Dominion Gangsters' Paradise | CIS Dominion of Korbin Hex

[Aria Nox]

Glass slowly crunched under her boot as the armored woman stepped within the confines of an establishment being torn apart further in. Chaos that had perhaps unexpected ramifications toward the front. Perhaps someone was in a hurry to escape, or to find a medic. Maybe they knocked something open, or a stay bolt set gas alight. Maybe someone else was in here looking to capitalize on another's hard work. With all those possibilities, the Mandalorian's pistol was out and ready to cut down anyone that popped out of the shadows unappreciative of a new arrival.

Once Aria made it through the front room, the debris disappeared and her boots could carry her quietly into the dark recesses of the place. Who was here, and what did they want? Didn't much matter if this was a bad idea for your common citizen -- Aria knew how to handle herself in combat. Let someone try to cut her down.

A minute later, the armored figure stopped outside of a chamber having followed the bodies, scorch marks, and screams. Slowly Aria's helmet rolled out enough to peer into the room, with the pistol held close to her chest ready to cut someone down if they were too close for comfort.

Tag: Maple Harte

 

[Eternal Rapture]

​

Static crept into the sensor readings the further out they went. The closer they got, the further the galaxy faded away. Amidst the noise there was nothing but background radiation; no ship that had vanished, no anomaly swirling in space. Then it happened. As sudden as a ship vanished, another ship appeared.

Most ships had alarms when another vessel strayed too close. Proximity alarms to avoid one or both vessels experiencing an explosive decompression from a negligent collision. If Ares' ship had these, the would be screaming in that moment.

A review of the sensors might show signs of something happening in space, but the appearance of the battered ruins of a Star Destroyer directly in their flight path and filling every forward viewport was more captivating in the moment. Few exterior lights could be seen; and the bright glow aft of the vessel was likewise extinguished.

Tag: Ares Stone | Meili Feng

 

[Redd]

EXPLOSION​

Tags: Haastal Haran​

”It smells revolting. Some smells can make any lupine wish that they couldn’t smell. This smell however, I’m actually rather used to. Even though I wish that I wasn’t.” Redd grumbled as she remembered her time in the rings fighting while she could also remember the distinct smell of alcohol and all sorts of other things. She wasn’t at all surprised that they had to pay to get company, because if they had cleaned up a little and not just their appearance, then maybe they could find their mates. Until then, these pirates were basically living like disgusting rats that nobody even wanted. She wanted to feel sad for them, but she couldn’t find it within her to feel anything but disgust. With a shake of her head, she continued to listen to her mate and was not at all set at ease when he mentioned that the elevator wasn’t at all safe. However, if it was the only way in, then it was the only way in.

When they stepped out and saw the sleeping pirate, a brow perked as she too moved to remove her buy’ce from her head and smelled the blood that Haastal just spilled. ”Well, considering how they currently live, I’m not at all surprised that they are the worst.” The wolf commented as her mate threw her the bottle and she sniffed it, only to bring it up to her lips to take a drink. ”Ugh, I think I prefer the mead over this feral stuff.” She said as she placed the bottle down upon the ground and slid her buy’ce back over her red locks. ”Bad taste in lifestyle and occupation. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if they had managed to piss off everyone else in Korbin at this rate. Why they live like this, I have no idea.” Redd noted as golden eyes took note of the scattered bottles everywhere and she occasionally stepped to the side to avoid an empty bottle or two. ”If they don’t break their own necks from their own stupidity, I’d be very surprised.”

She heard the celebration from a fair distance away and she looked to her mate as he brought his blaster pistol up to a ready while they made their way down the corridor. Except they soon found themselves in front of double doors and as they looked into the hanger she found herself mildly disgusted, but not at all surprised. Especially considering the hall that they had just traversed down. That was before he had tossed her a thermal detonator and she used her free hand to catch it in midair. Slowly, she tucked the dagger away in a sheath upon her belt as she turned the detonator in her hands and listened to her mate’s explanation. A high-yield detonator? The wolf questioned as it didn’t appear to be much, but she shrugged. Well. If she was going to learn as to what it did, she supposed it was best to do as the man said.

Just as her fingers hovered over the red pad, live fire began to sound off and ping off of nearby walls. Redd took cover behind the door frame and she looked to view her mate. Gun fire at a party? They were not the only one there? It had taken her by surprise, but she couldn’t stop doing what they had currently already planned for those who were taking cover from the gunfire on the opposite side of the hanger. She pulled the red pad back to prime the detonator and gave it a second while she gathered the courage necessary to throw. Her thumb pressed the red button and she threw the thermal detonator into the throng of panicking drunk pirates, only to duck back behind the door frame.

