Chapter Text
The bar was… not exactly the nicest place to grab a drink. It was shady at best and was clearly decorated by someone who didn’t understand the concept of ‘clashing colours’ but it was dimly lit and had a clientele whose mentality sat firmly along the lines of ‘not my problem’ regarding some of the less-than-legal goings on. That, combined with its location on coruscant and the fact that the bar’s owner was a reliable messenger for some very, very rich people, made it the perfect place for somebody like Techno to get as drunk as his metabolism would allow.
You see, Techno is not a person that could be considered ‘inconspicuous’ by any stretch of the imagination. He was tall (as were most male togrutas) and that was only exacerbated by his montrals, making him loom over most humanoids at seven and a half feet. Both his skin and montral markings were a pink that drew the eye even when around arguably more colourful aliens. However, what caught most peoples attention upon meeting Techno was the two ‘sabre handles resting on his belt and the large armour plates curling around his torso. This was why he appreciated the bar’s unspoken consideration: it was a ‘no questions asked’ kind of place.
Unfortunately for Techno, the bartender, and the patrons – the Sith are the type who like to ask questions, and the fuckers wouldn’t leave him alone.
The door slid open, its noise covered by Techno’s sigh, and an irritatingly familiar presence stepped in, the force singing with his arrival. Darth Artifex was blond, short and humanoid, with green eyes and a disarmingly charming smile - both of which distracted people from the fact he was currently the third most wanted person in the republic. He was a talented swordsman, a brilliant wordsmith and a pain in Techno’s pink ass. He also seemed to have placed a tracker somewhere on Techno’s person as this was the fifth time they had ‘run into each other’ in as many days.
He sat down beside Techno, having pulled a chair over from another table and ignoring the fact that Techno must have sat alone intentionally.
“Hello there,” He began, “Are you busy?”
“Would you leave if I said yes?” He just laughed. Techno downed his drink in one go, hoping it would make the situation more tolerable. He doubted it would.
“I have a contract.”
“What kind?” Techno was never going to say no to a contract – that’s a bad business strategy, regardless of his personal dislikes towards certain… Sith. But making himself difficult to employ was fair game.
“I need a bodyguard.” Techno raised an eyebrow, “Mostly for appearances sake,” Darth Artifex clarified, “But it’s always nice to have your back watched.”
“I have a policy: you pay double if there’s another force user involved.” The Sith didn’t look impressed.
“But I’m a force user.”
“Yes,” Techno spoke slowly, “You are.”
“This is unfair.” Darth Artifex almost pouted, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s the rule. It’s more unfair for me to change it, just because you’re feeling put out.” Techno smiled, shining his sharp teeth in a barely passive act of aggression.
“Okay, fine.” The other didn’t back down.
“How long will we be?”
“About three days travel either side, four days on location.” Techno wasn’t going to back down, the Sith were not exactly poor.
“I charge 1,000 credits per day. So for you, Sith, that’s 20,000 credits. Up front.” His smile grew.
“That’s a bit expensive.” Darth Artifex sat up straight, “And up front? I’m beginning to get the feeling you don’t want me to hire you.”
“Now why would you get that impression?” Techno gestured for another drink and the bartender (a young humanoid, probably the owners daughter) rolled her eyes but complied, “I’m an expensive man, and it’s upfront because I don’t trust anyone who walks the ‘path of betrayal’ to actually pay me.”
The Sith hesitated.
“Fine, I’ll pay you when we meet tomorrow. Sunrise, on docking bay 17-R.”
“Good enough for me.” The bartender set Techno’s drink on the table. He motioned for her to make another.
“Goodbye.”
“Good riddance.” Techno was going to need as much alcohol as his liver could process, possibly more.
_-_-_-_-
In retrospect, arriving at the docking bay was probably one of the worst decisions in Techno’s life (which is really something) but he wouldn’t realise this for a while. He should have rejected the offer and gone back to his mission of reaching record blood alcohol levels. Instead, the Sith paid in full, Techno stored the credits in his “business account” and then they were away.
Darth Artifex’s ship, or at least the one he used when not committing genocide, was a modern, stylish vessel, designed to house multiple people on long voyages. More importantly for Techno, it had state of the art shield technology, an expensive hyperdrive and almost too many guns.
The interior seemed to be built for about eight people to stay comfortably, with separate sleeping quarters for each and a communal living space separated from the cockpit. Really, it was designed for large travelling groups and it was fucking weird for one Sith to have it all to himself. Whenever questioned about it, he had just laughed and said it would be “useful later”. Techno was starting to think he was mildly delusional.
