-Bizarre Bazaar-

Ken came across the hot planet of Secturion Reacyt in search of a rare engine part to replace the breaking one in his ship. His craft was incredibly old, and he required a special parts dealer to get what he needed. Ken was very money savvy and had the ability to simply buy himself a new ship, with his past endeavors earning him a substantial amount of money over the years. It was all stored safely with his family for free use by the entire household, yet the only one who ever touched it was his mother. The only reason she transferred money out of his account was to help his sister, she takes on many less profitable tasks than Ken.

He was happy to help his bleeding-heart sister; she does a lot of good for the universe all on her own. With that reasoning, along with the long stints he had had with no income before, he always refrained from draining his coffers too much. He was also remarkably sentimental, and loved to hold onto things for the entirety of their lives, be it people, pets, or machinery. This mentality served him well, helping to fend off the growing loneliness of the years by leading him to the most interesting places, at least occasionally, like Secturion Reacyt.

The air was dry here; this made it easy to breathe, but shade was a must as the local star system would burn you in minutes without protection, such as sunscreen or long clothing. Ken had arrived in a hurry, and he tried to find the part he needed as soon as he could. When he found the dealer, Ken was dismayed to discover that he was not interested in Ken’s money, but wanted a favor in exchange. Ken performed one task, then another for the dealer, and started to make decent money. So, he remained, justifying his stay by continuously making repairs and upgrades to his ship.

Ken was rather intrigued by the talk in the taverns around town. His favorite hobby when visiting new places was to observe the local scene. It did not take him long to discover that underneath all the legitimate, thriving businesses around him, was a dark web that spread its reach through the universe; way farther than Ken could rationalize. The planet was an astonishing 0.1 on the crime index according to Son, his infinite database, but even Son did not know of it being the central hub for the black market. Once Ken updated Son with all information he had gathered, they had over 90 trillion updates and possible links filled in Son’s overall archived and active hard drives.

Eventually he and Son devised a plan to start dismantling some of the worst offenders in the market. Through his work for the dealer, Ken had established enough of a reputation here to successfully open a business, which was surprisingly difficult to do. With Son’s help to paint an appropriate background, and supply for his chosen goods, he set up shop dead in the middle of the massive bazaar district. This is where most of the surrounding solar system shopped.

The thrift store atmosphere, and the lack of anyone who paid too close attention, made Ken extremely comfortable. He soon adopted a lackadaisical attitude, and slept often, as he presided over his weapons shop. No one stole on Secturion Reacyt; no one would think to steal from anyone here- the possibility you were dealing with someone immeasurably dangerous was too high. Ken’s display of mostly hunting weapons was hardly grand; his weapons were of the best quality, but he found flashy objects did not sell well here, unless you conceal them and make the buyer feel special for getting to see them.

Ken used this tactic to not only bring in the high spenders, but the illegal weapons buyers as well. Ken had thoroughly integrated himself into the system over forty-five years. The sun bleached his blue hair lighter and lighter during his stay, which simulated normal aging, to an extent. This helped him blend in well as a normal human. He had begun going so far as to wear a small amount of eyeliner on his lower eyelids, to make them appear darker, and also grew a beard. He appeared every bit the part he played while he participated in the game fully.

The others around him eventually all introduced themselves in one way or the other; very few did Ken seek out himself. Ken openly sold hunting weapons, because the food source on this planet was as rudimentary as it got, relying upon hunting and gathering in the massive tropical forests of the humid latitudes. This included knives of all varieties, swords, machetes, sickles, bows, and various arrowheads, all with various enchantments that were Ken’s special touch. Everything he displayed was completely legal, in most places in the universe, even the basic high-powered rifles he sold to some people.

He was careful whom he sold weapons to, and conducted a thorough background search on anyone trying to purchase even the smallest pocket knife he had on display. They believed he was running their ID through the local database. He actually ran their information through Son, who then tells Ken of all the falsehoods in their ID. He has caught many trying to trick him into revealing the illegal heavy artillery he had stored right in the basement. Ken even befriended one of the authorities who tried to bust him, and had a grand time just being friends with the man. 

Ken was too good with enchantments to ever be found out by anyone he did not want to know. Sometimes just the way Ken presented a fact enchanted the knowledge so individuals are bound to keep his secrets. The result was an exceedingly long and successful career sabotaging those who sought his favor. His most recent achievement was his grandest, and he knew he would not be able to remain at his post whenever the dominos fell, revealing one of his neighbors for who they really were. He simply assumed the authorities would storm one of their centers of operation, the person in question would retreat, and eventually be caught.