Her hands lifted to cover her ears just as the explosion in the room made more of the men scream and wide eyes glanced over towards Haastal. They were not wide with fear, but wide with excitement and the thrill of the battle. Redd had gotten to make another explosion and not by throwing a gun, but a detonator! It was all exciting to the red wolf and she wanted more of the action. ”We should do that again! But I wonder who else is attacking the pirates?” She questioned her mate as she peaked around to watch a man who had lost an arm in the explosion, scream in pain as he staggered around the hanger only to take a bullet from the unknown party.​

​

 

[Haastal Haran]

FIGHT​

Tags: @Redd ​

It must have been take out the pirates day. Not long after Haastal passed the thermal detonator over to his mate, the sound of blaster fire echoed out from the chamber in front of them. Haastal's HUD flashed excitedly at the detection of multiple life-form's bio readings suddenly plummeting. Haastal smirked, glancing over at Redd as she lobbed the detonator into the hangar. Haastal knelt away from the bay entrance, waiting a single second before a massive repulse echoed out.

When Haastal's eyes glanced over his HUD, he could see more of the targeted lifeforms had fallen dead in the explosion. The Mandalorian looked back to the chamber door's and let out a brief laugh at Redd's words. "Damn right. Hell if I know. Let's get outta here." He told her. Rather than enter into the chamber, Haastal looked at the control panel in front of him for a moment. He wrapped a hand around it, tapping into the device before cursing. "Piece of junk..." He muttered. It was not long before the bay door's leading to the hangar slowly came to a close. After the door's were shut and the fighting was sealed behind the large metallic blast door's Haastal leaned forward, slamming his elbow into the console. The panel broke away from the wall and Haastal quickly stepped back, aiming his blaster pistol at the exposed wiring.

Two crimson rounds flew from his pistol, slamming into the wall and destroying the circuitry to the door. "Come on, lets go find our chit." He said, before holstering his blaster and walking down a bend in the hall. "Whoever they were they're probably not here to help us. If they do find the stuff the pirates stole from us then they may decide to take it for themselves."

They moved down the hall a bit more and soon found themselves staring at another lift, however this one seemed to be a bit better kept than the one they entered through. "Well, lets see where this takes us." Haastal said, before holding a hand out for Redd to enter the lift. ​

​

​

 

[Eternal Rapture]

Scoro Boss Zadeer Rho slowly moved through the bay not paying any of the corpses any mind. "Who were they?"

"No positive identification. Appeared to be two of them; one male, one female," Nima replied as they stepped over the lifeless husks.

Two unknowns that tossed an explosive in on the party. Someone that didn't like these scum. Could be an opportunity, or a problem. Rho always believed problems were best dealt with quickly before they became headaches. "When the men are done making sure they're all dead, I want them on the look out for those two." Which meant mostly the woman they caught a glimpse of when she tossed the detonator. One way or the other, this needed to be wrapped up by the time the diplomats showed up; one less distracted to interfere in solidifying a business relationship.

"Right away. And the cargo?"

The spoils the trash here managed to secure? Zadeer regarded it for a moment. "Load into our ship. Inventory and process." Maybe some of it would prove useful in getting their galactic neighbors to stop trying to run their defensive line. Or, perhaps, they'd just sell it themselves and get the credits from the trash's "hard" work. He'd have to see what his mood was after meeting with the Confederacy's representatives.

The broad shouldered man turned and began to make his way back toward the ship. Nothing was left in the bay to interest him.

Meanwhile his Lieutenant, Nima, split the men into two groups -- those that loaded, and those that went looking for the witnesses. "Inform them they have a meeting with the Boss. If they shoot, shoot back, but we're not looking for you to get ambitious thinking dead guests are the best." They weren't afraid to defend themselves, but if they were an opportunity there was no point squandering it.

Tag: Redd | Haastal Haran | Siv Dragr

 

[Ar'tal Ktruok]

Ar'tal had just finished bartering for a PV-16 Pulse Pistol when he heard an explosion a few stores down. "Well, I hope I won't need to use this thing yet." He saw a Mandalorian standing in front of the club. 'Why do I even bother' Ar'tal muttered as he signaled for Zed to find the quickest route to their freighter. "We'll have to finish shopping later." The HK droid whirred as it calculated. "I am sorry sir. The shortest route is the way we have came." BLAWM! BLAWM! Two dead thugs later, Ar'tal signaled for Zed to hang back as he watched the Mandalorian walk inside the building as he quietly followed behind pistol ready.

