[center][color=gold][b]Mardji’s Cantina, the Bitter End[/b][/color][/center]

Muffled voices a few metres away shook Zejinn from his trance. He lazily tossed the data slate he had been glaring at onto the table in front of him, bored of looking over accounts and ledgers. Zejinn had been working in a dingy cantina booth for over an hour, determined to get through the dull number work before his client meetings later in the evening. Mardji’s was not Zejinn’s favourite spot in the End. Far from it, in fact, but it had been nearby after his visit to the port earlier, and it was important for him to get some work done.

His companions had exceeded their limits rather quickly; two twi’lek girls were opposite, one asleep with her head in the other’s lap, and an aqualish man with an impressive gut was sat upright passed out to his left. A smattering of empty glasses and aromatic dishes dotted the battered table, a range of noodle dishes and skewered meats. Zejinn did not have an appetite, currently; they had been for his guests, but it seemed they had opted for lunch of a more liquid nature. 

The voices had come from his right, where two enormous weequay guards were blocking entry to Zejinn’s booth. He kept a light security detail as more of a status symbol than anything else; in truth, almost every merc, smuggler or miscellaneous scumbag that may have been a threat was already on Zejinn’s payroll, and they were smart enough to know not to bite the hand that pays them. Over the general din and chatter of the cantina, their voices were barely audible, but they had stopped someone who was attempting to gain access to Zejinn.

He leant forward over the table to look at the one who sought him. He was tall, scrawny, with floppy dark hair and nervous brown eyes. A patchy, scraggly beard clung to his jaw, and he looked to be in his mid-twenties, even though Zejinn knew him to be older. One hand was in his pocket, and the other was raised with the palm open in a disarming manner, and Zejinn noticed he was trembling ever so slightly.

“Darac Shor.” Zejinn smiled warmly. “Let him pass.” The guard on the left grunted, and like two enormous muscly saloon doors, they stepped inwards, creating an opening for Darac to enter the booth. Zejinn gestured for the man to sit opposite him, much to the annoyance of the dozing twi’lek girl who had to move her legs to accommodate him. The yellowish lighting from the strip light above the booth gave Darac’s pale complexion a sickly hue. “It’s good to see you, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Darac exhaled anxiously. “I’m just gonna out and say it. I lost my shipment.” Zejinn did not let his smile drop, simply continuing to eye the nervous man opposite him. “I’m really, really sorry Zejinn, I am. I got pirated, there were at least a dozen of them all armed, two ships. I was on my own, I had no choice.”

“You had a choice.” Zejinn was still smiling. “You let these pirates take my guns, without even lifting a finger in protest from the sound of it.”

“Come on, Zejinn, there were a dozen blasters on me! I’m a runner, not a merc! Maybe if you sent some protection with me things would have turned out differently!”

Zejinn’s smile faded into a grimace. “So, you’re saying it’s my fault that you lost your shipment and failed your job?”

“No… no, Zejinn, no, c’mon, no! That isn’t what I meant!” He had realised his mistake, and his blatant fear was evident. Zejinn snapped his fingers.

In an instant, Darac was out of the booth, on his knees on the cantina floor and with his arms held firmly in place by Zejinn’s two guards. The falleen man stood slowly and purposefully, well aware that much of the cantina had turned its attention towards the scuffle. One of the twi’lek girls had let out a shrill scream, but even still the bulky aqualish man had failed to wake. He approached the kneeling man, who started babbling profusely, but Zejinn cut him off with a sharp gesture. 

“I do not take kindly to failure, Darac. Even more so, I do not care for insults. You knew the risks when you took this contract, and your own failures are exactly that; your own. Do not presume to tell me how to operate, and do not come to me, laying blame for your failures in my lap.” His voice was unsettlingly calm.

Zejinn knelt down and gripped Darac under his chin, digging his claws into the soft flesh of his face and wrenching his head upwards to look him in the eye. He gripped his face tightly, so much so that warm red trickles had begun to run down his face. “Thanks to you, not only do I have an unhappy client who’s short of a shipment. I also now have a band of at least a dozen pirates threatening my shipping lanes and rather inconveniently armed to the teeth with E-5 blaster rifles. Can you see why I’m unhappy with you, Darac?” Zejinn’s smile was completely gone now, replaced with a completely blank expression that was just as menacing.

“I like you Darac, and that works in your favour. Our relationship until now has been blissfully simple. I give you a job, you do that job, and we both make money. That is my favourite type of partnership. If you did not have such a long history of success, do you know what I would do?” Zejinn drew a blade in his other hand. “I would take one of these from you right now in this cantina,” he gestured to both of the man’s restrained hands, “and tell you that you can have it back when my guns are returned to me. But I’m not going to do that.”

Zejinn released Darac’s face and stood up, looming over him. “Your loyalty has earned you a reward, and this is it. Your life. Do not make me regret my choice, and do not mistake my mercy for weakness.” 

“Th- thank you, Zejinn, I promise I’ll-“ Darac was cut short by Zejinn’s boot hammering into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The man wheezed, unable to clutch at the pain thanks to Zejinn’s weequay guards. 

“You will not fail me again, Darac. If you do, I will personally dismantle you like a droid while you are still alive and sell your parts on the black market. Human organs fetch a high price these days, so do try not to give me any extra incentive.” Darac nodded, his eyes wide with fear. Zejinn kicked him again, hard, and then knelt back down to look him in the eye. “You will not fail me. Am I understood?” Darac nodded again, even more vehemently.

Zejinn sprung back to his feet, his wide grin returned. He clapped joyfully. “Excellent! Then we can put all this gloom behind us and talk business.” The guards released Darac, who pushed himself to his feet slowly, clutching his ribs. A few of them, Zejinn suspected, were broken. Zejinn ushered Darac back into the seat opposite him. “Someone fetch us something to drink!” A twi’lek server wasted no time in producing a large bottle of a bitter-scented liqueur.

“Now, Darac my boy. We can’t let your transgressions go completely unpunished.”

“Call breaking my ribs unpunished?” The smuggler practically spat the words. Zejinn let out a deep belly laugh.

“Compared to cutting off your hand or taking out an eye? I’d say so, yes.” Zejinn pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured two shots of the liqueur, sliding one gently across the table towards Darac. The falleen raised his glass and then threw it back down his throat, with Darac following suit shortly after. Zejinn poured two more.

“You’ve left me in a financially difficult situation, Darac. Naturally, I cannot pay you for a job not finished. Furthermore, now I need to assemble a group to hunt down and dispatch these pirates. Now that they are armed with military-grade blasters, that’s gonna come with a premium fee.” Zejinn and Darac knocked back another, feeling the bitter warmth through their throat and chest. He poured two more. 

“So, we need to find a way to compensate for my losses. I will not be asking you to hunt down pirates, that would be a complete waste of a good runner. Instead, the next job you do for me will be totally free, as a token of your sincere goodwill and to show me how truly, truly sorry you are for your errors.” Darac grimaced. Smuggling was a dangerous job and doing it for free was not an appealing prospect. Yet he did not protest; he had pushed his luck far enough for a lifetime already. 

“After that, I’ll be reducing your pay for the next four jobs by a thousand. With the four thousand raised from your noble donations, I will be able to hire mercenaries good enough to take out these pirates. After those five jobs, our relationship will resume as normal. I think that is a more than fair offer, given the circumstances.” Darac did not dare protest. Zejinn let the silence linger for a moment.

“Then we are in agreement!” Zejinn raised his glass and prompted Darac to do the same. “To business,” Zejinn said with a wide smile, clanging his glass off of Darac’s and emptying it down his throat one more. He grabbed the bottle and poured again.