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Post by Deleted on Jun 12, 2014 13:31:47 GMT -8
He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the industrial sprawl of Rimma city, eyes glazed over at the vapid scene before him. It was a large city to be sure, and one of several - several, not many! - across the planet. To be sure the largest, Rimma city seemed to have the higher upscale central city district, the space port district, and the ever smoking industrial and refinery district. The corporate CEO's and stockholders seemed to enjoy watching the cities sprawling industrial sites chug and puff there materials into the sky, an ever present assurance of their wealth. Disgusting. Yet, Lordran couldn't ignore the fact people thrived here...a booming residential district, and plenty of outlets for the middle working class were indicative enough of this.
This was all besides the point of course. He was here for Dante...though it was curious as to why he had chosen this dust ball over all the various other places he could have exiled himself. Whatever, it mattered little, what DID matter was drawing Dante out...Lordran wouldn't stand a chance in one on one combat against Dante; especially now that he was a Jedi. There had to be a way to draw him out from his durasteel shell, out from his exile in the desert, to a place where Lordran could strike at him. A place they could fight on even terms. The answer still eluded him.
A gurgle split the room, and the purple eyed avian glanced down at himself, an eyebrow raised.
...How long had he been sitting here? A couple of taps on his datapad told him he had been here...ah, that explained it; just a little over five hours. Shaking his head, Lordran pulled up the listings for local restaurants, and then cringed openly. The middle class was decidedly middle class...in the sense the food was cheap, plentiful, and high in fat. For an avian such as himself, he required more of a non-human diet. This meant high priced food, as food of his own variety was something of an import. Flipping through the listings, he saw one particular restaurant that caught his eye. Krischlev's. Looking up the address, he called his cab once more, and then sat about the wait through traffic...
- - - - -
Krischlev's was located atop a tower in central city apparently, adorned with various landing pads wreathed in vines of an unidentified sort. Very romantic. Indeed, even the lettering of the Krischlev neon sign seemed to be tailored in an old coruscanti style - very tasteful. Coming to the front of the restaurant, Lordran glanced about the establishment, noticing the lack of clientele. No doubt very exclusive...or low on business. By the looks of it though, Lordran was going to run with exclusive. The droid at the front held up a hand, and Lordran simply handed over a credit chip to him - a credit chip with a VERY large amount on it. Enough to open up a table, and then keep it reserved under his name for the rest of the year. Clearing its throat, the waiter droid gave a stiff bow to Lordran, before gesturing to a table off to the side near a window, in a relatively low lit corner. Lordran was used to this. Food became something of an expense, unfortunately, on worlds like this where neither an multi-species restaurant nor a food synthesizer was present. He ordered, and all too soon a large bowl of salad came out, complete with live, wriggling worms. A Tranoshani specialty, though, popular with the avian crowd as well. Diggin in, Lordran eyed the crowd, idly chewing his worms and greens. Not really noting anyone of importance. Some humans, a few human couples, the scattered alien. Nothing too special.
Albeit, the food was rather good.
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Post by Simon Monroe on Jun 12, 2014 17:34:14 GMT -8
This time, the door creaked rather than slammed open, and Monroe strode through to find Finch back at her microscope examining more blood. He rapped his knuckles quietly on the nearest table, so as not to startle her too badly this time, and waited for her to finish when she held a finger up to indicate as much. When she finally replaced the blood slide in its case and turned to him, he pulled the deathstick from between his lips and spoke.
"What did you find?"
She slid off her stool and moved to grab his jacket, which was laying where he had left it, except now it was neatly folded.
"The particle residue was deteriorating a lot faster than it was in Mister Shenlo, but that's to be expected since it's just a piece of cloth and there's no organic tissue to trap any of it. Maybe you should think about switching to wool. The neutron trace signature was a little distorted, probably because of the metal in your arm, but it wasn't enough to throw off the entire analysis. She handed him his jacket then grabbed a datapad and began scrolling through it, muttering something that sounded like a fair portion of the periodic table under her breath as she read. "Ah, here we are. Particle signature analysis tee-aych-dash-ten. Looks like..." A couple more sections of the periodic table as she compared the results on the pad with the work she'd done in her head just a few moments prior, then she looked up at him with a smile. "You've got yourself a match. Whoever shot you is the same guy who killed Mister Shenlo."
He chuckled at that, seeing as he'd been the one to shoot himself, but the gun used had been that of Mr. Devlin Lyons. Finally, he had something concrete on the man. It was well past time he was brought in to answer for his actions.
"Thank you. You have no idea how helpful you've been. Can I get a copy of that evidence report?"
"Sure thing. I'll just send it to your personal datapad. I just need the comm number."