 

[Aria Nox]

Aria slowly rolled back into place beside the door until her visor peered out into the dark stillness that'd fallen over the establishment. Distance sirens of firefighting vehicles were faintly heard. Standard for the city. No on expected The Law to show up. Thugs belonging to the owner of the establishment maybe, but no objective, third-party entity with your best interests in mind. So, not a problem.

After a moment the armored figured slid back into the darkness. Sensors suggested there might be someone or something else back the way she'd come. Nasty business being caught between two unknown quantities -- one of which already known to be aggressive.

Slowly the Mandalorian slid down an adjacent hallway and put her back against the wall. She could see the doorway throughout which shouts had gone silent, and had her pistol up ready for whomever sought to follow. Might be a bystander. Maybe. Could be one of those thugs that might mistaken the Mandalorian as the troublemaker too. They'd never buy the good Samaritan excuse for being inside the building without signs of being in the mess -- though if they stopped to think about it, probably meant she hadn't been its cause either.

She'd try to catch the third party as they began to pass the corner. Best to catch them at gun point and find out they were friendly than make an assumption that'd get her killed. At least she wouldn't shoot Ar'tal Ktruok on sight though, so that was nice of her.

 

[Avadna Tekoa]

​

"Boss ain't in."

The cigarra between Avadna Tekoa's lips rolled from one side of the mouth to the other at the news. "Let me guess: Urgent Business?" The orange and white Togruta green eyes stared at the bulky man that loomed between her and the Boss' office. She wasn't oblivious to the fact the man's bulk wasn't mere blubber. He held himself quite well and could probably snap a solid wood desk in two with both hands.

"Ain't said nothin' to me. Have a seat." After his brusque tone, the big fella gave her a hearty grin Avadna supposed was meant to be inviting. A for effort. D- for effectiveness.

After a draw on the cigarra, a plume of smoke was cast off to one side. "Suppose that means you can't pick up a commlink and ask the Man in Charge when he'll reckon to be home?" To some people she was polite and philosophical. To others, like these fine folk, Avadna was happy as a clam to dispense with all pretexts. They were criminals -- possibly interested in straightening out 'enough' -- and she represented the Big Bad Government there to screw with things that had 'worked just fine for generations before you showed up.' All that to mean they'd give her the time of day when it suited them, and Avadna was free to call in whatever Star Destroyers she wanted. Maybe they knew the Confederacy wouldn't, however, without cause. No strong arming the negotiations in their favor. Always a kicked when people figured out your shtick, and were smart enough to do it in the first place. Probably why the city wasn't on fire right now. Most of it wasn't, anyway.

"Have a seat," one head-sized hand gesture to her right toward some accommodating leather chairs, "please," the man reiterated as he leaned forward slightly unbothered by any smoke that wafted his direction.

"Uh huh." That'd be a 'no.' As she plucked the cigarra from her lips, she gave an ash tray a passing tap on her way to those inviting chairs. It was going to be one of those diplomatic engagements.

 

[Ar'tal Ktruok]

“Relax, I don’t mean any harm.“ Ar’tal eyed the Mandalorian up and down. “Mind telling me why you went in here?“ ( Aria Nox )

 

[Ares Stone]

wearing: xxx | tag: Meili Feng - open
​

"Well then how the hell do you explain that," the soldier said as he pointed at the ship which appeared out of nowhere right in front of them. "Trust me kid... you stick around the galaxy as long as I have and you're bound to see things which defy all logic and the laws of science they tried teaching you in school."

Granted Ares did not know Mei did not go to the kind of school he did as a child, or have anything near the childhood he had. Her file was sparse and not much was known about the world she came from. All Ares knew was that she was his partner for the mission, and it seemed the others they were supposed to meet were not going to be arriving.

That was unfortunate.

A single finger tapped the control yoke of the ship as Ares took on a contemplative view. Everything in his gut was telling him they needed to make a fast 180 and fly off in the direction they had come. If Ares was smart, he would listen to his gut. Sadly for his companion the curiosity of just what was going on in front of them was getting the better of him.

"I think we should board it," he said moving the ship closer.

There was going to be no time to protest, because the man had already made up his mind Ares was moving ahead whether his partner wanted him to or not. This was their best chance at figuring it out. There was really only one other thing to do.

Pressing the keypad to access his personal log, Ares began to record.

