Young Writers Society

"All...save a few." He spoke those words with a bit more care. "All of those who the murderer could get his hands on, that is." His eyes were fixed on Tarkin's, but his staff was ready.

(I know I had him carry a saber before but electrostaffs can be used against both sabers and blasters so I'll just have that as his main weapon)

(Awesome)

Tarkin eyed him, brow furrowed. That explained some things, if this fellow was Force-sensitive. "Why don't you bring a tree down on me now, if you can use the Force?" he pointed out.

"Because I'm curious now." He leaned forward, his boot heel digging harder into the man's chest, who still was terrified and didn't make a sound. "What do you want this rat for? What value does he have to the Rebellion, or should I say, against the count?"
He'd only found out about his prisoner's involvements with the Empire by chance. His original reason was that his quarry had wronged the local spice lords in a massive trade that resulted in millions of credits lost. He had been hired specifically for the job and hadn't just picked it up from a posting somewhere.

"That's classified." Tarkin's finger hovered over the trigger. "He's Imperial; isn't that reason enough?"

"Not reason enough to rob me of my credibility, payment, and a little revenge." The sharp point of his staff hovered closer to his downed prey. If Tarkin wanted to succeed, he'd have to change his tactics. Vague reasons weren't enough to convince him. The Empire wouldn't be much more than a thorn in his side if it wasn't for the one leading it.


(wonder if Grievous is still alive or if he got yeeted)

(Probably still alive)

Tarkin sighed. "Fine, then. Who is paying you? How much?"

"Classified." He grinned, mocking Tarkin's words from a moment ago. "It's not just the money, I could lose my head as well. Does this coward have any information against the count that may motivate me to turn him over to his enemies?"

"Certainly. But again, it's classified." Tarkin paused. "The Rebellion will double whatever your employers offered you if you give him to me alive."

Sirejj thought about that. His payment was hefty. While his pride wanted him to disagree, who's side was he truly on? Just because he had a personal vendetta against Dooku didn't mean he was any friends of fools and former Jedi. But he hated one side considerably more. "I'm still not convinced you can deliver, seventy thousand doubled is a painful amount for your little ragtag group of freedom fighters."


(also yeah if Grievous is still hanging around Sirejj is even more mad because it was him and Dooku that attacked Dathomir and committed mass genocide against his people)

(Ahh excellent)

"I can speak with my superiors now," Tarkin offered. Palpatine still had funds to drain; might be able to cover the cost. He'd find out soon.

Something didn't sit right with this deal. There were a hundred and one ways it could go South and land him in a jail somewhere or dead in a river. Neither of those were comfortable options. However money spoke, and doubled that bounty would be enough to pay back what he'd been given in advance, which would hopefully keep the spice lords off his tail. He thought about it for a moment. "Speak. I'm losing my patience."

Tarkin kept the rifle leveled at Sirejj and punched in a code on his comm, murmuring into it. There was a quiet response, then he spoke again. He and the speaker on the committee went back and forth for a few moments, then he sighed and shut it off. "One hundred thousand is the offer," he said.

He scoffed. "What happened to your "double"? That would hardly be worth this trouble." That was less than one and a half times his original payment.

"That's the offer I was instructed to bring it down to," Tarkin said grimly. He'd lost him; Palpatine wasn't spending that much for this target. "Either you take it or I find another lylek to help me kill you."

He didn't like being cornered. "I think...if we do come to an agreement, you'll have to deliver me my payment before you lay a hand on him."