Private Surface Detail

[Jihun Kim]

Coruscant wasn't quite the political powerhouse it used to be in a multi-polar world, but it remained a cultural mecca of high society and stunning architecture. From his corner seat on the open terrace, Jihun could witness glittering spires stretching as far as the eye could see, many topped off with fancy establishments just like Ambrosia. The (new) Galactic Alliance was in town, and life was good.

However, such glamour was only surface deep.

It only took one level down to see the dirty machinery keeping the whole planet running, the grimy world of the under dwellers, all vying to claw their way to the top by any means. Few of them got far, jealously dragging each other back down like crabs in a barrel - the working class was its own worst enemy. Every level down got more decrepit and regressive until you made it to the dark primeval heart of the ecumenopolis, the grim domain of living refuse.

The patrons of Ambrosia perfectly encapsulated Coruscant, all rotten crooks and killers that swathed themselves in sleek silken threads and fineries worth more than a Foreman's pay for a year.

These were the crabs who made it.

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Location: Old stomping grounds // Ambrosia . . .
. . . Wearing / Equipt With: This, a hidden blaster + lipstick . . .
. . . Objective: Meet the client . . . Tag: Jihun Kim . . .​

. . .​

This wasn't a good idea.

To say Eve Escort's reputation was tarnished would be the understatement of her year. Or, at least it was on Coruscant. Even still, a girl had to make a living, and there wasn't much intelligence work to be done in the Outer Rim Alliance, at least not wheresoever floated The Undoubtedly. So she had taken a prospective job back on the planet on which she had first built everything.

Polite talk on the street was that prostitute solicitation had gone passé, though it hadn't nearly. The trade had come alive on wealthy and poor streets alike, where Malcoma had not allowed it to thrive for long when she had her intensive monopoly. Walking some of those very same streets to arrive on Ambrosia's doorstep, she could tell they were doing collectively well for themselves - financially, if nothing else. It was the nothing else that had her shaking her head as she finally passed into the upscale bar.

Whatever passed form polite talk outside of the senatorial district, anyway? It was a part of that glamour, shallow and meaningless. Legal talk was that of the planetwide town, and that was that, The Family had crumbled after its original Donna retired unexpectedly. Sure, that was old news, as was its ripple effect onto Eve. Without the protection of mob capos, many a Family associate fell, the madam's front very much included. She herself was a single step ahead of the Security Force; Lovecraft Plaza, Suite 05, Uscru Entertainment District was raided, but she, and her girls, were long gone. They couldn't turn up any hard evidence of either blackmail or pandering, but put out an offical statement the next day declaring the escort service's alleged crimes.

But, really, what weight did the authorities' advisories carry, even in Coruscant's so-called high society?

Malcoma knew the answer was, to most, none. When everyone partook in crime, was anything truly illegal? CSF was fighting an uphill battle, bless their hearts.

It was cute, really.

Malcoma floated up to the bar and flagged down the keeper. "Martini." As she waited for it, she turned about to lean slightly back on the counter, only then allowing herself a survey of the room. It had to look idle. Mister Kim had asked specifically for subtlety.

 

[Jihun Kim]

When the good Madam did finally slink her way into Ambrosia, she would be hard to miss even if he wasn't actively looking for her. The blonde certainly turned heads at the bar with her exotic Hapan features like their feline eyes. The pirates that had founded her civilization certainly had the right idea snatching up all the hot women they could for their harems. To date, he had never seen a bad looking Hapan - though he had never met a particularly pleasant one, either.

They were all pretty as angels, but also conniving as Umbrans.

A deadly combo.

"Put that on my tab," Jihun called out to the bartender as he leaned against the marble counter next to Hesse. "And I'll have a shot of Whyvern"

The bartender nodded and carried out his order, then Jihun turned to the blonde on his side, smirking.

"Why don't we take this party outside? I already have a nice little spot warmed up on the terrace."

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Jihun Kim . . .​

. . .​

Malcoma basked in independence, but she also rarely decline being paid for.

