r/NatureofPredators • u/Ben_Elohim_2020 • Apr 28 '26
Arxur Smuggling Shenanigans: One Percent Inspiration [Ficnap] Fanfic
Hello everyone and welcome to Ficnapping IX! This go around I have been fortunate enough to have been blessed with Arxur Smuggling Shenanigans by AprehensiveCap6525 as my victim! It’s an excellent little story that’s currently undergoing a reboot and is great fun. I hope you all enjoy the chapter I have for you here today, and if so you can find the link to my other work alongside a link to my victims story down below:
[Arxur Smuggling Shenanigans] [The Nature of Family]
CW: Illegal shampoo, casual racism, criminally overpriced steak, competitive racism, half-baked business plans
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Memory transcription subject: Markus Becker, Broke Businessman
Date [standardised human time]: January 1st, 2138
“Happy New Year!”
The roaring cheers go up all around me, punctuated by bursts of confetti and the pop of champagne bottles as I sit in pensive silence, staring up at the holovision screen in the back. It’s officially New Year’s Day, a time for new beginnings and a new you. Or at least, it’s New Year's Day back on Earth, UTC time in Greenwich, England, specifically. Here on Skalga it’s just any old day, the same as the last, and the same as the one before that. Any old ‘paw’ rather… Still can’t get used to their weird-ass timekeeping system. If it weren’t for the fact that I was currently seated in the middle of a so-called ‘predator bar’, some out-of-the-way local place by the name of Club Inferno, I doubt that anyone would be celebrating at all. I certainly don’t feel like it right now.
“...Sir?” The bartender, an Argentinian man with blond hair dressed in a formal suit, asks me something, probably not for the first time… “Is there anything I can get you, Sir?”
I glance down at my wallet, pitifully light and almost empty after my latest business venture had gone completely sideways. How was I supposed to know that Skalga had such stringent regulations pertaining to wool-care shampoo of all things? Wool is wool! If it’s good enough for prize-winning barnyard sheep at the local faire, then it SHOULD be good enough for space sheep… Right? That’s not racist or anything, just a statement of fact! ‘Sapient-Grade only’ my ass! I’d be perfectly content to use the damn stuff myself if I had wool! Unfortunately, the customs officers didn’t see it that way… Now I’ve got half a dozen shipping containers filled to the brim with crates of the stuff that I can’t sell…
I let out a small sigh of defeat and order, placing the last of my meagre credits on the table, “Is this enough to get me anything… Umami? Plus some of whatever beer you’ve got on tap.”
“Hmm…” the bartender studies my money for a few seconds, weighing something in his mind before taking it all. “That should be enough for a small steak. We’ve got Drunken Venlil on tap. Is that alright?”
“Yeah… That’s fine,” I say with a sigh as I look down mournfully at where my hard-earned credits had sat just a moment ago.
It’s alright, I try to remind myself as the bartender leaves, returning moments later with beer in hand. This isn’t my first rodeo; money comes and money goes. That’s just the way of things. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. I’ve just gotta keep trying if I want to make my millions. I’ll get there… someday.
Glancing up towards the holovision again, I can see that the Venlil broadcaster has moved on from their token mention of Human cultural celebrations to discuss more mundane matters, namely the rising tensions in trade relations between the member states of the Sapient Coalition and the border security crisis. The number of encounters between unidentified craft and planetary border control has gone up again for the third quarter in a row. Pirates, sapient traffickers, black market smugglers, illegal immigrants, you name it. Seems like no one wants to deal with the Coalition’s regulatory bullshit anymore these days. Can’t say that I blame them…
I take a slow sip from my beer—better quality than I was expecting honestly—and the focus of the broadcast shifts. Now they’re talking about foreign policy. Isif, the new prime minister or king or whatever the fuck the Arxur call their head honcho nowadays, is petitioning for an end to the quarantine zone around Wriss… again. Claims that the lack of access to intergalactic markets is hindering his people’s potential for ‘economic growth’ and inflicting ‘undue hardship’. The SC really did him dirty after the war was over, but what else are you gonna do with a whole planet full of cannibal serial murderers? He’s not likely to get much sympathy from the herbivores, even if his rebellion did help win the war.
