<strong>Location:</strong>Underworld 66<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Vialiah, Col. Husk, Darion, Sasha<br/><hr/><br/><em>Take it to Mister</em>blared out over the recessed speakers creating an audio rush to compliment the<em>spice's</em>icy jolt.  Solomon Jericho leaned on the balcony rails and watched the light rigs swirl like mad fire hoses, bouncing their multi-coloured beams off the walls, and drenching the seething masses of humanity below in swathes of rainbow heaven as they swayed and pulsed to the thrusting and gyrating moves of the the faux stormtrooper on the the stage.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i1206.photobucket.com/albums/bb457/Parlyguy/Elliquiy%20-%20Star%20Wars/images.jpg)</div>The<em>spice's</em>cold confidence made Solomon feel spectacular, like a newly crowned king looking down upon his subjects.  The sceptres of his office a gold trimmed black credstick with fat balance of over a million credits clipped to the pocket of his Houndstooth suit, and a three karat chunk of flawless diamond ice on a meaty pinky finger.  The dark skinned human snorted the acrid mucus from his nose and lemon faced as he tasted it. He took a deep slug of the golden amber fluid from the tumbler in his hand to compensate, and savoured the burn as its hot traces lit up his throat and lungs.<br/><br/>Moving off the rail Solomon sauntered across the purple carpet of the Underworld Club towards the neon of the bar.  A sycophantic smile from the barkeep and another drink on the house; a perk of the protection his patronage provided the owner.  Solomon drew out a Toydarian Split and lit it up with a silver flashstick. Scanning the club as he smoked he caught the eye of a head-turning honeypot being hit upon by some flash looking wage-slave type.<em>I’m gonna have me some of that... </em>he said to himself, breaking a grin across his handsome coffee coloured chops as he prowled over.<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i1206.photobucket.com/albums/bb457/Parlyguy/Elliquiy%20-%20Star%20Wars/imagesCA7L126K.jpg)</div><br/>“Bail skinny stud or I’ll show you the shortcut to the dance floor, clear?”<br/><br/>Solomon shrugged his doorway sized shoulders and fixed a prison planet stare on the rabbit faced punk, who quickly disappeared into the background of the upper lounges' VIP bodies.  Looking down gave Solomon a clear view down her top, the swell of her breasts instantly causing his cock to harden, her pink skin only made her more enticing.  Then he saw the ruby hanging between her tits and knew she was the contact.  Knowing that her soft pink lips probably wouldn't be stroking his cock, Solomon drained his glass and took a seat opposite the Zeltronian.<br/><br/>“So I hear your games got a different name, you can shake things up, move stuff around, and straighten people out.  I've been talking with Darga and he's got a job for you and your crew.  The deal is 10k on completion of a babysitting job"<br/><br/>Solomon's cold confidence began to be gnawed at the edges by a rat type paranoia, created by the chica's calm, almost mocking look. The rat scratched and scurried across the periphery of his thoughts.  Solomon wracked his brain trying to work the angles, find the funk in it all.  Darga had stacks of dough, and a veritable army of henchmen ready to whack their mothers if it meant a fix of<em>spice</em>.  He couldn't figure why Darga had pushed 2k his way to hire this crew.  Solomon's head buzzed through a fog of<em>spice</em>and booze, he was used to breaking legs, not figuring this crime lord crap out.<br/><br/>What Solomon did know, was that Darga was his connection to the big time, his gravy train, so he knew he had to get this right or he be back to juggling a fistful of<em>deathsticks</em>, or worse be spaced into the black.  Despite her calm demeanor, Solomon picked up subtle clues, it only took one look to either side to see her companions scattered about the room...imposing human, probably ex-military on the left...green-skinned near-human with facial tattoos at the end of the bar...dark-skinned girl trying to look innocuous while studying him...the jovial Devaronian two tables over...<br/><br/>Solomon looked the pink-skinned Zeltronian dead in the eye and said with a flat air of finality, "Your game has got to be tight, your moves right cos if you're wrong the payoff is a blaster shot to the head. So you in?"