So she smirked right back to the man. Though she hadn't received his picture as part of her contract, she was rather sure that he was her client. And, if not, he surely was looking for business of some kind or another. No man - correction, few men - approached her for no reason other than looking for cheap or free fun. The smart ones.

"Lovely," she cooed pushing off the counter and turning back to it. She wrapped her lithe fingers around the bowl of the stemmed glass that the bartender placed in front of her, and rose it to her lips to take a cursory sip. A taste. Yes, this would do nicely. The drink itself was good enough only because she had gotten so used to the taste of high society's alcohol, but the mere fact she was drinking money not her own made it all the better.

Was the good madam selfish?

Yes.

"Do lead the way."

 

[Jihun Kim]

He collected his drink and nodded for the blonde to follow him.

Outside, he had one corner of the terrace reserved for himself, an ornate crystalline table that looked like it had been carved out of a single rock, lined by plush cream booths. He allowed the madame to get comfortable while he took a swig of his drink. With his augments, it was almost impossible for the cyborg to get drunk without at least downing a barrel, but he enjoyed the smooth taste of the premium whiskey worth more than its weight in gold - with Corellia cracked down the middle, there weren't many Corellian brewers left running around these days.

A shame. Their booze was even better than their starships.

"There's a lot you can tell about a person from their choice in beverage," his dark eyes flicked to her glass. "A standard dry martini, the classic drink of choice for classy women."

Jihun had time to kill, so he could play for a while before they got down to business.

"Or for women who want to appear classy."

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Jihun Kim . . .​

. . .​

Malcoma crossed her slender thighs under the table. She took leisurely sip of her own drink, watching Mister Kim as he spoke through both half-lidded cat eyes and the lip of her triangular vessel. From there, she reflected upon the cyborg's voice, specifically how much of a cool drink of water it was from that of Wynter Rackham . She hated herself for even admitting to herself that she didn't hate the captain all in all, but only his continuous onslaught of ill-formulated puns and the like was quick to loose its charm.

Very quick.

One could like the sound of their own selves and still talk considerably less. Likewise, a person's wit did not have to be always on such obnoxious display.

She floated the glass away from her lips, holding it suspended in the air rather than set it on the crystal below. "Mm, yes, isn't it?" she asked rhetorically, in agreement more than anything. "I can tell you wonder which I am, darling." She motioned at him with her free hand, replacing it over her knee when she was done. "Don't worry too much; you'll give yourself wrinkles. It would be such an unfortunate waste of a pretty face.

"I could tell you, but wouldn't it be fun to try to deduce for your own self?" She sat slightly back in the booth with a ghost of a smirk. If he wanted to play...

 

[Jihun Kim]

He chuckled before taking another sip of whiskey. Apparently she was up to play a bit as well. Good, he didn't roll around in the Underworld to be a stiff Corporatist.

"Don't worry, I already have an idea." He gently swirled the glass in his hand, making the large marble of ice within clink against the glass. "This venue attracts a certain crowd."

"But you're right, it wouldn't be quite entertaining if you showed your hand right at the get go. Exploration is a pleasure in itself."

He suddenly downed the rest of his glass, then waved over one of the waiters, a glossy black server droid.

"So, let me take you to Heaven."

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Jihun Kim . . .​

. . .​

"Exploration is a pleasure in itself. ... So, let me take you to Heaven."

"Oh, my," she drawled, finally setting down her drink in favor of sitting back in the booth. "If I had known this was that type of job, I would have worn something more...appropriate." She may have been aware that he was talking about a drink. Then again, she may have not. Nothing was telling about her face, other than she was finding the exchange rather amusing either way.

She suddenly sat forward. Honeyed voice gaining some amount of seriousness while losing none of her playfulness, she asked, "I thought you were in a different business here, Mister Kim. Was I misinformed?" This cat was either dense, or else much liked playing with mice.

 

[Jihun Kim]

"Mmm, it wouldn't matter what you wore if it was, my floor welcomes all garments equally."