"In case anyone finds this ship empty, well we boarded a ghost ship that just appeared out of nowhere. Something is definitely happening. If you're listening to this... don't be the idiot I was... turn around and get out of here."

Ares grinned and looked to Mei

"There... that oughta do it. You ready?

 

[Aria Nox]

Relax? Whoever this was hadn't met many Mandalorians. Even Sith indulged in relaxing in spas and saunas. How many Mandalorians had you seen 'taking it easy?' Perhaps the Echani were a contender for Most Serious species in the galaxy. A few others, but Aria hadn't bothered to take a poll.

"Place exploded."

It had. She wasn't wrong, nor was she leaving any details out.

"Something caused it, thought I'd check it out. Seen some blood and bodies here or there not part of the explosion. Someone's been having fun." Hadn't heard anything since she entered the place though. Perhaps the party-goer had already left. Shame if so; they might have been a fun dance partner for a song or two.

"So," Aria hadn't looked away from him, nor lowered her weapon yet, "why are you here?"

Tag: Ar'tal Ktruok | Maple Harte

 

[Hinah Dragr]

Objective: [Number 1]
Tags: | Siv Dragr |

-----------------------

Why in all of the worlds did she keep getting talked into these sorts of things? Dangerous things, things that could possible get not just her, but others killed too? Not that Hinah really had any sorts of objections to such things, a little challenge meant a good time, right? But it was still fairly crazy to agree to those sorts of outings, especially when she was still in protective, albeit standard armor for protection. She had a new blaster, though it hadn't come from the Forge and her secondary was still rough around the edges. It still fired straight and that's what mattered, right?

A deep, body deflating sigh was breathed in and out through Hinah's nose, but her gaze shifted to Siv once he had spoken up to her. Was she ready for this? "Of course I am," she let out to him in reply as she got to her feet. "I mean, it's just beating down some crimelords, right? Nothing fancy about it."

Or at least, that's how it should have been. The metallic groan of gears grinding to pull mechanisms far too old or heavy sounded, and that immediately put Hinah on edge. It didn't take long to find the source of the noise, and less time still for raining death started to litter the area. "Oh come on!" she complained aloud, though was quick to find a place to duck for cover. "Why is it that you boys can never take me any place nice?!"

She kept herself hunkered down, and was fairly certain there was an explosion somewhere too close for comfort. A fact which made her begin to pat herself down with a frown and furrowed brow. Nope, she had all of her charges and wires - not that she wasn't aware that someone else could have explosives of course, it was just habit to check that she hadn't lost something along the way. "We've been here all of five minutes, and already this is a shitshow."

And something told Hinah that this was only the start of a variety of ridiculous things they would encounter during their time here.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Club Dread
Tag: Darth Metus

Lights flared from every surface of while bass drops hit the floor so hard that she felt it sing in her bones. Anyone that knew her well would find the scene that played out rather disturbing. The typically austere Echani Exarch of the Confederacy was usually dressed for two things. War or Work. She had no sense of fun. There was no part of her that would willingly turn to a rave for entertainment purposes. Those who were skeptical and decided to call her bluff would have won—She was not present as a patron.

For those who didn’t know her?

She fit right in.

Long white hair was tied up tightly in a ponytail that sat at the crown of her head. She wore silver bangles and large earrings that were against everything she believed in. Who could stand hoops this large pinned to their earlobes? Who could fight with the possibility of the opponent giving it a good hard yank and pulling it free? A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. Her form was also wrapped in something that she wouldn’t normally choose. A midriff-bearing crop top and a matching skirt that were just as tight as they were reflective.

The typically quiet woman would never believe that she wore it well.

The high-heeled boots were the worst.

Silver eyes seemed sharper than usual. Outlined in dark kohl with feathery sweep of metallic shadow it seemed to give her an edge. It played her features with such fierceness that her typical severity was amplified tenfold. She presented as a sassy, untouchable, club-goer. Srina skillfully wove away from anyone that decided to get too close. In contrast to some of the other dancers that seemed to be all over their partners her movements seemed entirely contained to her own space.

Her focus changed through stepping and turning, dancing sinuously with someone who wasn’t there, while keeping the distinctive, light, pulse-like bounce. Her arms moved up over her head in a sinewy and flowing manner with subtle, almost imperceptible, isolated movements that played to someone swaying and enjoying her time as if no one could see. It was beautiful beneath the lights. A blur of color that was a pure reflection. A glittering hologram—What everyone wanted to hold in their hands but could never, ever, have.

