bottle. Jabaxa slides the vessels forward and waves a hand over them with a slight flourish before pouring another shot into his glass and lifting it. "Bottoms up, gents," he says before lifting his head back and tipping the contents of his glass into his mouth in one go, giving a sharp satisfied breath and putting the glass down onto the table.
Jabaxa turns to Cree and gives the other ysoki's cybernetic arm an appraising glance. "No, not installed this myself - one of the best back-alley doctors UPB's can buy put this baby in for me. Well worth it, if you don't mind this being your anaesthetic as well." he says, motioning to the now half-full bottle of moonshine. "As for how I ended up needing it in the first place - let's just put it down to getting a bit too curious about the ghost levels deeper down in the spike. Might tell you about it some other time, once our 'business' is squared away - which I'm guessing is why you all were asking some pretty pointy questions here. So, what is your business here precisely, other than being a tad on the nosey side?" Jabaxa quirks an eyebrow towards the ceiling and offers a crooked smirk.
"We are aware of your- arrangement with the Hardscrabble Collective who are closely affiliated with Duravor Kreel... so it seems unlikely your associates injured him intentionally. That leaves an accident or- the Downside Kings."
"I'd like that story very much, Jabaxa. We'll revisit that later. As far as our recent nosiness, Duravor Kreel is dead, and we didn't think you had anything to do with it, but we thought you might know who did."
Darshe's faces scrunches up slightly when he downs the strong drink, but he quickly shakes off the strange (if not completely unwelcome) sensation.
"Seems like someone tried to pull one over on your gang. A bit too much of a coincidence, otherwise."
Valorus carefully readied his wording before talking {"We want justice for our comrade, and we need your help to get it."}
Herald leans forward. "You were hired by the Hardscrabble collective to protect their interests, right? From who? Downside kings had to have been hire ons too, but for the competition. We just need to find out who hired them, and why they hit us." he says. "We want to prove our suspicions; that this wasn't just an accident."
"So please, tell us about the conflict the collective is in. And rival gangs... where is their headquarters? Who's in charge? We want to have words with them. possibly very angry words that sound surprisingly like explosions and gunfire."
Jabaxa nods and begins to pour himself another shot of the moonshine. "Well, it's like this - the Collective hired us to protect their people and interests here on the station, given the not-so-little scuffle they've found themselves in with Astral Extractions over their ship and its pet rock. Unfortunately, looks like they may have been right to fear reprisals, given one of their people is dead - but that's just what I've been hearing on the grapevine. No solid proof of it outside of words, especially if they're hiring proxies like the Downside Kings to do their dirty work for them."
The ysoki tilts his head back and tips the shot of moonshine into his mouth in one gulp again. "As for why they might want your dwarf friend dead, who knows," he says, giving a shrug. "It might be to do with his being a member of the Collective, or might have something to do with his very anti-corporation stances as well."
He leans forward and gives the group in front of him a wry grin. "From the sounds of things though, you all are itching for a bit of payback, or justice, or whatever you'd like to call it, and I think I can help you with that. Even though I've not been there before, I've heard that the Kings use an all-day club in the lower reaches of the Spike as a front for their not-so-savoury activities - a place called the Fusion Queen, down on level 48 and deep within their territory. Their current leader is a woman by the name of Ferani Nadaz, who is a particularly bloodthirsty individual by all accounts. But you don't become the leader of a gang like the Downside Kings without having a taste for violence and a willingness to use it."
Herald nods. "Thank you. I think that's where we need to go to demand our satisfaction, whether fueled by payback or not." he says. "All right guys, I think that's what we need."
As they're on the way out, he gives Adine a wink.
As the group are leaving the back room of the bodega, Jabaxa nods and gives a faux salute. "Best of luck in your diplomacy, gents, and give my regards to Ferani. I will instruct my people to give you as wide a berth as you need."
The outside street is still as crowded as ever, as people weave amongst one another while they go about their daily business.
Having emerged from Mama Fats surprisingly intact, Darshe sighs and shakes his head, running a hand through his shaggy dark hair.
"Unbelievable. I got out of the Diaspora so I could get away from this sort of mess. But my first job for the Starfinders puts me back knee-deep in it," he complains, before concluding, "The gods must be laughing at me."
"But that's enough b@*$#ing on my part. Sounds like it's down to Level 48, yeah? Maybe this Ferani will be as hospitable as Jabaxa was."
Darshe was not counting on it.
"We should keep our eyes peeled for their welcoming party. They might be expecting reprisals and recognize us. We have a course of action. A bit of snooping around might turn up some actual evidence."
Herald considers his apparel. "Well, if we're going to a nightclub, do we want to go in armed and armored?" he asked. "It would basically be announcing our intentions. Just to let you know; I'm all for it." he say, checking the charge on his laser rifle.
"{well, my armor is underarmor so they might not spot it anyways...but I have a couple of spells up my sleeve, if I need to defend myself}". He looks at the group, "{But I am fine with what you decide. We are a team after all.}"
"My pistol should be easily concealed beneath my robes. I can leave my battle staff behind. From what I can see people seem to wear armor about the station quite openly. I would assume as most patterns function as power this serves to protect the wearer in case of a breach."
As they discuss whether or not to enter the club armed and armoured, the group leave Mama Fatt's through the twisted alley-streets of Level 21 and make their way back eventually to the public service lift that can take them deeper within the Spike. They descend several floors before having to use a set of stairs before another elevator, but eventually, the group reaches level 48.
