RPlog:An Assassin Arrives

-       As if he must personally turn the cliche about crime meetings taking place in dark, and smoke-filled bars, Gren has told Graden to meet him in a brightly lit beach-side cafe on Etti IV, in the vacation region, on the Kaluun continent. The pilot looks out of place, in his dark, and battered clothes among the scantily clad vacationers, and Twi'leks that live in the region, but no one seems to take much notice. There is also no clear sign of backup, in the nearly empty cluster of tables, as he shouldn't need it, this close to the heart of his organization's powerbase.

-	It really is a nice change from the standard shady dealings in the underbelly of society, being out in the bright light that is. Graden, after making a scanning pass of the immediate area and any high points where snipers may reside, moves in toward Gren and his table in the cafe. The red haired human takes a seat without waiting for Gren to invite him. A datachip similar to the one he recieved is slid across the table to the dark haired man almost covertly. "A present for your friends."

-         Delede quirks an eyebrow, before pocketing the datachip with a nice bit of dexterity. Gren slides another datachip across the table to Graden, before saying..."A recording from the crime scene, Graden. They got your face, before you encountered the target/ I used my connections to destroy the holovids, but in the future, we will expect you to be more careful. A cleaner that we have to clean up after, won't be of much use." There is also a creditstick with the datachip, a meagre payment, though. "But, you did kill the target, and as such, I have been authorized to bring you into our organization."

-        It was that exact news he had feared would come of this. It was a botched job to begin with, from the uniform being improperly fit to the unexpected fight the target gave up. He eyes the other man carefully and slides the credstick back to him. "The job wasn't done to specifications. I won't take payment for it." Silly honor code...it always gets in the way. Not that it will /always/ get in the way, but it is this time. He wasn't expecting payment anyway. "Keep your credits, Mr. Delede." He got what he was after, and this organization, whatever it is, has accepted him.

-        Gren isn't going to argue, as he slips the creditstick back into his own pocket. His own higher ups don't need to know that Graden didn't want the credits, do they? The ESPO leans back in his chair, before taking a sip of his caf, after which he grimaces, and retrieves his silver flask. While unscrewing the cap, he begins speaking, quietly, for Graden's ears only. "While you still will not know who you work for, you will know that you are a Pledge within our organization, and that I am known as a Soldier." A pause, while he pours a large portion of booze into his caf..."This means that if you are contacted by another Soldier or even someone more important, that you will act on their orders without argument, and with haste. Loyalty and attention to detail are what will get you ahead, within our group." The flask is replaced in it's pocket. "Do you understand?"

-       The flask is watched with great interest as well as the credstick. It's none of Graden's business where that money goes, but his eyes keep coming back to that flask. It would appear that his dear ESPO friend has a bit of a monkey on his back. The information is stored for future personal reference, as the flask was rather prominent in their previous meeting. Every word his compatriot says is comprehended and also stored for future use. "I understand, Mr. Delede." It's only a matter of time before he learns who he is working for and what their apparent agenda might be.

-        "We are a family, Graden, and that is an important thing to remember. Even if we don't always like one another, we do everything we can to protect one another." Delede delivers this without irony, even as he rubs his left arm, and upper chest, likely not realizing it. "You will be given information as you need it...and advancement will come, so long as you act with initiative, loyalty, and aggression." Gren takes a long drink of his caf, this time smiling, as it tastes much more to his liking. "But, I warn you...the rungs of the ladder to power are littered with the dead of those who came before you, and you have given me no reason to think you will be any different, in the end."

-         A chuckle eminates from the man much like it did upon their last meeting, and the sound of it shows his distaste with the way he is being spoken to. It's not a disrepectful tone, but one that shows he knows what's up. "Again you begin to underestimate me, Mr. Delede. You cannot judge a man by one job alone. I have learned that lesson many times over, and soon I'm sure you will learn it as well." Apparently the young man doesn't like being underestimated. "In the end, we will all litter the rungs of any ladder of power we struggle to climb. It is the nature of things. We are combatants in this world, and combatants are born to die."

-         "If I had judged you by one job alone, you wouldn't be sitting here." Gren notes coldly, before taking another long sip of his caf, a bit of a smile forming on his face. It is not a friendly smile, of course. "I've survived flying unshielded, and poorly armed Mark I Tie fighters, fought countless battles, killed many enemies, and faced nearly unbelievable odds, kid. I don't intend to litter any rungs, myself. I'm going to die in bed, fat and drunk and old." Draining his caf, the man slides his empty cup forward slightly..."Do you have any questions?"

-        As if the service record, most likely exaggerated, of a drunk is supposed to impress him, it doesn't. The young man doesn't show disrespect though, choosing at this point to keep his opinion to himself. He merely nods as the ESPO babbles on about his greatness. It is certainly possible that he will die at least drunk and probably fat. Graden shakes his head slowly. "No questions, unless there is another task set for me."

-         "We need no one dead, atleast no one that fits into your limited range of targets." Gren notes, before standing, and tossing payment for his caf onto the table. "You will be contacted, when your services are required." The ESPO adjusts his gunbelt, and the tacky vibroblade which hangs from it, before turning, and heading toward a speeder that's parked not too far away. A final glance over his shoulder... "Just be careful, and don't lose your step. It's a long climb to the top." Gren knows that, for sure. -	Graden nods quietly until the older man is well out of earshot before standing up. "Yes, it must be a long climb when you're drunk." The assassin shakes his head and retrieves anything that may have been left about that should be picked up. His lack of enjoyment of Gren's company shouldn't in anyway be construed as a lack of respect, even if it is a respect based soley on age and seniority. After a moment, the young man turns to return to his ship and get off-world as soon as humanly possible.