Private Knock on the Door

[Countess Anétresya]

It was in the very early am when she got an urgent alert on the systems on of her penthouse - a call from the tower's head of security. This obtrusion of her peace this late was rare, if anything, must be incredibly important. "My Lady, I apologise for the intrusion. We need to get you evacuated immediately. More than fifty armed men have taken hold of the building and the entrances." The voice said. The news did not evoke any sense of fear or worry as one would expect, instead, the corners of her lips merely twisted into a scowl. Anetresya summoned her datapad, accessing into the building's survelliance.

Who ever these incendiaries were, had managed to take down all of the security droids, now all in parts scattered in a mess across the building. "Have you found out what exactly they want?" She asked, sternly. "No, ma'am. They are not letting any civilians in or out." The sangnir resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They had chosen to take her building hostage, she couldn't believe that her staff and systems were that incompetent to allow it to come to that in the first place.

"Make sure all the guests remain in the rooms. Gather the rest of the civillians at the casino. I will speak to whoever is in charge of this atrocity." She told the personel at the end of the call before cuting him short, leaving no room for protest as she turned her datapad off. She'd change into something appropriate, formal as one would for a business meeting. Then she'd take the elevator down.

It took a while to descend a near hundred stories. The doors opened to an armed man standing by, that turned to her with his weapon raised. <<Amslentdi,>> She muttered the incantation of a spell, merely with a brief raise of her finger. The weapon dissassembled rapidly right from his hands, the parts clattering onto the floor. "None of that. I would like to speak with whoever is incharge."

Jonah

 

[Jonah]

QENOIRA TOWER

The reach of the Haxion Brood was ever-expanding.

In recent history, their state had been (admittedly) sorry. However, there was a rather tumultuous change in management. The previous ruler of the criminal syndicate, one Mister Stargo III, was rather brutally deposed. In his place came a much more capable individual, aided by much more capable comrades. And thus, seemingly overnight, a group that made their credits harassing the occasional shipment moved onto bigger and brighter things.

Such as attempting to seize control over the famed Qeniora Tower.

According to the intel Jonah had amassed beforehand, the locale was ideal for Brood operations. There were multiple income streams, including a thriving casino. There were clients from all across the Galaxy. Its owner was a recent widow, which would make a handoff "easy". And its location was such that it wouldn't take a week of hyperspace transit for the average vessel to show up. In essence, it fit all the criteria Jonah looked for in a new field office. Now the only challenge was actually taking it.

Thus, during a seemingly normal day of business, the operation kicked off. Vessels from the Haxion Freebooters blockaded the skies and orbit to prevent any ships from escaping the Tower's landing platforms. Then, a horde of transport ships deposited Whiteout personnel at the apex of the Tower, as well as the bottom entrance and the landing pads. Suffice it to say, the operation was sudden, swift, and occurred at many levels.

In but a few minutes' time, the security detail and droids responsible for keeping the Tower safe were dealt with. All that remained was getting the keys handed over. To that end, the Underlord was about to ask his men for the location of the widowed Countess. However, as the question fell from his lips, the comm channel sounded. One of their operatives on a lower floor had found the target...but sounded worried. Jonah raised his eyebrow.

Arriving via the adjoining flight of stairs, Jonah strolled forth on the floor in question - flanked by his armored subordinates. His gaze, obscured by his sunglasses, fell upon the women before the turbolift. The soldier she had spooked by disassembling his weapon then motioned with his thumb towards the man. "T-That's him, that's the boss."

Jonah folded his arms. "So you are the Countess?" he began, looking her up and down. The man was unimpressed and a touch confused as to why his armed personnel was scared shitless by the woman. No matter. "If so, I must say, lovely Tower. We of the Haxion Brood like it so much, we'd like to take it off your hands if you don't mind."​

Countess Anétresya​

 

[Countess Anétresya]

"Hm," She hummed unamused, taking a moment to glance up the man, as he did her. Part of her had expected the lead of such an operation to be more intimidating, to say the least. "Countess Anetresya." She stated her name.

The Qenoira Tower was hers and hers alone. It was once shared with the man swayed by her charm, the man she used as means to get hold of it among other assets. But now, no one else could have it.

The man spoke of the Haxion Brood, the infamous underground criminal organisation she'd caught word about. This was perfect, the head of the criminal organisation was right in her grasp. The countess merely let out a scoff at the demand. "I will have to decline. It will be wise for you and your company to leave. I will not ask again."

 

[Jonah]

QENOIRA TOWER

It was then that Jonah's eyebrow raised ever so slightly. Here was a woman, a singular individual, whose Tower had been effectively de-clawed. Its security personnel were dismantled. Its clients were practically hostages. And yet, she had the cahones to say it'd be wise for them to leave? At first, Jonah wanted to chock it up to bravado - but the demeanor of his subordinate had him think otherwise.

There was something about this Countess. Something that gave her the confidence to stare down a hallway full of armed personnel. "You surprise me, Countess." he began, "Most in your predicament would be happy to sign on the dotted line."

Jonah took a bold step forward.

