for drunk_ish

[baals]

It wasn't easy to establish himself in an entirely different galaxy. He spent years simply learning of the worlds, factions, languages and cultures. It was dull work but important if he was to be successful. This galaxy was already at war when he found himself marooned here. War breeds opportunity.

Near the war's end, he took his opportunity. He started out in the distant planets, furthest from the New Republic's reach. The planet he chose to make his home still had some Empire holdouts clinging desperately to power. They were quickly dealt with with an added bonus of gaining the praise and trust of this little world. In turn, he urged them to govern themselves but he would gladly solve disputes and offer advice. On the surface, his new little world ran itself. Under the surface he controlled everything else. Call it the cleanest criminal empire.

He receded from view, becoming more of a story. It's oh so easy to construct a Godly persona after all. He began posing as he own right hand man. 'Ba'al' was rarely seen and often cloaked. Meanwhile, Mister Haddad saw to running things.

Today, Mister Haddad is over-seeing the running of one of the higher class bars. He's there because of reports of a rival crime faction attempting to horn in. Sending their men in to cause disturbances and damage.

He mingles with the patrons, subtly keeping watch. Keeping an air of important but not too important about himself.

If they try something today, he's ready to sent a message.

Comments

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir regrets his life choices.

Most recently, his choice to join the New Republic.

He's all over the place, now. Hunting down Imperial war criminals, attempting to help the fledgling Republic stabilize itself, identify the major threats, find ways to resolve them. It sounds shady, but here's the thing: it's not supposed to be. Everyone's so bloody moral. It's all about doing the right thing.

It leaves Sinjir adrift sometimes.

Right now, he's on his own. Observing, really; gathering information about the rumored Ba'al, who was quickly shaping up to be a major power broker in this sector. Another criminal faction is challenging Ba'al.

And Sinjir is here to get drunk and listen. He sips at something green-colored that the bartender gave him, looks disgusting, smells bizarre, tastes not bad at all. This is when he spots another patron in the bar, a man well-dressed in rich fabric, and he feels a shock of recognition. Hadad, he thinks. Ba'al's right-hand man.

He could be subtle, and make sure that Hadad doesn't notice him. But, he instinctively decides to take a different tactic, and let his eyes linger obviously on the man, long enough to be noticed. He could play it off as flirtation or sexual interest if pressed. He plays his drink between his fingers, considering his next move.

This is when the door explodes, and several masked figures carrying blasters burst into the room.

[baals]

Sinjir doesn't immediately catch his attention. Of the varying shades of character in the place, he registers low on the threat scale.

What makes him interesting is the look. Regulars tend to avoid looking at him for too long. Those seeking a deal or protection come to him directly. He wants something else, Ba'al thinks. Regardless, he appears faintly amused if not receptive. Smallest hint of a smile then--

Some idiots have come to ruin his day. His expression changes to something dark before switching to annoyance.

He adjusts his gloves, one of which conceals his Kara-kesh, to raise his personal shield. "Drop your weapons and leave now. Violent disruption of this establishment will endanger your lives," he says as if it's a formality.

[drunk_ish]

And, as if this is the cue, chaos erupts.

Sinjir's initial decision is just not to get involved. He's not carrying an energy weapon (it can be unhealthy to have a blaster on you, out here) and he would rather, all things considered, avoid having to kill-or-be-killed this evening. He drops under the bar, kicking a table down for a bit of an extra shield on his other side. There's quite a bit of blaster fire exchanged, a few screams, people rushing out the door, one minor fire (put out by a glass of ale, which, as not many people know, doesn't have enough alcohol in it to sustain a conflagration) and...

Hadad.

Whom Sinjir watches quite particularly.

Until two of the gunmen try to creep past Sinjir in order to get the drop on Hadad's back. This is practically a gift-wrapped invitation to someone like Sinjir: look! Here! You can get in Hadad's good graces!

He moves out from his hiding place. First, a snap kick to one's belly; then he grabs the blaster of the second. Breaks that man's wrist, while bringing his knee up to get the nose of the man who's doubled over from the stomach impact. Dissecting the second man's clumsy defenses is trivial, and ends with him whimpering on the ground with a broken kneecap. Sinjir brings the blaster up to aim at the first, and he kicks over a chair in his haste to flee the scene, his nose streaming with blood.

All right. That wasn't so bad.

[baals]

Most of the fighting is done by security, whom also turn out to be some of the place's entertainers. It seems 'Hadad' brought knives to a blaster fight. He lets others do most of the fighting but should someone get a little to close they find a knife in a vital organ.

