The Wretched Thoughts of Scum and Villainy: Markus Vienmann

[Tally]

:: Ord Mantell a week and a half ago::
To some, the sight of a mangled body, broken down in a bathtub and being treated with chemical solvents might have been considered something to run very far away from.
For Markus Vienmann however, there was unfortunately very little say in the matter, for Markus Vienmann this was the career he’d chosen, and now he was taking it in warts and all.
Squinting through his mask against the truly impossible, gut-twisting odor, he hunkered down and set about breaking down the awful mess with his plunger, attempting to break down anything suspiciously solid with the force and hopefully…not have to see anything that looked too much like a face, plopping up to the surface.

His thoughts were garbled, he’d hoped it was simply horror and shock at having to do this and not something wrong with his mask that was causing it to let in chemical fumes, but he didn’t have the luxury of checking, they had to work fast.
It hadn’t been the first time he’d been privy to the process, though it’s the first time he’d ever had to do it himself. The other’s he’d only had to serve as a lookout while Breccka or Sloan had been able to do the deed, keeping an eye out for anyone that might look like they’d come this way and gently distracting them while the cleaner tried to clean a little faster.

Currently, that position was being filled by a co-worker of him by the name of Solveri Sumiri.

“Oh Goddess above…he was just a kid…and the boss just…his head.”

Currently, she seemed to be reacting about as well as he had the first time, bouncing between paranoid window glancing, to horrified stares at the mess in the bathtub, to babbling and blubbering incoherently.
It was an understandable reaction, and a part of him considered if he should just let her have her breakdown and get it over with. The other part of him that was very VERY worried about Ord Mantell security coming across them, however, squashed that idea immediately.

“Yes…he was a kid, now he’s soup, and unless you want us both to go in the soup pot with him, you’ll stop staring and keep watch.”
That, at the very least, seemed to shake her from her babbling and horror directly into an…arguably healthier state of bubbling anger.
“Screw you! This is your fault!”
“I missed the part where I unscrewed his head like a sparklepaste cap.”
“If you’d have kept your damn mouth shut for once instead of making that dumb “You don’t have to
make a federal case out of it” to a guy whose literal job is making a federal case out of things…then I wouldn’t be standing here watching you turn a damned human being into a smoothie.”

Markus’s mouth twisted into an uncomfortable sneer underneath his mask, but he didn’t reply, since what she said wasn’t totally wrong.
Sure, they were going to get searched anyways, sure he wasn’t the one who actually mangled this poor unfortunate customs agent, and sure…Solveri, as per usual, wasn’t as blameless in this situation as she liked to pretend.

But it was a pretty stupid thing to say, and he did have to wonder if he could have said literally anything worse at that time.
His thoughts briefly shifted back to the victim, he couldn’t have been any further than his early twenties. How easily could Markus himself been put in the same position if he’d played it straight and narrow instead of gambling on “Mama’s Boy” and his crew? How likely would it have been that he’d have his head twisted off only to be thrown in a bathtub full of caustic material and tossed to the local cattle as slop?

He pushed those thoughts aside, he’d gambled on the riskier odds and was raking in his winnings fair and square, this kid took a gamble that his fellow man would follow the rules and value his life over credits…and that was a much, MUCH riskier bet.

“Kid got dealt a bad hand, better him than us.”

He said finally, drawing a sour look from Solveri. Regardless, she went back to her lookout duty as all the while Markus resumed his grim task, some small, niggling part of him wondering when the odds would turn out this badly for him too.

[Tally]

::Viscara::
Dimly, Markus was aware that he was slotting what would have been an entire month’s “official” paycheck back on Ord Mantell, and still with a good eight-hundred left to spare.
Idly he looked to one of his credit chips, the glittering prize that had once made bearable all the indignity and cruelty he suffered, the measure of power, status, and peace of mind.

Now, as he stared…all he could see was plastic, not gold. The ambitions of wealth and power that danced around his mind were all now just…so much plastic.

Finishing his thought, he inserted the chip and headed into his apartment, the walls and floors still bare, save for a pile of weaponry and a single bed. His friends had made plans to fix it up, back during better times, but now the bleakness perhaps served well to remind him that these weren’t happy times.
Miserably, he climbed into bed and selfishly thought of a pair of arms to hold him.

When he’d arrived on Viscara, his fantasies were full of vice, wealth, and daring schemes. The casino’s that delt in debt, hotels wall to wall with sin and temptation, piles of money he’d swindled and swiped from people he could convince himself, deserved it less.
Now his fantasies were so much simpler and yet…felt so much further away. Full of interlocked hands, tender smiles, comforting words, and loving embraces, dreams of robbery and conquest gave way to images a crystal clear picture of a family he wanted with a woman he’d twisted himself into loving dearly.

To some, it might be considered endearing, the tale of a man shirking off his greed in favor of love.
He knew better, he knew it was greed through and through, hunger that had simply found a new outlet.
He was still a dragon sitting atop his hoard of glittering prizes, only now a jewel of sparkling blue that he’d grip jealously in his twisted claws.