Ken was startled awake by a scuffling next to him. He woke to see a local Loranite, a clothing store owner, peaking out of his shop’s door. “Can… I help?” Was all Ken said as it continued to stare at him. The silence went on for an uncomfortable amount of time before the purveyor spoke.

“Now we both can agree we know about each other, right? Logically, I mean.” The creature spoke up nervously, as it glanced up and down the street. That is when it clicked for Ken- this must be the individual responsible for the horrific crimes he had been focused on. This was someone he had been around quite often, in all kinds of situations, but still would not call them a friend. Due to their similar company, Ken knew this individual was into something dark, and this trait revealed all those involved, in some way.

“I assume you need protection?” Ken asked as he stood up, stretched slowly, and stood in his doorway. He did routine after nap stretches using the doorframe. This allowed his visitor to be safely consumed by the dark interior of Ken’s shop while it spoke to him.

“I got busted, yeah! I need protection! Everyone knows you have the real protection.” They stammered a bit, but They seemed to settle down, no longer being exposed to the light foot traffic outside.

“You weren’t followed, were you?!” Ken asked sternly, feigning concern.

“They don’t know it’s me yet, but they will learn. No one’s escaped a bust in years!” They responded, the sound of panic in their voice.

“What did you mean by ‘we know of each other’” Ken asked as he refused to welcome the neighbor’s confidences right away, which was the best method of dealing with the people here.  “What is it you know of me, and I of you?”

“Come’on man, everyone knows you sell ‘protection’ and can use it!” The Loranite made quotations with four of its eight legs.

“I’ve provided bodyguard work, yes.” Ken played coy as he wanted them to talk openly, to earn his compliance.

“The trafficking ring, that’s me. It’s obviously me, just how you are obviously our local military, all in one outlet.” They made the quotes again, and Ken had to mask his shock by stretching to his toes and hiding his face for a moment.

“I don’t see how that was so obvious,” Ken gasped, quickly cutting it off from saying more, as Ken talked over it continuing, “a weapons dealer having illegal weapons, yes, obvious. Clothing store owner being this sector’s largest operation for trafficking living species, both sentient and otherwise, not so obvious.

“Well you know of me, at least.” They scoffed a little.

“Oh yes, that is a fact. Your workings are no secret to the community.” Ken assured them in a low voice; he was almost too shocked for words at this point by the Loranite’s blatant disregard for its own hard-earned cover during its panic. Ken agreed to protect the evil individual, and led him into his basement mini-warehouse. Ken gave Them the entire tour of his wares and They got rowdy with excitement.

Ken continued to provide for the individual; they set up a living space in Ken’s basement til the heat died down enough to smuggle them off planet. Ken also kept up his correspondence with officials, and provided them with the Loranite’s location and status. He did this with no direct contact, as Son acted in Ken’s place. Ken went about his daily business, and the Loranite got bored enough to come up and talk to Ken as he worked.

Ken and his guest had planned to leave soon. A few months had passed, and there was no more sign of police activity around them. Ken used this chance to pack his bags and start selling off his wares at large, discounted prices. The word got out fast, and Ken was cleared out by the time their deadline arrived. Ken’s thorough job vacating cemented the crime lord’s trust in Ken: for all intents and purposes, Ken looked like he was about to flee the planet.

Just before their exit, Ken’s residence was raided, and Ken and his guest were held at gunpoint in the basement. Both kneeled as they were weaponless. Being as Ken was a weapons dealer, the authorities would have searched his ship for any weapons. So, he and his temporary companion got rid of every last one of them in preparation. The two had planned out one place on the engine for the spider-like Loranite to hide temporarily. Of course, they were never meant to ever get to the ship. Ken had set everything up to end like this. He was tired of the risky lifestyle, and wanted to move on.

The Loranite was dragged out first while Ken remained on his knees. The gun in front of him lowered when the others left the room. Confused, the other ten men that remained in the room disengaged to some degree. Ken looked up and saw his friend who had tried to bust him some forty years earlier. He let out a short laugh and reached out to Ken.

“So, you’re the informant?” His friend spoke loudly to the room, to further dissipate the aggression against Ken.

“More, or less. Consider me the field man,” Ken replied as he lowered his arms. He remained kneeling though, to not alarm the guards.

“But you WERE a heavy artillery seller?” His friend asked as he looked around the striped room. Ken had even sold the shelves he had used to store the weapons, removed all wall mount holes, and painted the walls thoroughly. The paint was nice and dry, and no smell remained. It was a normal empty basement that would be going up for sale. Ken simply shrugged in response, giving a smirk to his friend who scoffed, and ordered him to come in for questioning. Ken complied without issue. His friend said something as they got to the stairs, and he took one more look around the empty room.

“Let’s hope you’ve not done more damage than you resolved.” 

Ken VI