The small comm in her ear went off and she listened to the voice on the other side. This club was too clean. It was too bright—Too shiny. The organic staff seemed to be more robotic than than actual droids serving drinks. For something that seemed to be a business that was designed for good, sparkling fun, there was layer of something false beneath it all. Something unknown.

Something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She’d felt it the moment they’d walked in the door. Despair.

“They’re here, Master.”

She murmured into the hidden receiver. Her voice was soft as silk and no one around her seemed to be the wiser. Who? The owner and proprietor of this monstrosity. The one they would see begging for his life before the night was through. She could feel eyes on her while she moved in time with the beat. That was the point. She was vaguely appealing and seemingly alone. Vulnerable.

Or at least—It was what she intended for them to think.

 

[Darth Metus]

CLUB DREAD​

Tag: Srina Talon

Officially.

The Vicelord of the Confederacy was located on Naboo. Following the movement of the Capital to the stunning locale, it was only fitting that he oversee the establishment of a proper Confederate centre. If anyone asked, he was within the confines of his office. If anyone checked, they would see recent recordings of his presence wandering the halls, chatting about with his apprentice whilst motioning towards a datapad. This, of course, was a falsehood. Decoys. Holograms. Mirages.

The theme of the evening had been set in stone.

Whilst the doppelgangers left at home set about their duties, Darth Metus and his alabaster apprentice sauntered into the nightlife. They were hardly a reflection of their professional personas, for striding into a rave meant the shedding of comforts. Gone were the suits and ties. Hell, gone were the hooded robes or beskar'gam. In the case of the Sith, his attire was something he would never select by choice. A pair of leather pants occupied his legs, and left practically nothing to the imagination. Exotic, beast-skinned shoes occupied his feet. An open vest rounded out the ensemble.

The selection screamed that he had money to burn and a pronounced lack of morals.

And, ironically enough, this assessment was not too far off from the truth.

As the music thundered about, Darth Metus stood before a balcony. His form was leaned casually against the railing whilst he nursed a glass of cognac. On either side of his form were dancers who had been thoroughly compensated for the amount of attention they were showering him with. Wads of credits had been deposited, and now their hands never left his skin. That is, until the chime of Srina Talon echoed in his ear. He turned, opting to lean his elbows upon the railing. His smirk said that he was looking for his bedmate for the evening.

But in reality, he was searching for their mark. The one who had orchestrated a sordid reality in their backyard. "Ladies...This has been fun...But I spy with my little eye my dessert." With a chuckle and a wave, he dismissed the dancers and began his descent upon the dance floor. Their marks were entering from the front and would be headed towards a private room, accessible off to the side. A play from the Sith's youth came to mind. One that, at least at the time, resulted in at least one of his children coming to be.

It would involve quite a bit more credits. But it would get them in the back room - "someplace quiet" specifically. To begin, the Sith braved that which had been out of touch before. There were many who had tried to catch the wind in their hands, but none had succeeded - until he stepped forward. "Your face is very symmetrical." he said, "flirting" in the Echani manner. "Let's dance." And as he reached out his dominant hand, his thoughts echoed through their bond.

She'd know the plan. Normally she'd hate what it implied - but this was a job.

And a loud one at that.​

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Club Dread
Tag: Darth Metus

At least they finally had a use for at least one of her several hundred clones that had been mistakenly engineered on Kamino. They were nearly identical, visually, but all had adapted their own personalities over time. Some were able to find work within the Confederacy while some traveled far and wide to take in the galaxy as a whole. More than a few returned to Eshan. But the one currently taking her place on Naboo? In the offices? Organizing?

This one was very much her double. The sister, that was not. Blood, that was not.

They were very like-minded and could even trade blows with optimal skill and strength with one another.

Silvery eyes drifted up toward where she could feel her Master watching over her and a slow smirk spread across otherworldly features. As much as she hated this persona and the attire that had been chosen?

She wasn’t the one stuck wearing leather pants.

Her gaze flowed back down to the moving bodies around her like a waterfall that had run over. Her attention was split, however, she missed nothing. Echani eyes were keen. There was nothing passed in this rave that she did not notice. No one that entered that she did not take note of. No exchanges, no spice, and certainly no traffic of pleasingly shaped beings that would be lost and never heard from again. When the Sith Lord appeared before her it took everything, she had not to give him a solid thwack in the jaw. Of course—He would bring that up.

One time, he’d heard it. ONE TIME and she would never hear the end of it.