Right as Hesse propped herself up in a most inviting angle, the droid returned with a tray topped with empty glasses and a large crystalline bottle containing ruby liquid. Light filtered through the translucent fluid, casting Jihun's face with a crimson glint as the droid stood beside the table pouring a new round of drinks for the pair.

"Oh no, you weren't misinformed, but it's never wise to walk off with a product before sampling the goods."

His dark eyes traveled over the valley created by her new position.

"My former associates used to do business with the Family when it was still a thing, and your services came highly recommended. Thus far, you haven't disappointed."

The droid offered the glasses to Jihun and Hesse, which he quickly accepted. He only took a small sip, but that was enough to taste the massive kick of intensity from his whiskey. It had a nice burn like Jet, but didn't taste like slag that had just been pumped out from someone's engine tank.

"How are you enjoying Coruscant's new management?"

In less than the span of a year, the Core world hand fallen into new hands, this time by the (new) Galactic Alliance. The Underworld still chugged along regardless, but generally with more discretion as the new overlords at least paid lip service to justice and all that jazz. A damper on some activities, but a wealth of new opportunities for those who could adapt to the new climate.

As light was cast, shadows were born.

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Jihun Kim . . .​

. . .​

Malcoma laughed at Jihun's suggestion about her attire. "Mm, noted," she offered. "In that case, maybe I'll throw in some pleasure after business." She was only partially playing; she would have to see how much whatever main act he had in mind made her sweat.

"The Family..." the madam mused, "was a nugget of fool's gold. It even bamboozled me." She took a sip of the newly-arrived whiskey, though she would much rather whet her palate with her martini, but as her patron had so amply said, it was bad business to not sample the goods one was to peddle. Bootlegging, then? was Malcoma's thought pending more job details. ...Fantastic. She took the kick from Heaven respectably well, only knitting her brows slightly. It wasn't vile after the initial impact has sizzled out, but didn't see herself in a billion light years coming to prefer it. If someone ever again bought it for her though, why, there was some enjoyment to be had. "And I so dislike having to say that."

Then, regarding the Galactic Alliance, she began, "I've been an expatriate for some time. A necessity of fronting." Fronting off what as what? She left that to his imagination, as it was really none of his business. It was, though, whatever he was about to hire her to do. For that, he just needed to know she was effective - as he already seemed to because she had come 'highly recommended' and not yet 'disappointed' - not the inner workings of Eve Escorts. "Before this fun... social experiment started growing in its little petri dish, CSF raided my Uscru office." It was time to drain more of her whiskey. Another bit of enjoyment, she supposed: dulling the cutting edge of the past. In her case, how close she had come to arrest.

She wagged her finger at him after place down her glass once more. "No no no, don't do that wrinkle thing again. Associating with me won't cause you trouble. As long as I don't bring my girls back to Galactic City - which I haven't, nor will - all the police have against me are baseless accusations."

 

[Jihun Kim]

"Let's just see how things go, and then perhaps I'll help you end the night on a sweet note."

He wasn't sure if she was really offering anything or just toying - Jihun had been around long enough to be wary of pretty women - but if she was then he certainly wouldn't refuse. The Hapan had kindled a curiosity he desired sated.

"Judging by your tone, I take it that you found the Family didn't quite live up to expectations. It was quite a shame honestly, I had high hopes for them."

He really did. They were poised to establish an intergalactic network based out of Coruscant, and with that a huge laundering operation for his old firm. But things were not to be. With only a few setbacks the Family had quickly folded back into obscurity.

"Doesn't sound like you're much a fan of the Alliance either. Mmm, if the Curse of the Core is real, then I expect we won't have to endure them very long, but in the meantime, how would you like to expand your horizons with my group?"

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Jihun Kim . . .​

. . .​

Malcoma shrugged. To her, business was business, not casual conversation, but taking it too seriously was also the mark of a bad player. "My thumb's been out of the Coruscanti pie for too long," she began. "I'm having sugar withdrawals. Only problem is the Underworld thinks I got scared out of the game for good - but not necessarily that I'm bad business, which I'm not regardless of CDF prodding for reasons I've already stated, because some have their heads screwed on right." She paused and smoothly gestured Jihun's way. "I'm sure one of which is you." It was stated sweetly enough, coated in a thin layer of sincerity, but one didn't have to stretch the imagination much to understand that saying so little had pained the hapan.