It was comfortable enough for the first two days of the journey, while the both of them stayed in their own spaces and did their own things. Then, only a handful of hours before they were set to arrive, Darth Artifex decided they needed a game plan.
“I can’t tell you everything, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Techno echoed.
“But you need to be by my side and keep an eye out for anyone… suspicious.”
“Suspicious as in assassin or suspicious as in they think you have good fashion sense.”
“You’ll know when we get there.”
“And where is ‘there’ exactly?” Darth Artifex had neglected to share most of the information that Techno would normally consider vital. On one hand, this might lead to the Sith getting killed, on the other, it might be a trap. Techno was prepared for either eventuality.
Darth Artifex stalled for a moment, glancing at his navigation system.
“Las Nevadas.” The force rippled at this news, like laughter.
“Las Nevadas? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were going to Las Nevadas?”
“If I had told you, you wouldn’t have taken the job.”
“Exactly.” From a level headed perspective, it made sense: The Gilded Planet (also known as ‘Las Nevadas’ - a planet sized casino with enough dirty goings on to make a Sith blush) was one of the only places that bodyguards were a genuine necessity; it was the kind of place were hired guns like Techno thrived, and to show up completely alone was a sure fire way to die completely alone. From Techno’s perspective, it only emphasised how insane Darth Artifex must be. “You want to take me, a known assassin who specialises in killing rich snobs, to the capital of rich snobs, as your body guard.”
“…yes.”
“Why?”
“I think it’ll be funny to see Quackity’s face when he realises he wont be able to arrest me this time.” Which was annoyingly sound logic. The only person Quackity was known to avoid was ‘The Blade’, taking him along on a gambling spree was as much a ‘fuck you’ as one could manage without loosing any organs. It didn’t make Techno feel any happier though.
“I am meant to keep you safe. How am I to do that when you’ve practically painted a target on both our backs?”
“With a great deal of skill, I suppose.” This asshol-
“If we survive this, I am never taking a job from you again.”
“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” It was about to be that bad.
_-_-_-_-
They arrived to little fanfare on the surface of the casino and immediately headed downwards. Techno wore a cloak to hide his distinctive montrals and his ‘sabres in an effort to prolong their lives. Darth Artifex (who had, as the boarding ramp descended, insisted to be called Phil while inside the casino) wore a green bucket hat.
Las Nevadas had earned its name as ‘The Gilded Planet’ for a reason: each winding corridor that formed its web of halls was lined with golden accents and gems; and each of the individual rooms, all full of gamblers, was illuminated by crystal chandeliers. The surface of the city was opulent and showy, which was why they wouldn’t be spending long there. Instead, they walked down more paths, past security guards and ID locked rooms to Las Nevadas’ bleeding, beating heart.
Quackity was a peculiar man, but he knew the only way to stay rich was to keep other rich people in your pocket – so, in the casino’s early days, he had created an ‘invite only’ club with enough security to comfort even the paranoid elites that frequented it. After a failed execution and an… ordeal with some mining equipment, Quackity had sworn Techno would never see the centre of the casino.
Techno didn’t think he had really missed out on that much.
Yes, it looked nice and it was possibly the safest place in the known universe, but it was full of the same assholes that Techno spent his life killing in dark alleyways. They were blinded by the glitz and glamour, only to wrack up debts they couldn’t pay and get their names added to Techno’s list. A good business strategy – a bad place to spend your free time.
However, there didn’t seem to be anything going on besides the usual bad life decisions. It was busy, but there was no real reason for Darth Artifex to be there. Well… unless he needed to talk to Quackity himself.
The man was sat, flirting with (or being flirted at by) a force user. His face looked the same as last time Techno had seen him, and the gaping wound on his cheek displayed his gold teeth wonderfully, but it was the force user (users, there was two of them) sat beside him that caught Techno’s eye.
They were wearing expensive clothes in an attempt to hide the danger and training that lingered in their posture - though Techno couldn’t vouch for the efficacy of their disguises, since he had clocked them with such ease. Maybe a civilian or an inexperienced guard would be fooled, but anyone who knew what they were doing would be able to recognise a Jedi with their eyes closed. This group included Techno and, unfortunately, Darth Artifex.
Quackity looked up, meeting Techno’s eye with a scowl as the Sith began to wave to the jedi.
Wait.
Darth Artifex, third on the Jedi’s most wanted list, began to wave at (what Techno assumed was) a Jedi Knight and his Padawan, very much looking like he expected them to be there. This was his plan. This was why they were here. He wanted to scream as the Jedi finally looked over and saw them. The Jedi Knight, a trained warrior, stood and began to run towards them, hand reaching for his lightsabre.
Techno was not being paid enough for this.