She brought up the notes function on her own datapad and handed it to him, and he punched in his comm code before turning to leave. Once again, he was stopped by her voice behind him.
"Before you go..." She said, pausing as she fidgeted nervously with a button on her lab coat. She didn't want to seem too forward, but she REALLY wanted a look at those cybernetics. "Have I been helpful enough to get a peek at your augmentations?" She was trying really hard to avoid sounding like a kid asking for some candy, and not entirely succeeding.
Monroe turned back to face her slowly, still mulling it over in his head. He'd been doing that since he left here twenty minutes ago, but still hadn't convinced himself one way or the other. He didn't like the idea of letting someone that close, letting them see what made him tick, but if she could help him solve the problems these implants caused...
"Alright. It'll have to be late, my job keeps me pretty busy, but how does tomorrow night sound?"
"Great!" Way too much squeal. "I mean, uh, that sounds good. I'll see you then." She was beaming from ear to ear before he even made it out the door, in spite of how hard she tried to hide her excitement. She'd never gotten to see any operational high-end cybernetics close up, and now she was about to get her chance.
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Jun 13, 2014 3:06:09 GMT -8
Devlin's eyes lit up as a waiter droid brought him a bottle of Corellian Reserve Brandy and a glass, setting both on the table. He immediately uncorked the bottle and poured four fingers of the drink into his glass. He took a long sip of the sweet tasting, alcoholic beverage before speaking. "Vandelhelm is a resource rich world. The companies that have rights to the land pay good credits for competent transporters. People who can safely navigate the Cloud are in short supply. The company I work for could help you get high priority goods to transport. Better pay, less work...most of the time. There is a chance several of the packages would require 'No Questions Asked.' I can try and keep the bad jobs from making their way over to your comm." Devlin finally couldn't hold back the question anymore."I know this is a bit personal, but when did you have a run in with the business end of a lightsaber? The scars on your left side. Must have been someone with a grudge." As soon as Devlin stopped speaking the waiter droids came back to their table and placed their meals down in front of them. Before Devlin lay a twenty four ounce porterhouse steak, with a tiny salad to somewhat off balance the horrible amount of what could only be clogged arteries and heart attacks in his future. Devlin wondered what Mirian had ordered, having only pointed on her menu, and glanced over as he began cutting his steak. She seemed to be ordering less pricey items. Did she not know he was covering the bill, or was it because she did know. Devlin sighed, and in his mind the word 'Women' echoed for a moment. "......" And just like that, any good feelings she might have raised up crashed. She felt her cheeks burning, not from embarrassment, but pain, and anguish. All the emotions related to the scars. The tip of her nose reddened slightly as she struggled to fight down the urge to cry. The reason she hid her scars was not because of how disfiguring they looked...okay, well, partially because of that...but also because of the questions that often came once people saw her marks. They'd ask her how, why, what, who, where, when, the five Ws and one H to encompass every detail of the incident. On one hand, she would love to be free of it, but on the other, it would be like shedding of the one bright spark in her past.
Taelonn.
He was like a little brother to her. He trusted in her, and listened to every little thing she had to say. Because she was only a few years older than him, they grew close, like genuine siblings. As it was, they sort of looked alike. And she utterly failed him, on that fateful day, when she was given the scars that she would carry for life.
She almost blurted out to Devlin that she was a Jedi before. The galaxy's lousiest Jedi, to boot. There had to be a Galactic Record for her somewhere. Fortunately, her clearly agitated state also helped get her all tongue-tied, and she opened and closed her mouth like a fish a few times before finally composing herself enough before the delayed response got too awkward."He was." She answered acidly, though not towards Devlin, as she appeared to be looking down at the chicken nuggets with vegetables and savory sauces for dipping being served to her (yes, chickens do exist in Star Wars, just ask Wookiepedia). Her statement was in relation to his probing suggestion that it was someone with a grudge, and he certainly was. But how to tell Devlin the story without revealing anything about her Jedi "heritage"? Not that she was proud or embarrassed to be associated, but she figured the Jedi had put up with her nonsense long enough, no need to soil their reputation further by admitting to ever being a part of them even for the shortest time."I...was held responsible in his eyes for the death of...his...friend." She said, her voice hoarse and strained, as she came closer to the moment when Taelonn saved her life, at the cost of his own. "I...I wasn't much of a fighter." She brushed back the hair that she used to cover the left side of her face, and bared the hideous scar on her cheek. She used her right arm to do this, allowing Devlin to see the scar on the outside of that her. She no longer felt ashamed to show them. Instead, now she reminded herself that she deserved the brutal marks, and possibly more, for her failure. Thinking about this bitter moment reminded her why she never took treatment to remove the scars. "He wanted