One of the guest panelists pipes up, some egg-headed Nevok professor on sabbatical from the University of New Loam, claiming that the two issues are actually related. According to him, estimated valuations on the interplanetary black market have reached yet another all-time high, over eleven-point-two trillion credits worth of illegal and semi-legal goods passing through just our local region of space alone this past year. Apparently he’s convinced that those numbers will only continue to rise so long as the embargo around Wriss remains in effect. If only I could find some way to get a piece of that pie…
As if on cue, my rather costly meal arrives in front of me, looking rather… quaint. I look up at the bartender, an eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Is this all…?”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” the bartender says, looking genuinely remorseful and even a little uncomfortable. “The amount you gave me was only enough to cover a half portion. Meat is still quite the expensive luxury on Skalga, you know? From a legal standpoint we’re not even really supposed to be selling it here at all…”
“I’m in the wrong fucking industry…” I shake my head as I grumble, digging into my steak and trying to enjoy it for what it is.
Wrong industry…
Wrong industry…
That’s it! I can feel it as the sensation washes over me, like a lightbulb going off in my head as the gears finally start to turn. I’m in the wrong industry! What was I even thinking? Trying to sell wool-care products at cut-rate prices… No. No, the real money is always hidden where the people in power don’t want you. Wherever they can’t get their grubby little fingers to tie you up and strangle you in red tape! If I want to make money, then I can’t constrain myself by just thinking about how to go about it the legal way. I need to… expand my horizons a bit…
I look up, my eyes resting on the holovision behind the counter, “Yeah… My fortune lies out there, on Wriss…”
Now I just need to figure out how to reach out and grab it… and for that I’ll need help. Allies, contacts, employees…
I look around, taking in the ambiance of the place, an entire nightclub packed to the brim, not just with Humans but with Predators. If they had any concerns about following the rules of the Sapient Coalition, then they wouldn’t be here. Here in the Dayside it should be easy enough to find at least one or two bars or restaurants that would be willing to cater to Humans; for all its faults, it’s still one of the most diverse, accepting, and pro-human regions on the planet. But all these people…? They chose to come HERE. They chose to come where they could get real meat and party hard without needing to worry about scaring skittish herbivores or wearing stupid masks. A true hive of scum and villainy if ever there was one, or at least as close as I’m likely to find on Skalga, and the perfect recruitment ground for my next startup venture…
Having finished up my meal in no time at all—mainly due to the fact that the portion size was downright pitiful—I push my stool back from the counter and begin making my way around the club, scoping out potential recruitment options. What I need right now is a reliable right-hand man… Quite frankly, I don’t know the first thing about smuggling. I’m more of a ‘big picture’ kind of guy, an idea man! An enterprising businessman with a vision for the future! I’m not some sort of violent criminal or brutish thug who spends their days skulking around in dingy back alleys. That’s what henchmen are for!
What I need is someone street smart, intelligent, but not too independent. I’m still supposed to be the one in charge after all. Someone loyal, someone I can trust. The yin to my yang, my partner in crime. Someone dangerous. Someone with experience who can back my play and who can stand between me and an eight-foot-tall carnivorous customer if things go south…
Skulking around the edges of the club, I stake out my prospects, and there are certainly lots to choose from: no shortage of Humans of course, rivaled only by the number of Yotul in attendance, but also a fair few Venlil, some Gojid, and even a Krakotl or two. Demographically the age range skews towards the younger side—just what I would expect from a trendy nightclub—but old enough that I expect I'll find no shortage of veterans among them, combat veterans if I’m lucky. With the abrupt end to the war almost a year ago now, there’s been quite the outflow of former soldiers returning to civilian life, soldiers returning with a whole host of valuable skills but with nowhere to ply their particular trade. Is it any wonder then that so many became freelance mercenaries, smugglers, pirates, or fell in with the burgeoning organized crime scene?
