the hooker and the gypsie part II

Later that night as he sat in the gypsy rose, with the blind hauler, who was deeply immersed in his trading type care bear activity's the neo-com flashed
"I'm ready" came the message across the screen, followed by the location in the station. he tapped the hauler to let him know to keep the engines warm, and headed out. As he walked through the halls of the Brutor tribe treasury in Rens he was sure to keep the hood up on his cheap cloak lest he be caught. The Minmatar are quite unpleasent to outlaws in their station.

After about what seemed like hours of ducking patrols and doubling back to shake any tails he arrived at a plain steel bulk head with a single red light above it, it was on she was indeed ready. Slowly sliding the door open, he slipped in quietly. With a flick of his wrist he loosed the gas spray from his belt and slowly proceded to the next room, the woman was indeed keeping the man distracted rather well to say the least, for he hardly noticed the gas gun coming over his shoulder. With a squeeze of his finger they both were out soundly.

A small twinge of dismay came over him as he thought about what would happen to the poor slob, but it quickly passed when he remembered the faction pilot had been foolish enough to let himself get caught, literaly with his pants down. He chuckled as he flipped the com unit open.
"got him" he said. A distinctly Ammaarian voice on the other end sounded pleased. He watched as the aggreed sum was deposited into his personal wallet, at which he gathered the belongings of the faction pilot in a sack, left a scrit on the end table for the passed out hooker, and got out before transmitting the coordinates to the Ammarian. He could only imagine the joy that his employer would get if he captured a known outlaw and a faction dog in one scoop. He was'nt going to let that happen.

A short time later he was back at the hanger with the blind gypsy hauler still imersed in his trades,
"time to go" he hollered as he headed for the smugglers compartment, the engines on the Badger fired back up and within moments they were on their way out of Rens and back home. This trip he had somthing better to do than stare at the walls of the darkened smugglers compartment.

As he sacked the Faction pilots pockets a look of sheer joy crossed his face. In addition to the shiny Faction wings to hang on his wall with the rest of his collection, the fool was stupid enough to bring his newly aquired pilots licence extention to the house of ill repute with him. Quickly he flipped open his com and started to find a buyer.