me to suffer, made me scream as he slowly burned my flesh..." she looked to the side past Devlin, for a moment, "...sometimes I wish he'd have just done me in. Maybe then...maybe..." She lowered her head, struggling to even say Taelonn's name. But why was it so hard? She owed him her life, and if not for him, she wouldn't be here. But of course, if he'd listened to her, she wouldn't be here. Because the Sith Warrior was finally about to kill her. But he'd be alive. Taelonn would have been alive, and that's the way it should have been."Taelonn..." she managed with a choke at the end of the name, "...h-he's my...brother. Tears finally fell, and she quickly brushed them away with unsteady fingers, looking like she'd poked herself in the eyes a few times. "A few years younger than me. And...he came to save me. It should have been the other way around, but he can be so, so stubborn. He fought when he should have run...and this guy - I don't even know his name...or the name of the friend I supposedly killed - he stabs my brother, with that stupid weapon of his." She sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to compose herself for Devlin's sake. "Taelonn got him good, though. Took his head right off. So...my brother's dead, and me, the silly girl, I live on. They remind me of what he did for me, and what I lost." She closed her eyes and stabbed at a nugget with her fork, cussing silently, and she looked apologetically at Devlin, "Gosh...I'm so sorry Mr...ah, I mean, Devlin. I didn't mean to turn into a wreck for you to see." She laughed with embarrassment, and quickly wiped away anymore tears. Thank goodness she didn't wear any makeup besides some light lipstick, or she'd have looked worse.She was about to try to turn the matter back to business, or query him in return about his company, and just why did they have 'No Questions Asked' packages being sent when she suddenly had a strange sensation come over her. Without realizing it, she'd been attuned to the Force once more, and she felt a sense of foreboding. Not for her, but for someone else, and she distractedly glanced around the room, searching for the source of that bad feeling. She landed on someone, but continued on her scan of the room in a distracted manner.
While doing so, her right hand, holding a fork, jerked involuntarily, and launched the utensil across the table. Apologizing instinctively and reaching out quickly to grasp the fork, Mirian caught Devlin's hand instead and she gasped audibly.
She saw a flash of something very disturbing when she touched him. In her mind, she saw skulls, crossbones, blood, and metal restraints. Then she saw a weapon, she couldn't be sure what kind, and a very unhappy Devlin kneeling amidst the skulls and bones, and looking forlornly at a severed hand, fresh blood dripping out from the severed edge. She gasped again and fell back against her chair, looking horrified and stunned. She'd had visions before, but nothing so strong like this, and it was a terrifying vision.
What was Devlin involved in?!?"S-sorry..." she stammered out, grasping the fork at last and shakily brought it back to her plate, but her hand trembled so badly, she dropped the fork, making it clatter on the plate."Sorry." She apologized again, her voice whisper-soft, and raised her left hand, pressing the fingers to the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes, trying to partially conceal her reaction and what she was still feeling after her Force Vision.
Finally, she choked out a nervous laugh, and looked worriedly at Devlin, "Boy, I sure am a lousy "business" date, aren't I?" |
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 13, 2014 9:00:19 GMT -8
Devlin's eyes grew dark as Mirian began to explain what had happened between her and her brother. It was a gruesome story. He could understand her feelings. He had been in a similar situation several years ago himself and how was he handling it? Doing largely Illegal work drinking his liver to death? Devlin took another drink of his brandy and continued listening. He finally spoke when Mirian began to apologize about being a wreck.
"You're not a wreck, and its completely understandable. I'm...sorry I asked..."
Devlin put his drink down and looked at Mirian in the eyes. He looked away, not exactly sure what to say to cheer her up. He was always bad at saying the right thing, even though it killed him to see her sad. He was about to try and improvise and hope something came to him when Mirian sent a fork flying right at his head. His instincts kicked in, and his right hand jerked out to try and catch the fork, but then he felt something, which stopped him. He looked over at Mirian, who was grasping his other hand. His face went red slightly and smirked. The smirk disappeared when the look of terror came to the younger woman's face, only for a moment. She didn't seem to be looking at him but past him. What was wrong? What was so terrifying? And like that the look of horror was gone, masked under embarrassment and apology.
Devlin instinctively took another long sip from his brandy, the instinct to seek alcohol in bad situations ingrained in him after a few decades of training. He swirled the glass around, the ice making a tinkering sound.
"What was it that upset you? Was it the food? We can send it back if its not good. They take preparing good food very seriously here, so it wouldn't be an insult."
Devlin found himself very uncomfortable all of a sudden. He knew it wasn't the food, but he was blabbering like an idiot. Then, out of the blue, Devlin had a moment of clarity when the right thing to say came to him, albeit a bit late. He needed to turn this situation around if he still wanted a little discount on his cigars. Though he wasn't sure if that was his only reason.