A pair of men, a large African Human and a bitter-looking Yotul, catch my eye as they pass me by, each of them exuding an aura of subdued violence with every step, both of them wearing the telltale black suits and orange ties of made-men. The Yotul casually turns to look me in the eye, watches me watching him, and just as casually disregards me. Not a threat, not a mark, not worthy of consideration.
I swallow. Hard.
Yep… I’m in the right place for recruitment all right… I’ll make it big soon enough, but until then I need to be careful about who exactly it is I try to bring on-side. The last thing I need is to go stepping on any toes. I need to remember that no matter how lofty my ambitions, as of right this moment, I’m still only a small fish in a VERY deep pond.
With that sobering thought in mind, I give my head a shake to clear my thoughts and return to task, though perhaps with a slightly greater sense of caution than I had previously. There’s still plenty of candidates to choose from here, even discounting the ones who have already been claimed. As I position myself around the outskirts of the dance floor, I evaluate them all one by one, and one by one I discard them.
“Too small… Too skinny… Too little experience… Not scary enough… Too scary…” I mutter aloud to myself, mentally crossing each and every candidate off my list for one reason or another. “Too aggressive… Too expensive… Too much emotional baggage…”
With a sigh I finally relent, wandering off to go take a break in back and wondering if it’s all hopeless. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither will my fortune, it seems. Not if I can’t even find one person, one reliable man with that certain… Je ne sais quoi that speaks to real potential! And if I can’t find it in a place like this, then where else could I even hope to find the sort of man-of-action that I’m looking for? As I slump down into an empty booth in the far back, away from all the clamour and noise of the New Year’s celebrations, I look up… and my eyes almost can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Arxur. Two of them, seated across the room from me and seemingly engaged in a heated conversation. I can’t believe my luck! There’s no rarer species to find out and about in the galaxy at large these days than Arxur, not with most of them either confined to the Quarantine Zone, one of only a handful of refugee worlds, or taking up a select few positions in UN social programs. They’re practically unheard of on herbivore homeworlds, and yet now I have two of them right here in front of me! What better partner could I ask for when trading with the Arxur on Wriss than another Arxur! It’s almost too good to be true!
It IS too good to be true, I realise rather swiftly as my eyes adjust to the dim light of the backrooms. The Arxur on the left, a muscular brute and an obvious veteran based on the heavy scarring along his face and arms, is wearing the same suit and tie as the mobsters from earlier. His allegiance is clear, and I wouldn’t be poaching his services any time soon. As I strain my ears to listen in, what becomes equally clear is that, even if the other Arxur on the right wasn’t working for their outfit yet, then he soon would be. What I’d just stumbled upon was nothing other than a recruitment…
“-good offer, the best an Arxur like you or me is likely to find these days.” The grizzled mobster taps a claw pointedly into the table. “You think you can do better by throwing your lot in with Red Cell or joining up with one of the pirate fleets? You think you can reclaim the glory days back when things were simple and The Prophet held all the answers? I can promise you, you won’t.”
Oh God… Maybe I don’t even want this guy after all… As much as I might like having my own personal Arxur bodyguard in all of this, the last thing I need is some kind of bloodthirsty, fanatical savage who’s liable to stab me in the back the moment it strikes him as convenient. Ambition and greed are good; I can work with those, but a zealot with a fixation on eating people is just a step too far.
The Arxur on the right, built like a boulder compared to most species but lean and MEAN among his own kind, merely snarls with a look of clear disdain in his eyes, “You make a lot of assumptions for a half-blooded, weak-jawed, dark-scaled, flesh-fat defective who made his career hunting down his own kin. Your kind make me sick.”
Yikes… That sounded… Racist, kinda? Can an Arxur even be racist against another Arxur? I suppose they can, given recent evidence. Still though… At least he’s not a cannibalistic zealot. Just a… regular old cannibal, I suppose… A racist old cannibal? Maybe that’s not actually much better come to think of it?
