Rising up from a Nobleman to Intergalactic Warlord!!

---Race Day, 3rd Person POV ---

Arriving in the VIP parking garage beneath the arena, Victor’s family and friends stepped out of his luxury hovercar limousine and quickly began to fix their dresses. Wearing the most luxurious of outfits, befitting the lovers/wives of a high-ranking nobleman, each of the women could have easily been mistaken for a famous supermodel. Even the hostesses who were sheepishly hiding amongst them looked completely unrecognizable from when they had first met Victor and company. No longer exhausted, famished, and sickly, they were a shining example of what diamonds in the rough truly meant.

“Good morning, ladies! Please allow me to escort you to Lord Stark’s viewing tower.”, Vikzel shouted, overwhelmed by the beauties standing before him. ‘Dear lord, please do not let Lord Tiure catch sight of these women. If he does, I fear there will be a bloodbath in the arena today…’

“Good morning, Sir Vikzel. We appreciate you personally coming to see us to our seats.”, Olivia remarked, with a warm smile.

“Yes, thank you as well for the hospitality you have shown us during our stay here. While it is a shame we will be leaving after the celebration today, we will definitely be back to visit Tatooine again very soon.”, Angelica added, with a professional smile.

“Thank you for your kind words; it has been a pleasure serving you during your stay with us. Now please, follow me; the race will begin within the next ten minutes or so.”, Vikzel said, turning and walking toward the VIP lift.@@novelbin@@

Taking the lift three stories up, Vikzel led the women across the track to the tower Victor had specially reserved for them. Noticing them almost immediately, the fans and the racers themselves fell silent as they looked upon them intently. Watching each of them give Victor a good luck kiss before carrying on to their seats, everyone began booing him loudly. Flipping every one of them the bird, he began to heartily laugh at how they were treating him.

Ensuring that the women had everything they needed, Vikzel excused himself so he could head to his personal seat in Jabba’s booth. Waiting for the Ishi Tib to vanish from sight, the hostesses let out a long sigh of relief as they sunk into their chairs.

“Alright, we made it to the viewing tower without any issues. Vikzel and everyone else present did not notice anything out of place.”, the Lethan Twi’lek announced over the radio. “Your hologram technology is peerless, Victor. I have seen other diplomats use similar items, but yours is by far the most superior of them all.”

“Haha, I am glad to hear you think so. The hologram tech I am using is still a prototype, so please inform me if you notice any problems during the race.”, Victor requested, watching their viewing platform slowly begin to rise. “How are we looking at Jabba’s palace?”

“Not that I am complaining, but are we sure that fat ass is a genuine crime boss? Breaking into his palace felt way too easy, and he left only thirty guards to protect his residence.”, Ionica commented, glancing back at Ahsoka and Bo-Katan, “If it is this easy, why haven't the Order or the Republic taken him out already? A job like this should be a cakewalk for a seasoned assassin.”

“The security here is lax because he prioritizes his personal safety over everything else. When you are as powerful and wealthy as he is, if someone were to destroy your residence, you would just build another with the money you make in a single day.”, Bo-Katan remarked, as the door to the dungeon came into view, “As for why the Order and the Republic have not taken him out yet, they are afraid of disrupting the delicate balance of the current status quo. Killing one of the Hutt crime bosses will create a power vacuum that is sure to kick off a bloody internal power struggle. There is no telling how it will end, but rest assured trillions of people will be dead before it ends.”

While she knew Bo-Katan had a valid point, Ahsoka could not accept that peace had to be maintained on the backs of innocent people. Having spent a great deal of time speaking with the Lethan Twi’lek and her colleagues, the Padawan discovered that the Hutts had far more allies within the Republic than she expected. Sharing with her everything they had learned during their tenure in Jabba’s service, she was mortified to learn that some Jedi and Senators, both active and retired, frequented Tatooine and Jabba’s casino. Utilizing all the various services offered by Jabba and his cohorts, many poor slaves had died by their drunken or lustful hands.

“Just because things are going easier than expected does not mean you should let your guard down. Stay focused and triple-check everything before extracting the hostages.”, Victor remarked, wanting them to keep their heads in the game. “As for our stunning assistants, remember, just smile and wave. That is all you need to do from here on out.”