"Listen, Mirian, you have been nothing but a delight this evening. It's not often I get to go out with such a beautiful woman. Especially to this place. I'm lucky."
Devlin picked up his drink again and sipped it once more.
"You don't have to worry about your scars. I have plenty of my own. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Definitely nothing to hide. On my planet, a scar is a look into the past. You can see when you got it, what you did wrong, and learn from it, to become stronger. Better. The same goes for emotional scars, too.....Though sometimes they're not as easy to learn from...."
Devlin knocked back the rest of his first glass of brandy. Uncorking the bottle the droid had brought him, he poured himself another four fingers of brandy into his glass.
"I'm sorry I spilled out all of a sudden. It just came to me. Hopefully I didn't sound too pretentious."
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232 
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 14, 2014 1:35:06 GMT -8
The Man comes around.He came with charter, as the Banshees do. Business class. His appearance were human, white, old, wealthy. He was tall, thin with abnormally long fingers. He didnt smell. No cologne, no deodorant nor parphume, no sweat, nothing.
When sentients first started to use droids they created self-propelled tools, because thats what they were. Tools. A thing fit for a purpouse. This "man" was a tool. He was followed by a twilek, a tool of an other sort. She was purple, wore a scarf around her neck hiding a slaves collar, a nice business suit and was armed with a datapad and her shoes. She listened to the name 14. Cute, with a scar going through her face diagonally. Old wound of some kind.
So, the Man comes around, his assistant gets his luggage, and they both go to customs. When asked for a name, he gives it willingly.-Bateman- "Patrick Bateman, from Juvex." -Customs- "Reason for travel?" -Bateman- "Business, Always business." The Bateman Series HRD walked out of the spaceport and was greeted by a white shiny airspeeder. The driver was given a handsome tip and was asked to go home alone, as the assistant took the reins and drove Bateman from now on. Sitting in the closed off speeder, the old man opened his briefcase and looked over the files inside.-14- "Sir, where to next?" -Bateman- "There is a man. I have his name from the local office. Devlin Lynos. He frequents a bar not far from here. I am sending you the address." -14- "Recieved and flying." Bateman looked over the files on his datapad. Sure, Vanderhelm was a nice planet for economic expansion. The Shipwrights were perfect way to sped away with raw resources the SoroSuub could do away with. From that standpoint, it was a perfect way to get his foot in, but Bateman wanted more. Vanderhelm was a location that suited perfectly for a pirate hideout. Hard to navigate, sensors are practically useless, one could get lost easily.
The speeder slowed down and halted in front of the bar, in a handicap space. The drivers door opened and the lovely twilek in the business suit and high stilleto heels walked out and into the bar. One would think a girl like that walking into a bar like that would be a bad combination but this was a Banshee. Trained slave in intelligence operations among other things. She was also far from unarmed. The stiletto heels were actually small blades, ready for use, and she was well versed in hand to hand combat. The door opened and some people looked up, wondering what a girl like that is doing here. She walked over to the bar and leaned in for the bartender to hear her words, not caring if he-she was in a discussion or not.-14- "I am looking for a man named Devlin Lynos."
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Jun 14, 2014 3:26:17 GMT -8
Devlin's eyes grew dark as Mirian began to explain what had happened between her and her brother. It was a gruesome story. He could understand her feelings. He had been in a similar situation several years ago himself and how was he handling it? Doing largely illegal work drinking his liver to death. Devlin took another drink of his brandy and continued listening. He finally spoke when Mirian began to apologize about being a wreck."You're not a wreck, and its completely understandable. I'm...sorry I asked..." Devlin put his drink down and looked at Mirian in the eyes. He looked away, not exactly sure what to say to cheer her up. He was always bad at saying the right thing, even though it killed him to see her sad. He was about to try and improvise and hope something came to him when Mirian sent a fork flying right at his head. His instincts kicked in, and his right hand jerked out to try and catch the fork, but then he felt something, which stopped him. He looked over at Mirian, who was grasping his other hand. His face went red slightly and smirked. The smirk disappeared when the look of terror showed on the younger woman's face, for a moment. She didn't seem to be looking at him but past him. What was wrong? What was so terrifying? And like that the look of horror was gone, masked under embarrassment and apology.Devlin instinctively took another long sip from his brandy, the instinct to seek alcohol in bad situations ingrained in him after a few decades of training. He swirled the glass around, the ice making a tinkering sound."What was it that upset you? Was it the food? We can send it back if its not good. They take preparing good food very seriously here, so it wouldn't be an insult." Devlin found himself very uncomfortable all of a sudden. He knew it wasn't the food, but he was blabbering like an idiot. Then, out of the blue, Devlin had a moment of clarity when the right thing to say came to him, albeit a bit late. He needed to turn this situation around if he still wanted a little discount on his cigars. Though he wasn't sure if that was his only reason."Listen, Mirian, you have been nothing but a delight this evening. It's not often I get to go out with such a beautiful woman. Especially to this place. I'm lucky." Devlin picked up his drink again and sipped it once more."You don't have to worry about your scars. I have plenty of my own. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Definitely nothing to hide. On my planet, a scar is a look into the past. You can see when you got it, what you did wrong, and learn from it, to become stronger. Better. The same goes for emotional scars, too.....Though sometimes they're not as easy to learn from...." Devlin knocked back the rest of his first glass of brandy. Uncorking the bottle the droid had brought him, he poured himself another four fingers of brandy into his glass."I'm sorry I spilled out all of a sudden. It just came to me. Hopefully I didn't sound too pretentious." "Funny," Mirian said softly, "I share the same views on scars. It's why I kept mine, and didn't take Bacta treatment. And yet, I still get embarrassed when people see them." She rolled her eyes and laughed softly, sighing at the end, "I don't think you're pretentious. And I'm grateful for the dinner, too. So, really, I owe you..." Her words were cut off as she appeared distracted, and she glanced around her, then looked upwards at the ceiling, before glancing back at Devlin with a frown.