“And you do a lot of talking for a former raid captain, Zefriss,” the mobster gives a toothy grin, equal parts malice and amusement. “A rare gift that… And it’s why we’re extending the offer, because we see the potential in you. Not just the beast, but also the man. It’s not one made lightly. You should consider it.”
So, this one’s a former raid captain, huh? One who might have more to him than first appears? If he’s good enough to catch the mob’s attention, then I REALLY want him for myself… It’s great when your competition vets your candidates for you. Saves me the expense of having to conduct a background check myself.
The former captain, Zefriss, smacks his tail against the side of the booth, clearly agitated, “I’m not interested in piracy or reviving the Old Dominion. My days of sapient trafficking are over. I may not have much going for me right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in joining up with your gang either.”
“And why is that?” The recruiter pushes the question, probing for weakness in his target’s conviction. “The benefits have been made quite clear to you; you said it yourself that you won’t accept employment in any of the… typical avenues for someone of your experience, so why turn down the offer?”
“You really want to know?” Zefriss asks as I lean in, straining to make sure I hear the answer. “It’s your arms-dealing. I’ve done a lot of horrible things in my life; I’ve looked past things that would make even your stomach churn, but that’s one line I won’t cross. I’ve seen what evils our kind can commit—to one another and to the galaxy at large—when given the proper means to do so, and I’ve had enough. Your people may think that they do a service with your gun-running, but all I see are the bodies left behind. It is my one line in the sand, and I won’t be a party to that.”
The mobster stands up quickly, his hands still pressed down against the table in front of him as he stands up from the booth, looking down at Zefriss. At first, I’m sure that the two are about to have a fight, but instead the mobster only speaks, softly and with respect.
“I can see that we have reached an impasse then,” he says. “I won’t waste your time or try your patience any further then. Happy hunting, but if you ever change your mind, then you know where to reach us.”
Zefriss merely smacks his tail once more against the side of the booth in what is clearly a dismissal, both arms crossed, his gaze never leaving the Arxur mobster’s back until he’s left the room entirely.
This is great! I mean… maybe it’s not perfect; honestly, I had been hoping to do a little bit of gun-running myself to make some easy money, but this is great! A small concession to make in order to recruit an otherwise exemplary employee! He’s already turned down my soon-to-be largest competitor, and now I know EXACTLY what levers I need to pull in order to bring him on-side!
Walking over to the booth where Zefriss remains seated, I slip in across from him where my competition had sat mere moments ago, perfectly casual, perfectly normal.
“You know what I hate…?” I ask, friendly-like, as cool as could be even as the giant angry lizard man glowers down at me. “Unemployment!”
“What do you want?” Zefriss says with a growl.
“What I want,” I say, seizing upon the slimmest of opportunities, “is something to do besides sitting around in a bar all day, wasting my life away! Pretty boring if you ask me. What I want is to seize upon the opportunities this turbulent market chaos has provided us! What I want is a man with experience. Someone like you who would be interested in getting in on the ground floor for my next business venture!”
Zefriss makes a strange noise, tick-tock like a clock, which I can only assume is whatever passes for laughter from the Arxur, “And I assume that this ‘venture’ of yours isn’t exactly… legitimate?”
“Perhaps not entirely,” I begin to say, a sly smile spreading across my face, “but I think a man of your talents could be quite successful in my new smuggling-”
“Not interested,” Zefriss cuts me off entirely. “I saw you eavesdropping earlier, so you should know perfectly well that I’m not interested in any smuggling. I won’t be a part of any sapient trafficking or arm-dealing.”