The atmosphere to this level is a stark contrast to that on Level 21. Where the home of Jabaxa's gang was crowded but communal, level 48 has slightly more spacious streets and alleys and a boxy industrial vibe, and the people here seem to keep to themselves. Many of the light globes are a mixture of bright neon and ultra-violet, brightening the area and its inhabitants in hues of electric blue and glowing purple. Steam pipes overhead and vents underfoot release their pressure, filling the air with a perpetual haze of vapour and giving the area an almost dream-like quality.
Following one of the leading thoroughfares, the five prospective Starfinders can see a rotating neon sign poking out from the middle of a squat, one-storey building cluster. The logo depicts a thin tiara-like crown encircling a cocktail glass and has the words 'Fusion Queen' lit underneath it in a curved script, all done in blue neon. The sides of the club sit flush against its neighbours' walls, and no alleyways are adjoining the venue. A pair of broad-chested bouncers in similar stationwear to what the gang members on the docking bay were wearing stand outside of the front door to the club, patting people down before either allowing them to enter or rejecting their entry into the Fusion Queen.
On the opposite side of the street to the club sits a dark cafe with small tables on a raised patio in front of it.
"Well, there's the place. We going to have those loud words with them or are we going to try to chat like civilized people?" Herald asks. "I'm not inclined towards going in without my rifle. This thing's expensive."
"The heraldry of the graffiti is consistent with the Downside Kings in this area so I do not believe we have been misinformed that this is their territory." He taps the thumb of his upper right hand against his jaw. "I am not inclined to walk into a hub of their operations defenseless. Talking to them may prove... challenging. I doubt we can talk them into allowing your rifle in Herald."
Valorus looks at the area around him. It looks about the same as any other area. "{Are...we sure this is the right place? I'm not calling the guy a liar, but...well it looks almost exactly like the part of the station we just left. I mean yeah it's spacier and all that, but...how do I put this? It still has that unwelcome feeling, you know?}"
Darshe shrugs. "Worse comes to worst, we could always go in guns blazing." A second passes before he feels the need to clarify. "Uh, that was a joke. Still, we'd best go in with our armor at the very least."
As the group stand up the street from the club, a group of four patrons exit the club - they appear to be young, trendy types with several piercings, tattoos, brands, and other body modifications. Every so often, people who are apparently more touristy attempt to make their way into the club, many of whom are hostilely rebuffed by the terse bouncers. Those who make it through the doors either appear to be incredibly convincing or else make a donation to the bouncers' credit chits.
The bouncers seem to be quite vigilant in their duties of patting people down, though they pay particularly more attention to those who don't appear to be regular clientele, and it would seem they are looking for weapons. Every time the bouncers find a weapon, its owner is handed a slip of paper and allowed inside. A plastic tag wound onto the item, and the bouncer deposits it into a small drawer near to the door.
Right now, the line to get into the club is only a few people long, and the bouncers seem okay with taking their time admitting people into the venue.
Herald shakes his head. "Nah. I don't like this. If we're going to go in there and they know us, we're going to get into a fight. I don't want everyone stuck without protection of some sort."
He looks back over the group. "Anyone got a problem with walking up and demanding to speak to their boss? It's dumb but I don't see any other option that gives us the benefit of self-defensing them to death if they reply with hostility."
"Given their violent history I would rather not walk into a trap. I am dubious as to whether or not a diplomatic approach will aid us much but it will be our best shot."
{"What should we do then? Just sneak in a back entrance?"} Actually that might not be a bad idea. He looked to see if there were any alternative entrances that might not be as well guarded.
Valorus looks around, but does not see any alleyways adjacent to the club - the streets here are wider than they were on Level 21, but the buildings are much closer together. The club's facade has windows spaced at intervals, allowing a lurid purple and cyan glow to brighten the otherwise dimly lit street outside, but these seem to be bolted into place and are in full view of the bouncers.
The shirren also notices a delivery cart slowly being dragged up the main thoroughfare towards them, laden with crates and boxes.
"I do not know the specification of the ventilation system, would they be large enough for us to provide a means of entry into the building... I suspect that would have challenges even if it were possible."
"Approaching to talk with them might be our best option. If they turn violent we should be prepared to defend ourselves."
{"There is a delivery cart coming this way, it looks like it's headed to the club,"} Valorus tells his allies, though he doesn't point, not to give any attention. {"I'm not saying we sneak in using that, but it is an option."}
"It's an option, but I somehow doubt that we can all fit on that thing. Even if we could, we certainly wouldn't go unnoticed," Darshe says, scratching his head sheepishly. "Krevlor might be right. We still don't know for certain whether the Kings took out Duravor on purpose. Maybe we should just be diplomatic and have Herald smooth-talk our way in."
As the group continue to discuss, the cart and its handler come into view in the darkened streets. The short and stockily built nuar walks ponderously down the thoroughfare as others who walk towards the vehicle wordlessly let them pass. As Darshe suspects, the cart is not large enough for people to hide in laden with crates of alcohol as it is.
The nuar passes the group without stopping, making his way toward the Fusion Queen. Once in front of the club, the nuar stands patiently until addressed by one of the bouncers, a computer tablet in hand. The shortest of the two bouncers nods curtly at the horned creature, taking the electronic device from him and gazing at it. The ganger nods and goes to motion for the other bouncer to start hauling stock into the club while the line to get into the venue is empty.