Oh crud...
It just hit Mirian then, that this whole time, she was drawing on the Force. Her eyes widened in horror.
Bad things happen when you use the Force. Bad things happen when you use the Force... she silently reminded herself and counted to ten. Things were going well enough, all things considered. Despite her very emotional moment, Devlin continued to be the gentleman, and did everything he could to make her feel better. She'd blushed lightly when he called her 'beautiful' and 'lucky' to be able to be in her company. It was beyond her how he could consider her beautiful. She had hurriedly assured him it was fine and not to apologize when he did so for asking about her scars. She also had to resist laughing at his concern that her reaction to her Force Vision was stemmed from bad food. In fact, the food was wonderful. Then again, having such simple tastes, Mirian was easily pleased.
In any case, when she spoke to him about his revelation about scars, something else had hit her, after which she'd started trying to suppress using the Force, but it was too late. Her sense of foreboding just increased, and she couldn't help but allow it to continue to warn her, because it didn't seem to be a warning for her, but for the man before her. She pursed her lips and looked him over wonderingly. Danger and trouble seemed to be gravitating towards him in waves. She could see it on him like an aura of black and red, and malevolent purple. It was that potent, but there was a silvery light hovering over his head too, like a promise of salvation of some sort. She couldn't really make sense of it. It had been some time since she'd used the Force as extenssively as this, and she couldn't begin to imagine just how much bad mojo she was building up for this. But she had been using the Force often enough to know, that inevitably, disaster would follow in her wake.
On the other hand, maybe the bad mojo coming for Devlin was a result of hanging around her too much? After all, her master had suffered a similar plight, and was always on the receiving end of bad things, making him the laughing stock of all Corellia. But her master usually survived relatively intact physically save for his pride. For Devlin, she sensed physical danger. Granted, he was in a line of work where physical danger was practically in the resumé.
She felt a two-pronged sensation. From what she could tell, there was probably more than one person coming for Devlin right now. In fact, one of them was headed over, practically like a beeline. Her head whipped around one more time, trying to see if she could spot the danger. Then she nervously looked back at Devlin. She had to tell him.
To heck with hiding the truth from him!
Or...alternatively, just try to get him out before it hits him in the face."Uhm...listen Devlin, but would you like to..." |
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Post by Simon Monroe on Jun 14, 2014 7:39:01 GMT -8
Moments ago...
"Devlin Lyons."
The receptionist droid looked at Monroe in as quizzical a manner as it was possible for a droid to look. Being a droid, it did not have to consult its ledger to know that Devlin had already checked in and was currently enjoying the porterhouse nerf steak with his guest.
"I'm sorry, but the Lyon's party of two has already been checked in and seated. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to name another reservation or vacate the premises."
Monroe pulled his badge out of his jacket, which he was wearing once again despite the hole in it, and nearly shoved it in the droid's face.
"Where is he."
It was a command, more than a question, and the droid backpedaled a bit as its behavioral programming told it how aggressive the action was, especially combined with the verbal tone of the command.
"Table thirteen, that way."
The droid pointed, and Monroe replaced his badge in his coat and headed off in the direction indicated, scanning the patrons for the man he sought.
Presently...
It wasn't hard to find him, the restaurant being as empty as it was, and he caught the tail end of a conversation as he approached from behind Devlin. Bad move, leaving the entrance at your back. He must be distracted tonight. Though given his company, Monroe could understand why. She was young, but pretty in spite of the scars that marked her face and arm, and Monroe cut her off mid-sentence as he came to a stop behind Lyons.