“Hehe, we are well aware.”, the lavender Twi’lek acknowledged, staring at his unusual attire. “I know we said it earlier this morning, but you look amazing in the sleeveless leather jacket.”

Choosing to wear a copy of Lobo’s attire for the race, as it just felt right, Victor was excited to cut loose again after such a long time. Blowing the women in his viewing tower a flirtatious kiss, they squealed with delight before starting to cheer for him enthusiastically. Enraged by this display, the racer to Victor’s right finally lost it.

“Hey buddy, you do not need to flaunt your whores around!”, the Toydarian seethed, “We get it, you are filthy, stinking rich. Stop rubbing it in our faces.”

“You must have a death wish if you are going to talk about my family and friends like that.”, Victor remarked, giving the xeno a bloodthirsty smile. “Rest assured, your ugly mug will not see the end of lap one. I will personally make sure you are nothing more than a splatter mark on the canyon wall.”

“Touch a nerve, did I? Too bad you will not be able to follow through with that threat. Every racer here is just chomping at the bit to take you out.”, the Toydarian laughed, believing they could overwhelm him with numbers.

“Oh no, whatever will I do!”, Victor mocked him in a humorous tone. “If you think I am worried about twenty-seven pissants, you have another thing coming to you.”

Having overheard the conversation, several other racers turned to Victor with venomous glares. Settling back into their cockpits, as pit crews began leaving the track, everyone turned their attention to Jabba’s booth. Wriggling onto his balcony, the Hutt waved to the energetic crowd with a hearty smile. Due to Victor’s participation in this year’s Boonta Eve Race, they had raked in over five times more money than anticipated. As there was a great deal of animosity toward the Imperium of Man within the Galactic Republic, xenos from all over had paid a great deal to witness his potential death during the race.

“Vikzel, if Lord Stark survives this race, gift him those women who have been keeping him company. I want to build a good relationship with him and bring him back for next year’s race.”, Jabba commanded his subordinate.

“Of course, Lord Tiure, it will be done!”, Vikzel assured him.

Giving a nod to the commentators across the track from him, they began to announce the participants in this year’s race. Starting their engine(s) when their name was called, racers gave a friendly wave to the crowd before doing one final check of their dials. When the announcers got to Victor, the crowd made their disdain known as they zealously booed him. Firing up the Spacehog’s engine, Victor revved it loudly, drowning out the announcers, crowd, and other vehicles. Easing off the throttle, after a few seconds, the arena fell silent as Victor gave everyone a childlike grin.

“With that, we are ready to kick off this year’s Boonta Eve Classic!”, the announcers proclaimed, quickly recovering from their shock. “Lord Tiure, when you are ready, please start us off.”

“Absolutely, good luck to all of you!”, Jabba cackled as he hit the gong next to him.

The instant the green light illuminated, every racer punched it, quickly leaving the starting line at high speed. Instead of blitzing everyone with the Spacehog’s blistering speed, Victor opted to hang out in the middle of the group to have some fun. Making a beeline for him, the Toydarian from earlier attempted to crash into him as the canyon came into view. Flipping over the top of the incoming podracer, Victor watched his opponent slam into another racer, sending them careening into a sandstone pillar.

“You Imperial bastard, fancy tricks will only get you so far!!”, the Toydarian howled, completely indifferent to the life he just took. “Just die already, you xenophobe.”

“Not all Imperials are xenophobic, you ugly motherfucker. If I were one, why the hell do I have xenos in my harem?”, Victor pointed out, as the canyon was almost upon them, “Anyways, I hope you reflect on that tidbit of information in the afterlife!”

“You… I had not…”, the Toydarian began to stutter, “Wait a moment, maybe we can- “

Holding tightly onto the Spacehog’s handlebars, Victor lifted himself up and flung his mass to the left, slamming his boots into the Toydarian’s right engine. Forcing him off course, the xeno let out a horrified scream before slamming into the rock face and exploding into a massive fireball.

“No one talks about the Main Man’s family and friends like that and lives to tell the tale!”, Victor laughed, as the racers behind him looked on in disbelief and horror, “Let’s show those punks what a real race looks like, Spacehog!”

Revving her engine loudly in response, the two of them began steadily weaving their way toward the front of the pack.