Mag was disappointed.
After the rigmarole of getting docked on Depatar, getting a disguise together, getting the right permits, and then actually finding the auction house, the auction itself was a bit of a let-down. Sure, the stone-faced buyers were no surprise – even the ones she could actually see the faces of, painted though they were as part of elaborate disguises. The lots were a mix of rare and illicit, only a few really making her turn her head and wonder how they had gotten there. There weren’t any living lots, thank the gods. At least, none that came up on the stage clapped in irons and looking like they wanted the floor to swallow them whole.
Technically, it all had the makings of being exactly what she’d come to Depatar expecting. It was all just… strangely soulless. There were bidding wars for exciting lots, of course, but everyone behaved themselves. The auction house itself was brightly lit and kept clean, the walls and furniture the same bland colour schemes typically found in office buildings. Even the auctioneer sounded bored and jaded as he rattled off descriptions of illegal and fantastical items, and bids high enough that Mag didn’t think she’d ever earn them in five lifetimes.
Then Lot 665 was hauled on stage and everything else fell away. Behind her mask – a simple thing that trailed brightly coloured stars across her eyes and over one cheek, it and the rest of her clothes leftover from a fancy dress party two years back – her brown eyes widened, while her stomach twisted itself into knots. This was what she had come for.
It was a big honkin’ thing. A great, looming slab of faintly metallic grey. The figure in the middle looked like they had been trying to strike a pose, but the grimace frozen on their face stole away any bravado they’d been going for. As she stared up at him, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to laugh at his last-minute humour or sob at the state he was in.
The moment the word Jedi was uttered from the auctioneer’s lips, the first genuine reaction from the crowd sent murmurs fluttering around the room. Heart in her throat, pulse pounding in her ears, Mag ignored them.
Then the bidding started. There was interest from all over, the amount ticking up higher and higher. Then someone mused, a little louder than was appropriate, that there was bound to be trouble for whoever took a frozen slab of Jedi home with them. The bids slowed after that, several parties dropping out as common sense reigned, and Mag decided it had been worth paying for the decoy.
When all was said and done, she had still spent enough to make her dizzy and sick just to think about. She’d had to call in every favour, take out every loan any bank would give her, and sell the ship when she’d arrived, and the closing bid had taken all that and wiped out any contingency and personal savings she’d been holding onto. She’d just have to hope her old friend came through.
At least she’d rented the two-bed hotel room beforehand. It was small and box-like, and verging on crowded even before her prize was delivered unceremoniously into the middle of it.
Perched on the foot of one bed, her mask shed and a cigarra held between two fingers, she stared up at the great, carbonite… thing… she’d spent more money on than she could ever hope to pay back. She had blankets and towels laid out, and a change of clothes that would’ve fit the man when she’d last seen him, but that had been years ago and who knew if it still would now. There was a bottle of water, and a pack of cigarras, and random odds and ends of food and over-the-counter medicine, because what was she really meant to expect here? So she’d prepared for every outcome.
Now all she had to do was pop the box open and see what came out.
Breathing a heavy sigh, she took a final drag of smoke and stubbed her cigarra out in a heavy glass ashtray before she hauled herself up to her feet. Her fingers pushed through her shortish, dark brown hair before her hands went swinging bonelessly at her sides. Anything to put this off just a few more seconds.
Finally, a small scowl of thought pursing her lips, she worked her old friend’s prison open and stepped back to watch the aftermath.
After the rigmarole of getting docked on Depatar, getting a disguise together, getting the right permits, and then actually finding the auction house, the auction itself was a bit of a let-down. Sure, the stone-faced buyers were no surprise – even the ones she could actually see the faces of, painted though they were as part of elaborate disguises. The lots were a mix of rare and illicit, only a few really making her turn her head and wonder how they had gotten there. There weren’t any living lots, thank the gods. At least, none that came up on the stage clapped in irons and looking like they wanted the floor to swallow them whole.
Technically, it all had the makings of being exactly what she’d come to Depatar expecting. It was all just… strangely soulless. There were bidding wars for exciting lots, of course, but everyone behaved themselves. The auction house itself was brightly lit and kept clean, the walls and furniture the same bland colour schemes typically found in office buildings. Even the auctioneer sounded bored and jaded as he rattled off descriptions of illegal and fantastical items, and bids high enough that Mag didn’t think she’d ever earn them in five lifetimes.
Then Lot 665 was hauled on stage and everything else fell away. Behind her mask – a simple thing that trailed brightly coloured stars across her eyes and over one cheek, it and the rest of her clothes leftover from a fancy dress party two years back – her brown eyes widened, while her stomach twisted itself into knots. This was what she had come for.
It was a big honkin’ thing. A great, looming slab of faintly metallic grey. The figure in the middle looked like they had been trying to strike a pose, but the grimace frozen on their face stole away any bravado they’d been going for. As she stared up at him, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to laugh at his last-minute humour or sob at the state he was in.
The moment the word Jedi was uttered from the auctioneer’s lips, the first genuine reaction from the crowd sent murmurs fluttering around the room. Heart in her throat, pulse pounding in her ears, Mag ignored them.
Then the bidding started. There was interest from all over, the amount ticking up higher and higher. Then someone mused, a little louder than was appropriate, that there was bound to be trouble for whoever took a frozen slab of Jedi home with them. The bids slowed after that, several parties dropping out as common sense reigned, and Mag decided it had been worth paying for the decoy.
When all was said and done, she had still spent enough to make her dizzy and sick just to think about. She’d had to call in every favour, take out every loan any bank would give her, and sell the ship when she’d arrived, and the closing bid had taken all that and wiped out any contingency and personal savings she’d been holding onto. She’d just have to hope her old friend came through.
At least she’d rented the two-bed hotel room beforehand. It was small and box-like, and verging on crowded even before her prize was delivered unceremoniously into the middle of it.
Perched on the foot of one bed, her mask shed and a cigarra held between two fingers, she stared up at the great, carbonite… thing… she’d spent more money on than she could ever hope to pay back. She had blankets and towels laid out, and a change of clothes that would’ve fit the man when she’d last seen him, but that had been years ago and who knew if it still would now. There was a bottle of water, and a pack of cigarras, and random odds and ends of food and over-the-counter medicine, because what was she really meant to expect here? So she’d prepared for every outcome.
Now all she had to do was pop the box open and see what came out.
Breathing a heavy sigh, she took a final drag of smoke and stubbed her cigarra out in a heavy glass ashtray before she hauled herself up to her feet. Her fingers pushed through her shortish, dark brown hair before her hands went swinging bonelessly at her sides. Anything to put this off just a few more seconds.
Finally, a small scowl of thought pursing her lips, she worked her old friend’s prison open and stepped back to watch the aftermath.
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