"So tell me, why would it be so wise of us to leave? What can you, by your lonesome, possibly do to us?"​

Countess Anétresya​

 

[Countess Anétresya]

There was a smile that flickered on her lips. This was the role she presumed, a woman that had her wealth handed to her on a silver platter. The Lady of the Qeniora Tower, always underestimated. "I am not most people." She remarked. Indeed, most people did not live over a century, much less maintain their youthful beauty and grace over the time.

The Lady did not flinch, or maintain her distance as the man stepped forward. "I'd advise you not to find out. I only have so much patience. But know you will not succeed. You and your men will suffer trying." The Lady of the Qeniora Tower was one of the more mundane lives she lived. It was a dangerous venture to have a hold of an establishment right within the sith capital, she expected something like this was bound to happen.

Jonah

 

[Jonah]

The woman before him smiled.

Jonah had seen panic before. He had seen bravado. But a smirk? In the face of these odds? Not once. Her words were confident as well, stating that she was not most people. She definitely had something up her sleeve - or at least was alluding to it. Given the fact that the Tower itself was within Sith Space, Jonah presumed that meant she had friends in dark places.

And to that end, he reached out to one of his Whiteout subordinates telepathically. There was nothing to betray the missive he uttered, but the force sensitive warrior shuffled behind Jonah and made for the landing pads. His words, a frantic string of Huttese, quickly faded as he moved.

Which left Jonah, the rest of his personnel, and the Countess. "I somehow doubt that." came the man's eventual reply. The Underlord then motioned with his chin towards a pair of his men. Both of whom aimed their rifles, set to stun, at the Countless. The weapons powered on, hummed at the ready, and fired.

Countess Anétresya​

 

[Countess Anétresya]

There was the unwavering confidence Anetresya had over her own prowess even when she was clearly outnumbered here. With the past few months relatively peaceful, it had been a while since she danced. The leader gestured to two of his men towards her, those men who raised their weapons and pulled the trigger.

However, the countess did not flinch, she did not take a step to move out of the trajectory. Instead her hands rose, palms facing the direction of the bolts flying at her with the speed of light, her index and middle fingers pointing towards. "glors-septaer," She muttered.

The matter and air in front of her seemed to warp and distort a faint cloud of purple smoke wafting. A screen where the bolts would enter, one directed through a portal back behind the unsuspecting armed personel. And another... Jonah would see the a purple cloud open up in a portal next to him, the bolt redirecting his way.

Jonah

 

[Jonah]

And there was the answer.

The reason why the Countess was so confident, despite being outnumbered and seemingly outgunned...the reason behind the fear that his subordinate demonstrated...it all made sense. The woman was much more than met the eye - for the stunning bolts fired in her direction were quickly consumed. What appeared as portals devoured the assault and redirected them.

One collided with the back of the leftmost guard. The other? Jonah saw the purple in his peripheral. And it was then that instinct took over. The Force coursed through his veins, empowering his reflexes. By the skin of his teeth, the man twisted himself out of the way. The bolt then flew by before colliding with the ceiling.

Clever, he thought, before setting his gaze upon the Countess. His dominant hand rose, the Force shrieking out as his own incantation flew from his lips. "Odojinya."

Multiple bands of dark energy manifested on the floor, rapidly tightening in an attempt to seize the Countess where she stood.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

Agile. Just in the nick of time, he had moved out of the way, the bolt nearly grazing him. There were not many spells that the witch had not heard of in her immortal life time. Spells which she knew the ways to counter. The webs of the dark energy wrapped around her legs first, but the witch showed no ounce of panic as she was slowly restrained.

Her slender arms stretched above her as if reaching for an object above her head. <<lumosxeluraa>> A bright orb of light manifested above her head in her palms, shining down upon the Lady and the dark tendrils grasping on. Her features illuminated bright, slowly overwhelming the webs of darkness. <<tifasemn>> Another incantation fell from her lips. The orb of light in her palms grew and illuminated the area intensely, for a moment, the vicinity was blinded by sheer white of force light.

Jonah

 

[Jonah]

Clever was an understatement.

From experience, Jonah knew that simply a touch from his incantation was enough to cause unimaginable pain. Having been on the receiving end more than once, he knew it took astronomical amounts of focus to push through the pain to speak - let alone cast a retaliatory spell. Yet, the Countess did so remarkably. She raised her hands above her head and there was light. The power bled away the Odojinya and only seemed to intensify.

Jonah's eyes narrowed.

He recognized that damn light. It was the bane of many a sorcerer. The bane of many cut from Darkness itself. But, there was one fortunate truth of the matter. He was literally raised with an understanding of what to do when faced with Jedi who wielded the Light as such. Chock it up to having two parents who were literally sustained by the Dark Side to live.

As the light began to intensify, Jonah's lips moved in their own incantation. Darkness then bled from his outstretched hands, moving apace to counter the ever-growing light in the hall. And, as soon as his waves made contact with the blinding light? They began to smother them. Devour them. Like a cloth being tossed over a budding flame.

As his own spell worked to counter the Light, Jonah's voice spoke above the clash. "I can see why you're so confident." he began. "Shall we continue until one of us are dead? Or perhaps...negotiate?"

For at this point, the Countess had proven herself to be deadlier than a platoon of his subordinates. And that was a problem.

Countess Anétresya