Commotion behind him and-- well, isn't that interesting. Someone is far more capable than a drunk has any right to be. Internally, surprise turns to delight - this is an opportunity.

Then some idiot decides to smash a chair across Sinjir's head.

Terribly anti-climatic but at least it will give him an excuse to move Sinjir to the back office without arousing undue attention. He has him placed on a couch then ensures they're alone and locked in.

A quick use of the hand held healing device should mean he'll awaken within a few minutes.

"You have my attention," he says, at the first signs Sinjir is awakening. He's leaning against the desk like this is a casual meeting between old friends.

[drunk_ish]

When Sinjir wakes up, he is not: 1) dead, 2) nauseated, or 3) in a lot of agonizing pain. He is also 4) not anywhere familiar, something that he registers first through smell (electronics, dust, polish, metal), and then through slow blinking.

He is also 5) sobered up. Or at least the fuzz of the alcohol has significantly subsided. Adrenaline wouldn't do that, so either he's been unconscious for a while, or something odd's happened. He doesn't feel like he's been unconscious for a while. And if he were, then the concussion would have to be severe, or he'd have to feel the aftereffects of some kind of drug. He feels neither.

This doesn't make any sense.

He reaches a hand up to his head. No blood, nothing, but he remembers an explosion of pain and stars before unconsciousness.

"Does your attention extend to questions?" asks Sinjir. "For example, like 'what just happened', or 'how am I not concussed'?" Sinjir's accent is precise and crisp: Imperial, really, even though there aren't so much Imperials around anymore. It sounds like he comes from a Core world, sophisticated.

[baals]

"A chair was broken over your head. It was quite impressive, it was shattered beyond repair." answered with an amused look on his face. Ba'al's voice on the other hand, has an odd accent. Comparable to Imperial but not quite.

"As your head would have been had I not intervened," he adds. A not so subtle way to say his debt is already paid. "You are here for a purpose, shall I assume it's on behalf of a shattered empire, rebels turned rulers or one of the oh so many gangs in this sector? I suppose it hardly matters. You're either a scout or you seek a deal."

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir's about to sardonically ask the chair or my head when Ba'al cuts off what would have been a perfectly good annoying witticism. He shuts his mouth again, a little peeved in spite of himself that he didn't get to say it out loud.

"Can't be both?" he asks. "Scouting for a deal?"

He sits up, slow, enough that Hadad can know he's not going for a weapon. Actually, speaking of... he uses his movement to try and test, see how many of his subtle weapons Hadad might have found. He does have a few knives and a couple of poisoned needles, lockpicks, multitools, etcetera secreted around his person, but he's not stupid enough to go patting himself down looking for them.

"Also," he says, "does it really not matter to your boss? Which, I mean."

[baals]

"I suppose it can," he says with a shrug. It's trivial at this point. He cares slightly. Sinjir is interesting enough to win his time.

He pushes off the desk with another shrug at the question. He drifts behind the desk to look at a pad there. "What matters to him is your usefulness. It hardly matters to him or myself, whom you may represent. Anyone can be a threat under the right circumstances."

As for concealed weapons, most were removed aside from a couple. They could have been missed but they're the most obvious compared to the ones removed.

[drunk_ish]

"Ooh," says Sinjir, abandoning subtlety as he shifts his body around, checks at the small of his back, in his boot. "Quite a zealous frisk. Did you do it yourself? Make sure you got a good chance to check out all the assets?" with his eyebrows risen.

He settles back, crossing a leg, to all appearances quite comfortable.

"Now, let's rewind a bit," he says, falling into a rhythm. "I'm sure you'd like me to think that healing my injuries sets the scales even. But, given that I acquired those injuries sticking my neck out for you -- which I absolutely did not have to do -- I think you and I both know that's not quite fair, is it?" A smirk. "You just wanted to make it seem like I was coming to you for a favor. You wanted the power in this room. Don't be greedy; you've already got most of my weapons and tools, and lots of armed guards. You can cede a little social power, mm?"

[baals]

"If you're asking if viewed your genitals and was over-come with lust at their beauty?" he asks in a disinterested deadpan before looking back at Sinjir. "I did consider taking your clothes as well."

At Sinjir's words, he gives him an amused look like he's watching some captive animal attempting to chew through its bars.

He sits and folds his arms over the desk. "Well then, if you want nothing: Leave. Your belongings will be returned on your way out." His expression darkens into something unreadable as he adds, "Oh, and of course, I ask that you never return, unless you fancy a night of unending pain as I pry every last shed of information out of your mind."

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir actually laughs at this. Oh, he believes it; he's just glad to be on familiar territory. He finds the threat delightful.