"Either way, I want to to strike my grand re-entrance, and..." She sat back again, spreading her arms. "Here. We. Are.

"And how about you, darling? Why is your group," quite the elusive term so far, "in the market for a madam?"

She assumed the obvious wasn't at play here, or maybe in a way it was.

 

[Jihun Kim]

So times weren't exactly great for the Hapan, herself admitting as much. No doubt it was a struggle to say for such a woman where image was everything. That's exactly why he had approached her when he did, when the pickings were slim, and competition was fierce.

A real buyer's market in the Underworld.

"It is a shame. You were poised to have some real power within the City Authority, but that door was suddenly shut." He lazily pushed through empty air with his free hand. "Unfortunate, but that's just life. You can do everything right and still get fleeced, but as doors close, windows do sometimes open."

He twirled his fingers upwards, then smoothly transitioned into picking something out of his inner breast pocket. In his hand was a small silver cylinder, which he gently set on the table, then rolled her way expecting her to catch it.

"My organization is interested in all you have to offer as a Madam, including all the special items off menu."

By now, it should have been obvious that he hadn't approached her for the "hospitality" normally offered. That was only a front for the real valuable services that interested him.

"We prefer our discretion, so before proceeding, you'll have to sign off on an NDA."

The cylinder was mostly smooth, but there was a small indention on one end. If she were to press it in, panes of digital forms would be projected directly to her eyes. Thousands upon thousands of elaborate lawyerly prose to communicate one message:

If she signed that form and broke NDA, he would ruin her.

"It's not time sensitive, but the sooner the better. We have plans for you."

He winked before taking another sip of bloody Heaven.

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Eugen Aker . . .​

. . .​

"Oh, so you're after my flair," she cooed, crossing her legs under the table and pulling at her trench coat's bottom to get it to sit flush against her porcelain skin again. Once handed the holo-scroll, she indeed pressed in the indentation, opening it. "Ah, no no, no time like the present." She did take her time in reading the agreement, however. Another good business practice. A girl never could be too careful these days.

She gave her elegant signature on the dotted, digital line before carefully returning the paperwork - and pen - into its receptacle. As she returned it, she canted her head just so and gave the slightest of smirks. Catlike. More than ready to play with whatever mice she was sicced upon today.

"When do we start?"

 

[Solitaire]

She took her time reading the contract, which Jihun acknowledged with a few small nods as he sipped down the rest of her drink. It was smart to be cautious - you never knew when you were just about the sign your soul away. Fortunately, there was nothing like that in the contract.

So long as she complied with the terms.

He accepted the cylinder once she had finished, balancing it on one finger as he opened his jacket, then tilting the digit to make it slid down his inner pocket and disappear from view.

"We'll start tomorrow evening. Mmm, correction. You'll be starting tomorrow evening. On Friday, there will be a shuttle to transport you offworld. Details of transportation will be forwarded to your holo account, but further information will only be provided once on site. It would be prudent get your affairs in order before departure. The..."tour" may be a lengthy one. Perhaps around one to three months."

There was very little time between now and takeoff, all by design. Less time for intervention. Less time for scheming.

Official business adjourned, he sat back after pouring another glass of Heaven, sloshing the ruby liquid around in the glass.

"As far as we're concerned, this is where we part ways for now, unless you're keen for something of a more recreational nature. The night is still young, after all."

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Solitaire . . .​

. . .​

But of course he had meant her. So did she, but didn't a display of comradery tinge a relationship with fresh trust?

Mm, maybe not - she wouldn't worry her pretty little head.