"...put your hands behind your head and stand up slowly?"
His right hand hovered near the grip of the pistol on his right thigh, knowing all too well how often men like this would decide resistance was better than compliance, no matter the odds. He got the impression from Devlin, however, that he was smarter than that, and for the sake of the girl he hoped he was right.
"Sorry for interrupting..." He really wasn't. "...But you're under arrest for the murder of Phin Shenlo."
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 14, 2014 9:49:13 GMT -8
-14- "I am looking for a man named Devlin Lynos." -Bartender- "Lynos, eh? Ain't never heard of him." The bartender spit into the glass and rubbed it around with the rag in his other hand before continuing.-Bartender- "I do know a Devlin Lyons, though. Regular of mine. What's he gone and done to draw the attention of a suit like you?" Meanwhile, back at the plot.Devlin was watching Mirian intently as she seemed to become paranoid, glancing around, her eyes widening with the same looks as before. What was wrong? Was it him? Just as she spoke she was interrupted, by a familiar voice. Devlin turned in his seat and frowned when he saw Commander Monroe behind him. He smirked."Detective....What a pleasure to see you here. Please have a seat, share some brandy." Devlin's eyes widened up when he was told he was truly under arrest, and Monroe put his hand near his gun. Devlin stammered."Y-y-you must be mistaken, Commander. I thought we had already cleared this up?" Seeing Monroe's expression unchanged, in fact he looked even more serious, Devlin turned his head back to Mirian and his face grew red with embarrassment."Looks like work caught up with me. Sorry about ruining dinner, Mirian. I had a wonderful time." Devlin stood up slowly, taking off his holsters with his Dissuader KD-30 on it, and then unclipped his lightfoil from his belt, lying them flat on the table. Moving more slowly to let Monroe know he was not making a move, he reached into his iner jacket pocket and pulled out a credit chit, laying it on the table. He glanced back at Mirian."That should cover dinner. Have then wrap up my steak, and the brandy. I should be out in a few hours, at most." Devlin then put his military dress hat on his head inside a building, which was completely against regulations. He just didn't want to lose it. After putting on the hat he slowly turned around and put his hands behind his back."You better have solid evidence to tear me away from such a lovely night, Monroe. Consider that threatening an officer." |
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 14, 2014 10:02:19 GMT -8
The bartender grunted and turned to look at the Twi'lek, raising an eyebrow. She looked important. A bit too important to be here just for fun and drinks. Must be someone from the Corporation that Devlin enforced for. He shrugged and feigned ignorance as he went back to cleaning a clean glass with a dirty rag.-Bartender- "Lynos, eh? Ain't never heard of him." The bartender spit into the glass and rubbed it around with the rag in his other hand before continuing.-Bartender- "I do know a Devlin Lyons, though. Regular of mine. What's he gone and done to draw the attention of a suit like you?" -14- "He dropped his wallet. I found his ID cards and this." The twilek put two 50 credit chips on the counter. She didnt seem like the chatty type. Cold voice, no tone. Just words coming out of her mouth without soul behind them. Some may take that as sad or sorrowfull, but on this twilek, with that nasty scar on her face, she looked thretening.-14- "I am sure he wouldnt mind you holding onto these while we find him and give him back his documents. I am sure he would consider it a finders fee." |
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 14, 2014 10:30:24 GMT -8
The bartender raised another eyebrow at the credits the Twi'lek put on his bar. He figured it was worth it, even though he knew the story was a complete lie. He pocketed the credit chips, and shrugged.
-Bartender-
"All I know is that he came here after work, as usual, and started knocking back drinks like a guy who'd been in the desert for a month."
The bartender put his hand on his chin and rubbed the gruff on it as he thought.
-Bartender-
"Now, he did meet up with some lady. He drew a gun on her, thought she was work following him home. After that they both left. She did say she had some cigars for him though. He smokes the Shento ones, exclusively. He must have...uh...dropped his wallet when paying her."
The bartender crossed and chuckled.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 14, 2014 10:52:42 GMT -8
-14-
"Any idea where they went? Did they look like they are going to a... hotel?"
Since giving the credits, she had not moved other then her mouth. The woman was like stone, clad in business fascion. Not even the Lekkus moved, witch was wierd for a Twilek, and even other races could maybe catch up on that. This is how Bateman liked his Banshees. Emotionless and cold. His only problem was that his kind of Banshees were few and far between. Most of them were rather passionate, something the HRD couldnt understand.
-14-
"He must feel dumb right now without ID and keys."
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 14, 2014 12:02:41 GMT -8
The bartender shrugged, he'd already told the Twi'lek everything he knew about the particular moment in question.
