Tarnak Somir, head of the recently formed Somir Crime Family, had sent a few of his men to Coruscant months before he made his actually break away from his father's empire. He had been given a significant amount of capital and a large resource base to start off his operations, as long as he kicked back to his father now and again a percentage of what he made.

A percentage, like his father was ever going to know the actual amounts.

Tarnak had secured for himself lavish accommodations and ample room from which to operate his main business structure. However, he would need little more than that as his business would merely be collecting from other businesses that he had a 'piece' in. So far he had acquired a stake in a local night club, a few factories, and one of the Imperial Center Corporate Buildings.

Not bad for a few weeks work.

For now, he would secure his holdings. Get a strong foothold before trying to expand any further. He needed to get his name out there. Let people know he was not someone to be @#%$ with. They would know that after the first few tried.

-----------------------------------

Torada Night Club - Coruscant

Tarnak walked in slowly, as usual he had a lit cigar in his left hand. He slowly strolled in as if he owned the place, which, in a sense, he did. Taking a few puffs of his cigar, he looked around the busy establishment. A few of his men followed, dressed in street clothing so as not to attract attention to themselves.

Tarnak walked through the club, taking his time to reach the management offices located in the rear. Once he did finally reach the locked doors, he rang the bell.

Orania Rodda, the clubs 'official' owner, answered and smiled widely, though his nerves could be seen by a blind man. Tarnak took a puff of his cigar and exhaled.

"Well, going to invite me in, Rodda?"

"Ye.. yes, of course. Come in, Mr. Somir."

Tarnak began to grin and walked forward, the two men with him followed close behind. Rodda closed the door behind them.

"To what do we owe the honor of your visit, Mr. Somir?" he asked, as if he didn't already know.

"Tell me, Rodda, do I look @#%$ stupid to you? Did I not more than double your clientele, do I not insure these low-lifes pay their gambling debts to you?

.. and now, when it comes time to pay me I receive less than half of what we agreed upon?"

Tarnak picked up a data-pad from the desk, looking it over.

Rodda replied, stuttering. "Mr. Somir, you must understand that that kind of.."

His sentence was interrupted by Tarnak slamming the data-pad into his nose. The man double over, his nose both broken and gushing blood. Tarnak's knee rose and met the man in the mouth, Rodda double backwards and fell to the floor.

Somir took another puff from his cigar then looked down, noticing blood on his pants.

"You @#%$ bleed on me?"

He began to repeatedly kick the man in the ribs, the sound of bones crunching filling the office.

"You allow your @#%$ blood to stain my clothing? You piece of @#%$. You little piece of @#%$. Get up so I can hit you again."

The kicks continued, followed by a dura-steel toed boot to the side of Rodda's face.

Finally, the assault ceased, Tarnak looked down on the man and spit.

"Don't @#%$ with me, ever again. Your next payment will be double what we agreed, and the one after that. You @#%$ me again and I will come back. Next time bacta and time will not fix what I will do to you you piece of @#%$."

Tarnak spat once more then turned to the door, after wiping his boot on the bleeding man's robe.

"Let's go boys."

Streets of Coruscant

----------------------

The trip back to the office had been almost completely uneventful. One could almost classify it as boring. However, just before reaching the office things got a bit more interesting.

A clicking noise, easily identifiable as a blaster pistol, followed by the feeling of cold metal on the back of Tarnak's skull. Slowly, he raised his cigar to his mouth and took a puff.

"Unwise." was all that Tarnak said, after exhaling, before the man's world went dark from a blow to the back of the head by one of Tarnak's men who had been following some distance behind.

Somir knew full well if he tried to muscle people around here, some of them might try to get him out of the way, especially at first. So, he took precautions.

Turning around, Tarnak looked down on the sprawled out body of his assailant.

"Pick him up. I want to talk to him, upstairs."

----------------------

Newly renamed 'Somir Plaza' building: Penthouse - Coruscant


Slowly the would-be assassin awoke to find blood rushing to his head. Opening his eyes he took in the -- gravity -- of the situation. He was hanging by a dura-steel cable from the penthouse balcony.

Tarnak Somir stood on the balcony with a cigar in one hand, and a cutting torch in the other.

"Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?"

The man began to scream frantically.

Tarnak lit the torch.

"Quite down, you'll wake my neighbors. That would.. upset me."

The man went dead silent, a very wise choice.

Tarnak moved closer to the cable, taking a puff off his cigar.

"Who sent you?"

The man said nothing for a moment, until Tarnak raised the torch towards the cable.

"Who @#%$ sent you?"