Bold of him to assume her affairs were ever anything but ordered. She bit her tongue, quite literally, as Jihun laid out his warning. After, her previous suggestion rebounded. Her smirk, previously remaining in idle, deepened. "It's not very ladylike to have desert before dinner," she innuendoed. "Upon homecoming, perhaps." She assumed he would be her handler for this job, but she wasn't about to simply let him handle her. Instead, she stood, shrugging. "Check back in?" A hand found its way onto her shoulder as she drifted past him, but paused. Her touch lingered just enough to be suggestive, applying pressure to match. "It's been a pleasure. Goodnight, Mr. Kim."

Rebuttoning her trench coat, Malcoma wove her way back through Ambrosia, and out onto the stale, neon air. Almost missed this, she thought as she lit a cigarra. Wading through the thin stream of smoke made the trek to her hotel somehow faster - or at least thoroughly more enjoyable.

She'd be on the transport Friday.

 

[Solitaire]

Later...

As promised, the details about her coming flight forwarded. The shuttle was to be found at a privately owned starport, well known among locals to service some exclusive corporate clientele that preferred discretion moving between worlds. Up to this point, Malcome's new associates still hadn't identified themselves, but few could doubt that it wasn't a serious operation.

Whenever she arrived, Malcome would find more than just a shuttle awaiting her in the shrouded hanger. It was a sleek black luxury courier, the variety favored by dignitaries and moguls. A pair of equally shiny security droids paced around the hanger, heads bobbing as they constantly scanned their surroundings inside and out.

One of the side ramps to the courier was down, and perched on it was a masked man in a three-piece grey suit, humming softly to himself as he whittled down a chunk of ivory wood with a gunmetal shiv.

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Location: Private spaceport . . .
. . . Wearing / Equip With: Leather and fur / a hidden blaster + lipstick . . .
. . . Objective: Make contact . . . Tag: Solitaire . . .​

. . .​

Damric had not been enthused.

Not when she left for Coruscant, not now. The bodyguard had been through enough scrapes with Malcoma to know she would always make it to the other side reasonably operational, so you'd think he'd knew better than to worry. His obsession didn't turn her off though - on the contrary, it relived her, though she would never say so.

Someone cared. Truly, and from the bottom of their black, criminal heart. In all of her years dealing, she could never seem to buy genuine interest. Security was a dime a dozen, but friends? In this line of work? Don't be ridiculous.

Malcoma was sure no one on Coruscant knew what the levels of relation above acquaintance were.

She allowed her purposed stride to slow when her expectations suddenly upended. In place of the lone, unassuming rustbucket she had been envisioning stood a fashionable transport. "Well, well," she began, side eyeing a security droid as she continued on towards the mysterious man. "Guess I got the memo." Upon stopping, she crossed her arms and finally looked at him.

She was, of course, referring to the color coordination in the hangar bay. She wasn't a girl for omens, but perhaps this coincidence would set her off on the right foot.

 

[Solitaire]

Even as Malcome approached Solitaire, the maked man kept his head down, eyes locked on the chunk of ivory wood taking shape within his gloved palms.

Most of it had the rough shape of an inverted cone, but a few bits had been carved out with great detail. Wafer thin petals that almost resembled the real deal, texture and all.

Between his boots was a large pile of shavings on the deck, indicating he had been there a while.

"There was once a lovely little flowering plant called a nova bell. It was called such because its golden petals almost seemed to shimmer with its own light. Additionally, they had some medicinal properties, the petals able to be ground into a panacea. They were such a lovely specimen, made even more valuable by the fact that they could only be found and grown on one planet."

His deep voice was gravely, almost rasping. The mask muffled his words, but only slightly.

"Could you take a guess what planet that was?"

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

. . . Tag: Solitaire . . .​

. . .
​

"Not Coruscant, I reckon." Malcoma had never been one for flowers, not because they weren't pretty or didn't smell nice, but because they were an extraordinarily expensive commodity on the ecumenopolis.

She shifted her weight to one hip. From insinuations of bootlegging alcohol to smuggling petals, she couldn't make heads nor tails of this job no matter how hard she squinted. She assumed that was exactly what her employers desired though: ambiguousness. And an entire fog rather than an air to boot.

"Somewhere else in the Core?" she asked, willing to play along despite her mounting frustration. "Tell me if I'm getting cold."