-Bartender-
"He has an apartment up some fancy skyscraper in the city. I had to drive him home once. Few too many drinks. That man was drinking almost twelve hours straight before he finally started showing it. Couldn't just let him wander off by himself."
The Bartender took out a small napkin and wrote down Devlin's address on it, handing it out to the Twi'lek woman.
-Bartender-
"There ya go. That should help you find him. When you see him, tell him its lady's night tonight. He hates to miss it."
The Bartender smirked.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 14, 2014 12:36:38 GMT -8
-14-
"I surely will. Thank you."
The twilek took the address, left, got into the car and knocked on the shades dividing the luxurious rental cars inside. Bateman pulled it down and waited for her report.
-14-
"He walked off with a woman, at gunpoint at first, then I guess... not. The bartender said something about paying her, and that she had cigars for him. Shinto I think the brand was. He drinks a lot and seems to be a ladies man. Sir, may I speak my mind, sir?"
-Bateman-
"Go on 14, you know I value field operatives."
-14-
"Sir, by what I heard he seems to play it fast and loose. Pulls a gun on a working girl, and he walks off with her. He has alcohol problems, an expensive penthouse, and getting his address was easy. A risky asset, Sir. I could lead the Vandelhelm operation myself, and minimise the risks."
-Bateman-
"Yes, but I cant let you girls do all the work, now can I? We need... fall guys. He is perfect. Drinking, expensive living, propably military background. A dirty mercenary. You girls are amazing, and I am sure you would deal with this world well, but if your existence gets too far out in the common mans thoughts, you become a risky asset too. And then what do I tell the mistress? I let her slaves get the better of me? I would be a poor handler.
Get me a portable scanner and then drive us to his apartment. We will see what can be done."
The slave drove the HRD to a local hardware store and bought a portable scanner, then drove off to the apartment. She put the scanner into a handbag and then walked off to the skyscraper, to see if she can get in. This time she emphasised her womanly talents. She opened up a couple buttons here and there, put on some make-up. The target, Mr Lyons was a ladies-man, as the bartender could have put it. To get into his apartment, she would have to need to get through some sort of receptionist/guard.
She walked in calmly, she put some nervosity into her body language. Her aim was to look like a closed up business woman who just found a boy-toy whom she tried to surprise. That was more of a likely story then anything else she could come up with.
-14-
"Hi... hello. I am Luta Rysh. I came to see mr Devlin Lyons."
She didnt act seductively for the receptionists. A girl coming here with a hot present for her boy toy on the penthouse level wouldnt flirt with guards, but a chick out of their league being friendly they might even hear her sob-story out and help. Be knights in shiny armour in helping true love.
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 14, 2014 12:53:07 GMT -8
The receptionist looked up from her workstation and raised an eyebrow to the Twi'lek woman. She looked back down and pulled up something on the computer at her desk. She did not look back up when she spoke again.
-Receptionist-
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Lyons is not in currently. I can give him a message when he returns, if you'd like."
The receptionist seemed to add a bit of attitude to those last three words, as if she had better things to do than help yet another woman try and reach Mr. Lyons. It was always women, too. The way she thought about it there were two options. Either he was really good, or what he did was really bad and whoever he screwed over most recently sent a pretty face to try and persuade him their way.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 14, 2014 13:37:41 GMT -8
14 had to think fast. She kinda counted with males as guards, no self respecting woman would take a mundane job like this. The reception of the receptionist wasnt too friendly neither. She decided to try and go with her first idea, see how it would work out.
-14-
"Look... I really need a big favor. I just want to go up and suprise my boyfriend. THat is all. I got all dressed up, came out here to give a little wrapped present to my boy, and then bam. I realise I forgot my comm at home. Come on sis, cant you help a girl out? I am sure Devie would tip you the way back down!"
She tried to see what she reacted on her mention of tip, because if this didnt work, bribery would be next. This time, there was a lot more emotion in the slave named 14. She was like a different person then the one in the bar half a hour ago. She was passionate, frustrated, pleading. A Demsel in Distress. Only problem is, her knight probably also had tampons in her handbag. This method is significantly reduced in success rates in comparison to male subjects.
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 14, 2014 13:51:38 GMT -8
The receptionist had gone back to work, expecting the Twi'lek to leave and go back to where ever she came from. When she did not, the receptionist sighed and looked up from her computer once more. Her voice showed how annoyed she was.
-Receptionist-
"Ma'am, we have strict rules in place about guests going up to one of our resident's rooms without them going there. Mr. Lyons pays good money for us to keep people like you out of his personal business, due to the nature of his job. If you are not on his contacts list, you are not allowed up there without him. Do you know how many people I turn away on a daily basis? Too many. Now please leave before I have to ask security to make you leave."