"Let's talk about what your boss wants," he says. "Let's talk about your boss's territory. Large, but not enough to withstand a widescale attack by an organized military force. You're vulnerable to the Empire and the New Republic, unless they remain in balance with one another. Focused elsewhere, as it were." He tilts his head. "Meanwhile, both the Empire and the New Republic are uncomfortable, because if you did decide to mobilize a military force of your own, they would both be vulnerable along their flanks. You could change the balance of power. And playing the game is the only way you stay sovereign."

[baals]

"You are correct so far, as depressing as that is to admit." Even if he does have a few dozen plans in the works to change that. They're a long way off and no certainty.

"What remains of the so called Empire is the more... unpredictable of the two. More likely to cause us trouble and attempt to take what forces we have. Perhaps they would even be foolish enough to use us to attack the New Republic." All said to see if there is any flicker of Imperial loyalty hidden under Sinjir's skin. It's an obvious jab but how he reacts is more important than what he says.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir's eyes glitter, but not in reaction to Ba'al's words. In reaction to the way Ba'al watches him. It's like he's been playing sabaac with children, and suddenly he's in holochess with a master. Matching wits is giving him a thrill he did not expect.

"They both have benefits and drawbacks." He meets Ba'al's eyes. "The Empire is in a struggle for power, but if there is a winner -- if -- then it will provide stability and organization. In addition, Imperial officials are ordinarily bastards of some kind or another, and susceptible to bribes. Just look at Jabba's long relationship with the Empire."

He wonders, suddenly, if he's actually talking to an underling. Something about the sharpness of Ba'al's gaze...

"The New Republic, on the other hand," he continues, "embraces democracy, which is instability as a way of life. They'll have much more trouble policing their borders. But they do have pesky feelings on morality, don't they?" A shrug. "But I think you know one of the two is more likely to keep their word than the other."

The Empire betrays as soon as it's pragmatic. It's simply the way it works.

"So I suppose it depends which you fear more," he says, intentionally phrasing it so that it might provoke. "Becoming another's servant... or being exposed to the galaxy's idea of justice."

[baals]

Very interesting. None of the reactions he expected which makes this all the more dangerous. And raises his opinion of Sinjir.

"Morality and instability can be a benefit," he comments. Knowing the morals of others is endlessly useful.

Then a smirk creeps across his face. The wording seems designed to catch or provoke him. He toys with the phrasing in his mind then decides on his answer. He leans forward, locking eye contact. "Ba'al is no servant. Are you?"

[drunk_ish]

He spreads his hands, a wide shrug. "Always," he says. Apparently he just can't stop giving his loyalty and allegiance to institutions. It's really starting to be a problem. "Efficient. Loyal." The word has a slight ironic emphasis; a loyalty officer, a defector, a traitor. But there's something true in the core of his heart, some sliver of morality that wasn't drained and sliced out of him, that guides him now. He is trying.

He's fairly confident, now. It would be like this political maneuverer, to hide in plain sight.

"And so you, Ba'al -- I'm sorry, should I keep calling you Hadad?" An innocent tone to his voice. "And so you know your inevitable choice. So do I." The New Republic -- it's the one to back. Sinjir knows this, from a pragmatic standpoint. The Empire simply does not have its shit together.

[baals]

Sinjir's answer actually puts him more at ease. Someone who freely embraces servitude, in his experience, are more reliable.

Ba'al positively beams at being correctly identified. He started to suspect he knew, it's almost a relief. "You are fortunate I like you," he says. "Call me what you like. They are both my name."

"Would I be correct to assume you're a former Imperial Officer whom now works for the New Republic or is that what you hope I will believe?" Just a small concession at the end, that he thinks Sinjir is capable of fooling him.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir finds he's rather keen on being praised, himself. Feels good to play this kind of game on behalf of something he doesn't hate.

He just smiles. "I'm authorized to propose mutual non-aggression," he says. "The New Republic's sole condition is that the worlds that you claim have some way of choosing, publicly, whether they join the Republic or not."

This was Sinjir's idea -- this condition. Several people strenuously argued against fracturing the Republic, or some other such nonsense. Others made noises about conspiring with criminals.

"So here's hoping you don't rig the decision-making process," he continues. "I wonder -- will you let pride win out, and give it an honest go? Do you want the people there to choose you?"

[baals]

He appears to consider it, as if the decision has weight. It does, just not in the obvious way. He would allow these worlds to honestly choose and he would be fine with them choosing the New Republic. It merely changes his role slightly. Earth has already shown him he'll does well in 'free worlds' and gaining power in different ways. What really brings weight to it is Sinjir himself. He's not sure what he wants to do about that.