“You would look better not wearing…That.”, she responded, bluntly, and with a certain level of devil-may-care finesse. She was honest. It was ugly, and ill-befitting a man she knew to wear much less far better. Srina did not flirt in this way. She did not court nor did she enjoy being chased. It simply was or it was not. But, this was an act. A piece of the puzzle and a part of the show for those they had come to most assuredly put into the ground.

Her teeth began to grind. Words that involved creative and inventive explicates both in Echani and Mando’a would ring in his head like a chorus from the hells that boiled in the Netherworld. Srina was a flame within that did not like this one bit. It was akin to being tamed. No one, tamed her. No one, boxed her in. And yet this mission required that it be exactly that. They had to be convincing.

“Don’t step on my toes…”

There. It wasn’t how she truly felt but the slow smile that touched the corner of her lips told otherwise in a suddenly teasing game. A cat and mouse. It was as if a smog had lifted and everything about her countenance changed. Silver eyes were luminous while the lights played long pale skin in weaving patterns. “You better keep up.”

She reached out and took his hand and let the sable-skinned man pull her close. It was strange. If this was actually something they’d decided to do as themselves she might not have been so grumpy. As it stood—Doing it for a mission made it feel cheap. They could never disappear from their lives and let loose. Unless…Unless, it involved putting something right.

<<You owe me many things. You will decide how to make this up to me, Master.>>​

 

[Darth Metus]

CLUB DREAD​

Tag: Srina Talon

It was difficult to hear the music.

There were very very few instances in their daily lives that would see alabaster passion ignited against the Master. If he made one too many jokes about how the cutting boards were symmetrical? Perhaps he would earn a knife chucked towards his cranium. But outside of deliberately egging the woman on for the sake of a chuckle, it was seldom that Darth Metus did anything that would frustrate her. Yet, in this moment, the prospect of putting on a convincing show for their surroundings was one that lit his psyche on fire. Not due to his own will, mind. But due to the string of Echani and Mando'a swears which ripped through his brain like a hurricane.

It was enough that the man blinked several times before resuming the facade. The symmetrical jokes were here to stay. Always.

Her remark regarding his attire caused a chuckle to escape his lips. It was humorous, as she had seen him devoid of clothing before. Ironically enough, said views were the definition of platonic. Yet, in this case, the hug of the leather pants left so little to the imagination that it seemed intentional. If it were not for the fact that there were at least fourteen holo-articles which swore these were the latest rave fashion, he would have gone with something else. But, for the sake of the mission, he'd put up with a little pinch and a little ride in his nether regions. At least for a little while longer.

"I would feel better too." he remarked, before motioning his chin in her direction - exuding the playboy confidence of the act. "At least one of us looks good."

Soon thereafter, their dance began. She told him not to step on her toes, in a tone which was foreign. Flirting was not something that Srina Talon did. In fact, the words Flirting and Srina Talon were only in a sentence when parted by the word Not. Were it not for the sake of the mission, the Sith would have lost his composure right then and there. But rather, he drew her close. It wasn't the first time they had danced. It certainly wasn't the first time they had been in such close proximity to one another.

Being One - it meant that something like this should be child's play. But, in the moment, he could understand his apprentice's apprehension. It felt and was manufacturered. Yet, at the same time, a manufacturered night of "fun" was the only way they could do such a thing. When last they had cut loose for the heck of it, it was during an international shindig. And even then they minded their P's and Q's. Suffice it to say, the Sith understood. It was fake, in all the wrong ways.

I got just the thing. We'll do this for real when we get back. Oh - and your favorite soup. She could never say no to her favorite soup. Even in the midst of symmetrical jokes.

In that moment, they moved with the bass. Their bodies swayed and touched like the music-holovids. Yet they were aware. Searching. Watching. Darth Metus kept an eye on the movement of the target, noting that they had paid the bouncer and moved into the back of the establishment. They would wait out the remainder of the song before playing their next card. At least what came next was normal - cutting loose and putting an end to corruption. Cutting loose and letting fly with the blade.

That one couldn't fake.​

 

[Meili Feng]

Location: Ares Stone's ship
Wearing: This
Tagging: Ares Stone

​

Boarding, now he was talking her language. Less of this waiting and watching the ships as they drifted by in the cold emptiness of space. The quiet had been pressing on her almost suffocating her with the forced inactivity.