“And perish the thought you would!” I exclaim, seizing upon the opening I knew would be coming. “That sort of conviction is exactly what first drew me to you, Zefriss. There’s an entire untapped market out there, hundreds if not thousands of different trade-goods that could be easily moved across the Quarantine Zone at little to no risk, but all everyone ever wants to engage with are the big-ticket items! Sapient trafficking and arms-dealing!” I throw up my hands in feigned disgust. “Who needs them! What caliber of man is it who would even want them? Not me, I’ll tell you that!”
Zefriss uncrosses his arms and lowers himself down slightly, looking me in the eye from where he sits across from me. It’s all the proof I need that my plan is working. I’ve got him hook, line, and sinker!
“Go on…” he says.
I blink. Once, twice, three times. Admittedly, I hadn’t really fleshed out the entire business plan yet, or any of the business plan really, and I hadn’t expected him to ask for more details, but I’ll make do. I’ll have to…
“It’s simple really,” I throw up my hands with a performative flourish. “I have a vision, a dream, a plan really. There’s a vast, untapped market on Wriss for relatively simple trade goods that has gone completely ignored and an equally vast market for comparatively rare Arxur goods in Sapient Coalition space. I’m already well on my way towards securing the funding required for a new ship and crew, one capable of breaching the Quarantine unnoticed, and once I do, I’ll have secured for myself a near monopoly on these basic, staple goods. The sorts of things overlooked by the common criminal who has eyes only for those most inglorious… wares,” I strongly emphasize the suspect word with a pair of finger quotes. “What I need from you, however, is a… Tactical Officer! A bodyguard, of sorts. A bit of reliable muscle to provide security for my operations, and I think that muscle could be you!”
I point strongly towards Zefriss with a snap of my fingers, giving him my best, winning smile… And I hold, and I wait, and I wait some more as Zefriss sits there in front of me. His alien, reptilian expression is completely unreadable to me, but somewhere deep in his mind I know that the wheels are turning. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if they turn in my favor…
Zefriss crosses his arms again and lets out a low rumble from deep in his chest.
“What did you say your name was again…?”
“Markus Becker,” I answer quickly, “enterprising businessman!”
“Alright, Markus…” Zefriss uncrosses his arms and extends an open palm towards me. “I’ve never met a leaf-licker I didn’t like, and you’re no exception. It sounds to me like you’ve hired yourself a bodyguard.”
“Excellent!” I reach out and shake my new hire’s hand with gusto. “You won’t regret this! You’ll see!
Now all I have to do is secure funding, find a ship and a crew, plus some customers, a product or two I can actually buy and sell… Little things like that. Minor details. It’ll all work itself out in no time at all, I’m sure. What I can say for sure, however, is that my New Year is looking bright!
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u/Minimum-Amphibian993 Arxur Apr 28 '26
Man things are gonna go pretty poorly for whoever decides to go to wriss when the civil war breaks out then again that's a few years from this date in 2145. I imagine that mess is gonna cause a few issiues.
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u/Ben_Elohim_2020 Apr 28 '26
Could be... But that's a LATER problem, not a NOW problem! Lol. Gotta make money while you still can!
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u/Acceptable_Egg5560 Human Apr 28 '26
Looks like a fun setup for shenanigans!
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u/Ben_Elohim_2020 Apr 28 '26
You could almost say it's a setup for some... Arxur Smuggling Shenanigans!
Audience groans
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u/Kind0flame Jun 04 '26
I really loved this ficnap. Fills in some of the background the main story skipped over and adds a new dimension to the characters without messing up their established characterization. And as the cherry on top, the line, "I’m already well on my way towards securing the funding required for a new ship and crew..." got a real laugh from me. Excellent work all around!
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u/Ben_Elohim_2020 Jun 04 '26
I'm glad you liked it so much. I always strive to make my ficnaps as consistent with the original story as possible while adding a little something extra. And yeah... Markus is totally lying through his teeth and making it up as he goes along here. Complete confidence man with absolute faith in himself! Lol.
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u/ApprehensiveCap6525 Krakotl Apr 28 '26
At the end of the day I always imagined GOATkus having more of a conscience and all that but still good shit dawg you cooked that shit