"I accept," he says finally. He stands up and looks directly at Sinjir. "I prefer to be truly wanted in all things." he smirks and adds, "If I didn't, I would have taken your clothes along with all your weapons."

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir blinks.

"Just like that?" he asks. "Don't want me to jump through hoops? Provide guarantees? Connect you to a holoconference with Princess Organa?"

Because there are more things he could do. Mostly, those things are practically irrelevant and don't mean anything, but he could do them.

"Though," he admits, additionally, "taking my clothes wouldn't have necessarily meant I didn't want -- things."

Things. Unspecific things.

[baals]

"Provided your story checks out and I am presented with a written agreement. The only guarantees I require is that I may retain some property and resources. Nothing too extreme. It would be nice to have somewhere to live should all my worlds choose the New Republic." He waves a hand, almost dismissively.

"Things." Ba'al echos back in amusement. "Then lets not be coy. I would be delighted to hold you down and send you to the very edge of pain and pleasure until you beg. Perhaps even after you start begging. You would look lovely shivering with need. It's something I can make last hours with ease. One must be truly willing. It's not a quick fuck over a desk."

[drunk_ish]

Everything in Sinjir goes boiling hot in an instant. And that's while he's expecting it. Imagine if Ba'al had sprung this on him cold -- he probably would have combusted. Oh, he is in so much trouble.

He swallows. Takes a couple tries to clear his throat. "Am I prostituting myself for the New Republic?" he asks. "Not that I'm categorically opposed to that set of circumstances, but I would appreciate the clarity."

Sinjir didn't often do submission, as a general rule. And when he did, it was usually to fulfill someone else's desires -- like a particular officer who really wanted someone younger-looking to spank over his knee. Sinjir actually got a little into that. Focus, he admonishes himself. -- The simple fact was that a loyalty officer could not trust themselves to be helpless with anyone. It was too dangerous.

Paranoia runs deep, but he's not in that role anymore. He's a free agent. And this sounds shockingly appealing.

[baals]

Ba'al is perhaps a little too satisfied with that reaction. "It certainly wouldn't hurt matters. As you already have my agreement, consider it more of an optional bonus."

[drunk_ish]

Okay, this is good. This is fine. He's going to uncross his legs because his cock is starting to feel a little uncomfortable. He leans forward.

"Ground rules," he says. "I'm not your pet, or your child, or your droid, so please no explicit invocation of that. No infliction of any damage that would require a bacta tank -- or a bacta tank's equivalent," because he realizes abruptly that there are other ways to heal damage in this galaxy, and that gives an obvious and terrible loophole, "to repair, individually or on the aggregate. If you're tying me up for more than ten minutes at a stretch, I need an easy way out of it, and definitely no gagging or blindfolding while I don't have an easy way out."

He is direct and firm about this. Panic is the emotion least conducive to good sex.

"Safe word is bacta," he says. "Invocation of the safe word at any given time will not have consequences against the New Republic." -- just to assuage a little of his guilty conscience. He doesn't want to be the reason this fails. "And I don't really like messing about with feet. Never got the appeal." A beat. "And no women," he adds. "Nothing against them. Just not even a little interested."

[baals]

Ba'al almost wants to ask if Sinjir was ever referred to as a droid, since he bought it up. He'll content himself with picturing some Imperial Officer calling him a sex-droid and immediately regretting it. In fact, he can't help but think of the situations that led Sinjir to discover his preferences.

They're very Goa'uld like conditions. Almost comforting, in their own way.

"Of course, I ask the same, should I decide to end things prematurely. And I will end things the moment I sense even the slightest threat on my life or other such unfavorable conditions. Second, I expect honesty should I ask after your condition. Do not tell me what you believe I wish to hear."

"Ah, and know that anything I do to you, I've experienced myself. I know how it should feel, hence the importance of honesty."

All his important points made, he clasps his hands behind his back. "We may start whenever you desire. You may also inspect and choose any location within this building - barring public spaces. Take whatever time you need." The room they are currently in connects to a hallway and a series of private rooms. Used as apartment and work-spaces for Ba'al and a few trusted underlings. There is a concealed room, that houses Ba'al's Goa'uld tech and other artifacts. It is something Sinjir could locate the door to but not open. On the off chance he does find it, Ba'al has already decided he would open it if Sinjir asks. He is the slightest bit curious to see his reaction.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir holds up a hand. "One more thing." And he doesn't really want to talk about this, but it's relevant, and potentially necessary. His responses change because of it. "I wasn't just an Imperial officer. I was an Imperial loyalty officer. Do you know what that means?"