“She doesn’t need this.”

He stated at last as he started up at the ceiling and admonished his vice. She was struggling, far worse than he ever could. He’d promised to put aside his feelings for her and she trusted him to do so.
Silently he wrapped himself in his blanket, resigning to call Calli tomorrow.
There was still a long road to recovery, and he didn’t have time to stew in his bitterness and thirst.

[Tally]

::Viscara Coxion HQ::
Quickly one of the members of the Coxxion cartel shot a dirty look at him as he sat propped up against the wall, and for a moment Markus could feel himself back on Ord Mantell, surrounded by co-workers that barely tolerated him and he barely tolerated in return.

Still, they’d been willing to give him some shelter for the night after he’d explained that he’d had lady troubles and had been put in the doghouse.

A bald-faced lie for the most part, but he wasn’t about to tell them what happened, especially when he remembered so little himself.

Rubbing his head and taking a deep breath, he’d tried to recall the day’s events, how he’d been called by the sith who’s base he’d been trying to infiltrate, a meeting in some…camp? He remembered troopers and talking…maybe…before blacking out and waking up in the woods.
It didn’t take a genius to know it was suspicious that he wasn’t simply shot and left for dead…so he’d decided to stay away from Veles for the night while he checked for bugs, tails or whatever else might indicate when or how the other shoe was going to drop.

So for now, he stayed in the Coxxion base, holding tight until he could feel safe with returning.
Quietly he pulled out his Holophone and tapped out a little message to Ira’dana. A quick assurance that he’d found someplace to stay and that he wasn’t aware of any listening devices at the moment, but that he’d keep searching as well as a quick “goodnight” that he’d felt like adding.

Content with his message he finally sent it, before turning himself back to the task of trying to figure out this strange riddle.

[Tally]

::Ord Mantell “Old Wartigz bar” several weeks before::

Silently Markus scanned the area for any passersby, the front of the bar seemingly empty despite the interior light remaining on.
He’d figured as much of course, from the sounds of it, the old rodian that ran this place had kicked out most of the usual barflies out hours ago…all except one.
Lighting an Iho stick and sighing to himself, Markus stepped into the bar with trepidation and was greeted with quite the scene.
On the one hand was a large, well-muscled human picking up bottles of expensive booze and tossing them into the air before swatting at them with some random wooden stick he’d found.
Meanwhile the rodian that owned the bar was panicking and lamenting all the wasted credits as the unruly human patron managed to hit a strike, showering the table and floors with a burst of glass and booze.

“You’re here! Quick, get this madman out of my bar! I don’t make enough to cover all his drunken rampages.”
The Rodian demanded, prompting a tired sigh from Markus.
He’d hoped the situation hadn’t gotten this out of hand when he’d recieved the call, that maybe Junior was just getting too fresh with the ladies or had been wracking up too high a tab.
Now it was clea the young gangster was deliberately leaning on beliegered barkeep, high on his own power and untouchability as much as booze.
And now it was Markus’s job to try and bring him back down to earth.
“C’mon Junior, I’m sure there’s plenty to drink back at your mom’s place. You’ve already made enough of a splash, no need to overdo it…everyone knows you’re a big man with impress-”

“So then why should I listen to a nobody like you?..Markus? What are you gonna do? tell your boss? You think he’s gonna risk pissing off his boss…my mom…for a nobody like you?”
Junior taunted in reply, tossing up another bottle and batting it at the barkeep, who barely managed to duck the makeshift projectile.
Finally Markus stepped forward, trying to grab and hold the plank of wood and wrestle it out of junior’s hand, though failing dismally thanks to his general lack of any kind of strength.

“Dammit Junior, just for once can you not make everything a pissing contest and ju-”
And then suddenly it hit him, the sound of numbers being dialed just behind the bar.

“Wart…Put that holophone down right now.”

Markus said, letting go of Junior’s weapon and stepping over to the bar to see the rodian, huddled over his holophone, frantically pressing buttons.

“Put the holophone down Wart, I’ve got the situation under control.”

Markus cautioned, holding out a gloved hand to try and convince wart to stand down.
Meanwhile Junior seemed unphased by the obvious tension, choosing instead to simply laugh and wave a dismissive hand.

“Go ahead and call the cops bug-eye, they won’t convict me, and I’ll be paying you a visit after.”

“Junior, shut it!”

Finally at the end of his rope, Markus pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the cowering rodian. Adrenalin pumped through his veins as the situation spiralled out of his control, his mind racing with the punishment he’d face for allowing Junior to get arrested.

“Put the holophone…down.”

He growled out harshly.

The rodian looked to the gun, holophone still in hand as he stood in terrified silence.

“You…you won’t shoot me.”
He finally said before the acrid sound and smell of a blaster bolt ripped through the bar.