Everything about the ship that had just arrived felt off, wrong. That kind of feeling that shifted the hairs on the back of your neck and left you shivering. Yet, that feeling of superstition and dread ran straight into curiosity and recklessness. Her companion was right, ships didn’t just appear in the middle of no-where, at least not without the burst of radiation and shock of a hyperspace entry…and that couldn’t happen this far into a gravity well. That couldn’t happen with a ship looking like this. She’d never admit it out loud be she was glad the man had recorded the message…maybe she should get into the habit of recording something for her family back home.

As part of her training back home all the cadets had been taken up to an old hulk that the military had hauled out to the asteroid belt. The cruiser had once been a proud ship before taking on more pirates than it could handle to protect a convoy. While the cruiser had succeeded in protecting the merchants it had paid for it with it’s life. The broken hulk that remained had provided them with a place to practice their boarding tactics.

The ship that had appeared in front of them reminded her of nothing as much as that ship, broken, unable to move under it’s own steam. Yet, somehow it had travelled through space to arrive here, or been sent. Either way, they’d have to find out.

The petite woman uncoiled from the chair like a cat stalking it’s prey, one hand checking the weapon as she padded towards the back of the ship, dark eyes glancing over her shoulder as the barest hint of a smile ghosting over her face.

“To dance? Always.”

 

[Ares Stone]

wearing: xxx | tag: Meili Feng
​

"Oh honey," Ares replied, "do I look like I am dressed to dance."

He smirked as he looked the woman over. She seemed a little too excited about the prospect of getting onto what Ares could only call a ghost ship. The ship had all the signs of trouble. What they were getting ready to do was stupid, brash, irrational, and certainly hasty, but they were the only ones who seemed to take the mission. There was no back up, no other volunteers. It was them or no one. Fortunately Ares was used to these kind of situations. When he had been working for Penny deWinter, Ares found himself going boots first into all kinds of next level weird.

There was on problem... the girl was wearing a for fitting, skin tight, combat suit without a helmet. How were they supposed to board a ship that likely had no atmosphere when his partner was missing a key component... a vacuum sealed set of armor or at least a space suit.

Ares shook his head as we started walking back to the airlock. Grabbing a helmet from off one of the hooks on the wall, the soldier tossed it at the woman.

"Think fast!"

A small laugh escaped him as Ares tried to catch Mei off guard. Part of him wanted to test her reflexes, and part of him was simply in the mood to make his own fun. They had been sitting for a time after all. There was nothing like being completely board to bring out a person's ornery side. He might have been a stoic soldier most of the time, but Ares did know how to cut loose and have fun.

"We are not going anywhere until you get that on at least. Have you ever seen what happens when someone gets spaced? Not a fun way to go I'd imagine."

He waited for the girl to comply before stepping into the airlock the rest of the way.

"Shall we dance?"

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Club Dread
Tag: Darth Metus

They blurred between the undulating forms in a slow wave of people that had no idea what was going on in the back rooms. Just out of sight; out of mind. Srina felt her stomach twist at the thought that perhaps they did know but had pressed the idea out of their minds in favor of spice and personal wishes. Gain at the direct expense of another was foul. Srina had few thoughts on a venue such as this, mostly, that it was wholly too loud.

How could they enjoy themselves when they could scarcely hear themselves think?

She twisted in the arms of her new dance partner and realized, not for the first time, that dance was quite similar to combat. Srina did enjoy it. She just didn’t enjoy it for the purpose of putting on a display for greedy eyes and black hearts. Her Master was careful to toe the line that wouldn’t get him nailed with a cheeky elbow to the solar plexus when it came to movement. Respectful, but very much so in the moment. His compliment rolled off her shoulders like water. Not that she didn’t believe he meant it—But because it was mostly irrelevant. “I was designed to be prettier than you. Do not pout.”

There was no originality in her gene pool. It was boring. Dull—And aggravating.

He was lucky to be unique.

There was a slight sense of satisfaction at feeling his shock when she turned the tables and continued with the ruse. Most assumed she would one day reproduce via vegetative propagation over actually choosing a viable partner, however, it was none of their business. She could lure whom she wished, if, she wished. Srina simply loathed it. The whole lot of it. It was too simple, too basic, and generally unnatural. Who wanted to play these games?

It mortified her that some people even found it entertaining.

He seemed to understand her discomfort. The pale woman didn’t like playing games. She didn’t like being anything other than what she was intended to be. It was the reason her eyes ran gold when her hate and fury rand deep. It was the reason that taking life, when deserved, never caused her to flinch. At his offer to properly spend time together she nodded her head, imperceptibly, and let her back rest against his chest for a moment. Silent, acceptance.

Words, even using thought-speak, were entirely overrated.