"All right, all right.. Bordosa the Hutt sent me to kill you."

Tarnak's eyes narrowed a moment then he smiled.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it? And very painless."

Tarnak turned towards the balcony doors, allowing one of his men to step out. Tossing him the torch, he walked inside. His voice carried out onto the balcony.

"Cut him down."

Tarnak's assistant, as he was referred to, moved to the cable, taking a grip on it. He began to cut.

The would-be assassin begin to thank the men for sparing his life, but his thanks came a little early. As the torch cut through the dura-steel cable, the man plummeted towards the planet. So many stories to fall, all that would likely remain was a greasy stain on some deep lower level of Coruscant's underbelly.

No one would care.

----------------------

Tarnak's Office - Somir Plaza Building

"So, Bordosa the Hutt is sending me a @#%$ message is he? Well, boys.. let's send him one in return. I want that fat slug molded in dura-steel by the end of the week."

The only response he received, the same he always received.

"Of course, Mr. Somir."

"So, tell me. Do we have an understanding?" His voice calm and cool he pressed the barrel of the out moded slugthrower to the other mans forhead.

"Y-yes..." This voice was broken and full of fear. It trembled and quaked, you could tell the speaker could hardly sit still... and he was probably going to piss himself with fear.

Clean cut and neatly groomed, the man with the gun, Brahle as he will later be known, values neatness and style. Dressed in high fashion, all in black, he sported a long jacket, dark shades and tight nek hide gloves.

Brahle was the picture of composure and calm, in contrast to the prisoner bound to a chair in nothing but undergarments stained with the cold sweat of fear. He stood with a cigarra in his teeth and slugthrower pressed to the head of the broken man in a run down back corridor suite, the sounds of Coruscant barely seeping through.

"You're sure now? I wouldn't want to have to drag you from your bed in the dead of night back to this disgusting hovel jusr to find myself repeating this for you." To add emphasis he pressed the barrel a little harder into his prisoners skull. A prisoner who couldn't nod and mumble the affirmative too soon.

"Excellent. Well, it has been a joy, Chief of Security Boone, but I must be off." With a grin Brahle removed the weapon from his prisoners head and tucked the slugthrower under his jacket. "And look, you still have two lovely children and a wife to come home to. I think three children taxed you too deeply."

Footsteps signaled Brahle moving back towards the rooms exit, passing by way of three other live hostages bound nude to the world... and one dead.

Clicking his tongue at the horrible mess that had been the Chiefs' youngest child, "And young Brandon will have served as an excellent example of what happens when things go awry."

Moving off to the side, Bhrale bent to cut the bindings holding the badly beaten wife. As he did the woman fell slump on the floor, hardly the strength to sit up. Then he knelt aside the woman and pressed the blade into her hand, "When you feel able, cut your family free and call a medic, but do be... subtle. Your husband understands subtle... Oh, and tend your children, I'd hate for any of those marrs to become perminant."

Standing again to survey the scene, he chuckled, "Expect your payoff on a bi-monthly basis. It will be more then enough to componsate your medical costs."
Then, he was gone.

The underbelly of crime. A lost empty haven for the desitute and sosciopathic. Here, you'll find the very dregs of the galaxy. Pittiful and hopeless they fall through the cracks and slats until they end up here... on the bottom. Disgusting wretches, every one.

The dull thud of a being tossed against a brick walll, a gutteral groan and the sound of spitting blood. Then the voice of a cold hard killer, "That's enough... let 'em breathe"

With that, the mericless pummeling stops. No longer being smacked around, the pittiful shape crumples up on the ground in an almost fetal position.

A figure steps out of the shadows, just on the edge of light. He moves around the perimeter of light past the two giant juggernauts which had been beating the crumpled man only moments earlier. The dull glow of a cigarra lights on Brahles face, showing a shadowed grin. "You have two days to get off planet. Take your thugs and grunts with you. The Somir Syndicate is moving in."

The shape moves into the light only long enough to render the other man unconcious with a swift kick to his chin... and the spray of blood.

Turning to the two figures in his escort, "Take him home, pack his things and stick him on the next shuttle out. Anyone causes a problem, kill 'em."

The giants nod and move towards the limp shape. Barely noticed, Brahle slips back into the shadow.

Meschi Somir stood in a darkened corridor beneath the streets of Coruscant. These halls were used by the privileged few who had access to them. Usually important political figures, or major crime leaders.

A hovering slab rounded the corner, escorted by several armed guards. In the darkness, Meschi stood. His weapons had already been charged and readied. He was waiting.