The woman moved her right hand under the desk to a button that would call security in the blink of the eye.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 14, 2014 14:00:05 GMT -8
A scene. Make one or not. Security. Security had access. Security had keycards. Security was a way in. Good. That would work too.
Suddenly the twilek changed posture. She pulled herself strait, busom standing out proudly, face cold and calculating. When she spoke, her cheeks resonated with the distaste she wanted to project at the woman behind the desk.
-14-
"Look you little insect, I eat three girls like you for breakfast and keep one to crack for my tea so get me inside or I will have your job you... Whatever you name is. Get snappy and call down an elovator or you wont have to come to work tomorrow. Snappy, its spelled ES EN A PEE PEE and a WHY on the end, if you didnt know."
With that, she was ready. Lets see if slight of hand classes in the Crucible were any good.
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 14, 2014 15:40:38 GMT -8
The receptionist arched an eyebrow and pushed the button. Almost immediately three very tall, very musclar humanoids walked out from a door beside the desk and crossed their arms. The middle one spoke while the other two went on either side of Fourteen.
-Security Guard-
"Ma'am, no one likes a scene, come with us."
Without hesitation the other two guards grabbed the Twi'lek on either arm and began dragging her out the front door, tossing her out, and standing at the door to keep her from coming back in. The guard that had spoken before walked out through the door and spoke again.
-Security Guard-
"Don't let us catch you here again unless you have permission, got it? Next time we won't be so nice."
The other two guards stayed by the door while the third went back to his post in the security room.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 14, 2014 16:05:04 GMT -8
The aim with slight of hand is usually not to be very dexterious, but the same as with magic and war. Distraction. While the elitist bimbo being thrown out of a building starts to flip out histerically, acts as if she knows buckwhat of any hand to hand combat, waving around with her legs and lekkus as much as she can...
-14-
"YOU ARE FIRED! YOU ARE ALL FIRED TOMORROW YOU SONS OF BI.... YOU TOUCHED ME! YOU TOUCHED ME! ABUSE! RAPE! RAPE! HELP! THEY ARE KIDNAPPING ME!"
...They might consider one skillfull kick as a stroke of luck as she tries to trip one of her opponents. Kick to the foot that is just relocating in the ever on-going game of left-right left-right. If she succeeds, she will try to attack him by scratching and slapping and most importantly, grabbing. In all the comotion, she will try to steal the keycard the guard has. Slaps and scratches are for trying to find it, grabs and punches are for taking it. She knows she has to be fast, so she starts with chest (inner pocket) sides (pant pockets and belt) then she will try to grab it if she finds it. If not...
Well... she will have to succeed. She is a slave. That is her job. She has to make the Mistress proud of her Banshees.
Her first strike hit home. Flat, hard, propably laminated under the security uniform-suit. Must be a Key card. Just before the other two grabbed her from behind and threw her off she manadged to scream the guards head off with a shrill screetch and slide one quick hand inside his suit.
Bateman? He was clamly sitting in the car and watched as it all unfolded. The Banshees were as much a prototype series meat bags as he himself was a high tech prototype droid series. And god damnit, he wanted the banshees to fail fair and objective testing. You know... just to make his own programming so much more valuable. Bateman didnt know it at the time, but he was experiencing pride, jelousy and one of the most important sentient feelings. The happiness of witnessing others suffering and hardships.
He watched 14 walk back with her shoes and handbag in her hand, a suit ripped on several points, a half torn off arm and dirty from the lawn. She opened the drivers door just as if she would be dressed ready for a ball and sat down inside. She was silent for a moment as the dividing screen slid down, and then simply reached the card back to Bateman who took it. Then took the scanner. Bateman smirked to show his displeasure at the Banshees success and took both items.
-Bateman-
"Get me around, I think I saw an employees entrence."
-14-
"Wont it be protected by a camera?"
-Bateman-
"Of course it will, I would be disapointed if it didnt. That is why you will drop me off and then come back here and make one more scene. Your kind likes scenes."
The twilek slave didnt frown, she didnt smirk. She just...
-14-
"Yes, Mr Bateman."
... was a very very good slave.
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Post by Devlin Lyons on Jun 14, 2014 20:48:59 GMT -8
After a good amount of time had passed the Guards went back to their stations. The head guard looked over at the belt of one of his colleagues and frowned.
-Head Guard-
"What happened to your badge, Jenkins?"
The guard named Jenkins looked at his belt and shrugged.
-Jenkins-
"Dunno, boss. 'Prolly lost it."
The Head guard shook his head disappointingly.
-Head Guard-
"It's coming out of your pay, Jenkins. Take better care of your gear."
Jenkins cursed and began looking for his security badge so he wouldn't have to pay for a new one.
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