Her hands reached up and twined about his neck effortlessly. The only saving grace to this entire fiasco was that she knew how he moved. Granted, this typically applied in a sparring scenario but she found the applicated also valid here. She was shorter and lighter. She always used his height and strength against him. This was the same thing. Only, it worked toward mutual benefit. She fell into the movement, twisting, and rocking as if she were made to do so. They were in perfect contrast, whole, in a bounded sphere of motion that was never-ending. There were no pointed pauses or awkward moments where her heel slammed down on his beast-skin (ugly) boot.

To anyone that watched them, it would seem that they were simply having a marvelous time. It was a great swell of pure humanity. The dancefloor was hot, noisy, and the area closest to the stage with the band was so crammed that one could barely see them between the silvers of shadow. The music dominated everything. Everyone was dancing—On the mezzanine, on the little stages that projected out onto the dance floor like catwalks, in the bar, behind the bar, and even on the way in and out the door. The slender warrior projected confidence and easy appeal whilst never seeming to pull from the moment. None would realize that she was constantly scanning the room.

Her shoulders rolled when it was time, one, then the other before pulling away in short order as the song came to a close. The expression her heart-shaped face was nothing like the Exarch of the Confederacy. There was emotion, smoothing the sharpest of her edges, and perfectly balanced sweetness that bade her dance partner to follow when her fingers danced up and led him by the chin.

The transfer of payment and the disappearance into the back? Out of sight? That was their cue.

She couldn’t wait to rip out a rib cage and turn it into a hat.

A quick glance behind her brought a slight smile that touched the kiss of her mouth, silent, and a little more familiar.

"I'm ready—You better be."

 

[Darth Metus]

D E S C E N D​

Tag: Srina Talon

I was designed to be prettier than you.

There were times when the affects of being so close, for so long, became evident. Times when the imprint of the alabaster warrior manifested in the Sith Lord. And times when his quirks would fall from her own lips. Over the years, the Sith had found himself flowing through tasks. He was driven, like a coursing river, and would always arrive at the end destination. Such was the wintry reality of his dearest apprentice. Such were the ways of her people, the ways of her upbringing, and the ways of her lineage.

Conversely, there were times when such words escaped her that it was almost like He was talking. Wit. Snark. The moments were few and far between, but when they occurred? A nugget of pride would swell within his chest. Such was the moment. Though there was a literal truth behind her words, in that Echani naturally looked alike...and were stunning at that...the snark was not lost upon him. He would have flicked her ear in mock retaliation if the circumstances were different. Or at the very least came back with a zinger.

But for now, he simply chuckled.

But for now, they flowed.

Her thoughts on the dance being similar to their sparring sessions wormed into his mind. They echoed through their bond and laid to rest any hesitation on his part. He was respectful at all times, yes. She was his charge, his friend - certainly not an object. But they sparred nonetheless. Her hands wormed about his neck, arms raised - she was always faster than he. Quicker. Flexible. Able to duck, dive, and weave in ways that his stature couldn't replicate. She used this against him in their duels - but he had his own edge as well.

His dominant hand came to rest upon her waist and they moved in tandem. Their hips swayed. Speed and Power, perfectly balanced amidst thunderous bass. It was not lost upon the Sith that eyes had been laid upon them. They were "having a good time" it seemed. They were playing the part well. Yet, the opening was there. The time to move was upon them. And the alabaster woman turned and trailed her fingers underneath his chin. She then strode forward, towards the door. Towards the target.

And with each step, the actual Echani began to arise. With each step, they were drawing closer to being themselves. "You'd best believe." came his response - one that was easily drowned out in the noise. He followed after her, mock swagger in his steps. And, upon arrival, his hand once against returned to the woman's waist. "My man." he said, raising his chin in greeting. "We need some quiet. Feel me?" Coupled with his words were a fresh investment of credits.

The funds changed hands. The heavy door was opened and they stepped within.

As soon as the door closed, the bass was all but drowned out. It was as if they were in a completely different world. One where terror lingered in the air - so much so that it muted the ecstacy of dancing occurring just behind the door. They would make this right. But first. An ancient lyric fell from the man's lips. Power flowed in every syllable, commanding that which was not to be. Creation took root about his person, burning away the ill-fitting threads and replacing them with something far better. The attire was simple at a glance. It was an affair that she had seen before.

The same getup he'd don during their morning spars. He was ready to throw hands. Comfortably. "I can feel terror beneath us." he remarked. And straightway their way was clear. They were seeking stairs - seeking their means to descend and put to an end the ring.​