As they neared, suddenly blaster fire riddled the area. In a matter of seconds, the guards lay dead and only a floating slug and a dark figured remained.

Meschi took a step into the light.

"Bordosa, you have angered the boss. Now, you must pay the price of that anger."

Meschi flipped up onto the hovering slab of metal which held the Hutt Crime Lord. The heavy repeating blaster in his right hand held out towards the slug's head.

"Goodbye, Bordosa."

Blaster fire once more light the hall, the sound of squishing and splattering following those of the blaster itself. Moments later, Meschi walked past the splattered corpse of the former Crime Lord. Payback was a @#%$, and Meschi was the payback.

I guess that made him a @#%$?

Meschi chuckled at the thought and wondered if anyone, even Tarnak, would ever dare to call him such.

Once more, he vanished into the darkness.

Meschi, known as the Enforcer, moved up in the lift that would take him to the penthouse suite once inhabited by Bordosa the Hutt. Upon finally reaching the level desired, he stepped out slowly.

He made his way through the hall and stopped at the suite's door.

Wood.

Meschi shook his head and chuckled at the stupidity of some people. An iron clad boot rose and the door gave way to the powerful force of the blow placed upon it. Meschi moved instantly in through the debris.

Twin heavy repeating blasters, one in each hand, came to bare upon the occupants of the room who scrambled for their own weapons. The guards dropped first, their bodies so riddled with blaster fire before they hit the ground they looked like a gusher field.

Quickly afterwards the other room occupants, who had been either attempting to flee or retrieve their weapons, began to be engulfed by a rain of fire. The repeating blasters showered crimson bolts of hard light energy in almost every direction. Blood, bodies, and outright carnage filled the room at a steady pace.

Meschi walked through the room, ensuring that each of the people within were downed. One by one he loosed a single crimson bolt through each skull, to insure they would never be able to get up again.

On to the next room, surprise was no longer at his side. As he kicked the door open, blaster fire rained down upon him. Knowing already this would be the case, he ducked around the wall and waited for the right moment.

It came.

Holding both weapons in one hand, for a moment, he tossed a smoke grenade into the room. Soon it filled to the point that nothing could be seen but the white cloud. That is, unless, you were wearing heat sensing goggles, which Meschi now was. Entering, he moved silently. Walking up to each person, a single bolt through the head and their bodies fell limp.

One by one they dropped to the floor in a bloodied heap. One by one they payed dearly for their bosses attempt to deny Tarnak Somir what was rightfully his.

After a complete sweep of the suite, to make sure all were dead, Meschi went back into the hall. Retrieving the jugs of fuel he had placed there, he went back inside and began to douse the place with flammable liquids. A few minutes later it was done, and the fumes were fantastically strong.

As he walked out of the front door, or where it used to be, once more.. he lit his lighter and tossed it behind him. Entering the lift, he pressed for the ground floor. No emotion, no pleasure.. just a job done.

"I don't have time for no foolin' around Mr. Jakobson."

The man before him stood hunched over, confusion over the whole situation evident on his face. Rocco was impassive, a brute of a man, his reputation for violence in the name of the Somirs was widespread. Not that Tarnak Somir called himself a Somir by his fathers definition, but in Roccos position he was considered as much.

"We've had a truce, you and I. Whats going on? Bordosa and Somir have held out from a war for years, what gives now."

Rocco shrugged, looking around impassively.

"Mr. Somir has formed his own family, away from his father. I came with, and new orders are coming down."

His hand fingered his jacket slowly, tracing the invisable outlines on his vest.

"Now your Dens our mine now. Bordosa is gone, and you either give it up or you join your boss."

The man sneered, turning away.

"Tarnak doesn't have the balls to take on Bordosa..."

The meaty fist slammed into the back of the mans head with the force of a sledgehammer, sending the man cluttering to the floor. His voice was loud and furious.

"Don't you dare turn your back on me you little punk!"

He dropped to his knees as he reached the prone man, his hands gripping his hair as he pulled the head back, his mouth moving towards Jakobsons ear.

"Mr Somir will be disappointed to hear that you turned down his offer."

As he spoke he slammed down the mans head, a sickening crunch repeating again and again until it became just a wet slap of battered flesh on concrete. He let the head sag, then fall, Rocco rising from the body. With a brutish shrug he pulled out his commlink.

"Jakobsons gambling dens in the Spaceport district are ours, lets move our players in there."

He turned and strolled back out of the alley to a waiting speeder, the bull of a man flopping onto the plush seat quickly. The driver, another big man, took off immediately towards the Caporegimes apartment.

"Al, let Mr. Somir know that the dockyards are ours 100%. Men of my regime are enroute now. And ask him if we are going to go to the mattresses..."

Dancing Draigon Men's Club - Coruscant

So many women, so little time.

In the lower levels of Coruscant, it was easy to find a 'lady' companion regardless of who you were. So long as the creds were good and were kept coming, you could have a Twi'Lekian female of any colour you wanted, or the purest of virgins. Whatever your hearts desired. Eyes were greeted to the loveliest sites as soon as they came in off the street. Dancing on tables and stages throughout the club were woman of various shapes, sizes, and species.

It seemed, as Dovi entered and moved toward his regular booth, that the most popular flavour this night was a human female. Skin as white at cream, long dark hair blacker than the deepest space, eyes - oh those eyes! - that could pierce a man's heart. Dovi's gaze never left that of the young morsel, watching her every motion as she danced.

" Dovi, my friend! It's good to see you again. How's business?"

Dovi managed to turn away from the hypnotic sight of the girl and offered a half smile to the proprietor of the Dancing Draigon. " Not too good, Sal Those @#%$ Somir's are trying to push into my territory, but they don't know who they're @#%$ dealing with. Hey, Who's the new talent?"

Sal chuckled and slid into the booth across from Dovi. " You like what you see?"

Dovi turned back to the girl. " I want what I see."

" Why didn't you just say so?" Sal gave a look to one of the bouncers who immediately moved to the men drooling over the dancer. He pushed them aside, offering his hand to her and lifting her down from the stage. " She just came in this morning," Sal said as the scantily clad girl was escorted to their booth. " A gift from a friend, said she was very good at what she does."

Dovi looked up at the girl - the goddess - that now stood before him. His eyes moved up and down her body, admiring every curve. " What's your name?"

A seductive smile filled her deep crimson lips as she place both hands on the table and leaned in closer to Dovi. " What do you want it to be?"

Sal laughed loudly and slapped the girl on the ass as he got up from the table. " Why don't you take him upstairs, and you can discuss this more privately."

The dancing girl took a step back from the table. Her fingers trailed across Dovi's cheek and she started for a set of stairs next to one of the side stages. Dovi got out of the booth and followed a few paces behind her. He knew his way very well.

Each girl had their own room, one set up to their specific style of Play. This one's room was fairly simple, possibly because it was her first night, a bed and small table both covered in blood red material. The door closed behind Dovi and he came up behind her, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her against him. His lips nuzzled at her skin where she shoulder met her neck, growling hungrily.

She pulled away, her face stark and emotionless. " From what I understand, you are a regular here Mr. Dovi, and should know the rules. When at Play, the girls call the shots." She took a robe that hung off the post of the bed and slipped into it, covering up her mostly naked form..

Dovi's eyes darkened at the sudden development. " What's going on"

" We're going to play." She turned to face him and smiled. " More importantly, I'm going to play."

Tess' hand came up suddenly from within the folds of her robe. It took him a second to register the weapon she held in her hand but less than that for her to squeeze the trigger. The bolt tore into his shin, impacting itself into his bone. He screamed out and grabbed at the leg as he collapsed to the floor.

" You've been a bad, bad man, Mr. Dovi." She said and slowly walked over him. She knelt next to him, staring down at the blood that began to soak the man's pants. " It seems you've gone and upset some very powerful people."

" You @#%$!" He spit in her face.

Frowning, Tess wiped the moisture off her cheek. " Now that was uncalled for." She pressed the nozzle of the blaster into his abdomen and fired. He screamed out again as it burned through his flesh and scorched the floor beneath him. " You were instructed to leave Coruscant, Mr. Dovi, all of your kind were. Do you think you were an exception to that order?"

He lay gasping on the floor, a fleck of blood staining his lips, and then another, and another. Tess stood up again and looked down at him. " When Mr. Somir suggests you leave, you leave. When Mr. Somir wants you dead..." The blaster pointed down at his forehead between Dovi's eyes. " ... You die."

The door to the room opened just as the bolt cut through Dovi's skull, killing him instantly. Sal looked to the corpse on the floor then up to the woman that held the smoking blaster. He never took his eyes off her as he stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind him.

" The Family appreciates your co-operation in this matter, Sal." Tess said. She levelled the weapon at him and shot him once in the kneecap. He fell to the floor next to the corpse, whimpering and clutching at his leg. " That's for @#%$ touching me. Now clean yourself up, and get rid of this mess as you've been paid to. I don't want to be coming back to this @#%$ hole, understand me?"

Sal nodded as she walked past him and out the door. " Yes Ma'am."