Faction The Corporate Security Ball - Darkwire

[Isar]

A gleaming stretch speeder pulled up at the front of the venue and the door hissed up, allowing Marcus to exit. A thin, tall man, he still appeared to retain some vigor despite the cane he carried in his left hand. He adjusted his Tapani-style cuff links and made his way toward the entrance, nodding at the valet.

As senator of Brentaal, what many considered the commercial capital of the galaxy, and chief executive officer of Azimuth Industries, his spare time was in short supply. But he managed to scrounge some up for an event like this.

Besides, it wasn’t a far trip from his satellite offices in Hyperi 7, the newly refurbished mega tower not too far away.

Marcus smiled in the night air. Late, but better late than never.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

​

A one-eyed Hutt manifested himself at the buffet table to the surprise of no one. He heaped a literal pile of caviar onto a plate, added some slices of bread, then made a beeline for the next thing that caught his eye.

Mercy​

The mercenary woman had made a name for herself. Gorba ran a tongue along his gums. Yes she had.

He butted in on her conversation with some other human, in the way hutts do. Rude. Impolite. Disgusting.

“Mercyyyy,” rumbled Gorba, “So good to see you again. When will you come work for me permanently, hmm? I could use your…” he looked her up and down, “arms.”

He dipped a finger in his plate full of caviar and licked it off, relishing the flavor of the fish eggs. Rich and expensive. Then he smiled.

Braxton Holst

 

[Hacks]

Puppets . . .

The four-armed shadowrunner moved through the corporate ball with a natural calm. Her black dress sparkled under the lights, her hair neatly pinned back, then slickened tight to her scalp. She looked every bit the part of a Corpo. Her eyes danced across the scene, her glasses analysing the faces present. Most came up with corporate firewalls, preventing her from accessing rudimentary information on their records. Some were not so wise and she gleefully lapped at the data that streamed across the screen. Birthdates, residential location, what bank they were with, who their employers were. She began to pin the files and swept them aside to study later. She had spotted someone far more interesting.

Hacks watched Gorba the Hutt, the morbidly gluttonous pig gorged himself on the delicacies available. Her glasses began to scan him, but she didn't need to dig too deeply. She already knew exactly who he was, but for some time she had assumed the beast had had his last meal long ago. There were few that lasted long in the underworld, it took tenacity and a special kind of grit to survive. She guessed he had that grit. After seeing Domino a few weeks ago, Gorba was just another relic of the past that came back to surprise her. His cartel long ago had swiftly taken to power in the vacuum following the collapse of the Red Raven Syndicate. Hacks had been a Red Raven.

Her head tilted, CryptNet chatter feed filled her augmented reality view. Hutt Space Consortium, now that's interesting, she thought to herself. Eyes soaking up the information and then dispelling the text from view, clearing her vision to watch the Hutt carefully. So Ivory of the Family was pulling the strings of Darkwire while Gorba looked to do. . . what? she wondered. Surely he was not here to do the same to the Corpos. A dangerous game that could unite enemies over a common cause if they got a whiff they were being played by the Consortium. Or maybe he is just fat and hungry, and there is good food to be had, she closed that train of thought.

Hacks took a seat, her glasses bringing up her corporate contact and pinged him, letting him know that she had arrived and was waiting. The slicer took a seat best fitted to keep an eye on Gorba and the woman he was talking too. A passing waitress, balancing a dozen cocktails on a silver platter, relinquished a glass to the shadowrunner and Hacks took a swig of it in a way far more befitting a dive bar regular than a sophisticated corporate woman.
​

Gorba the Hutt | Mercy

 

[Cal Halcard]

Location: Denon
Objective: Make a good impression
Tags: Dagon Kaze / Corin Trenor / Braxton Holst / Gemma Hentz / Gorba the Hutt / Westjer Airijac
Interacting with: Marcella Fiora / OPEN

"Well, miss Fiora. You'll know more about me soon enough" Val replied with a smirk, before having a sip of his drink. Marcella was certainly in a high position within Moonveil, and if he was able to get on her good side it would be certainly a beneficial business plan going forward. "I am a representative of sorts, manufacturing, technology, you name it. You may call me a speaker, or should I say the gate to bigger and better things" he mentioned, his eyes gazing around the other guests.

Pretty quickly, their host for the evening caught his eye. Westjer Airijac, an honourable man came over and welcomed them to the party. Val gave him a respectful nod to his welcome, offering him the same signature smile he'd give to any other rich corporate CEO. Everyone here was key to a brighter future, but the key was Moonveil and Marcella. Turning back to the woman, he looked out into the distance and sighed, deciding to be honest and open as to why he was choosing to speak with her.

"I've been here for a very long time, and I must say dark clouds are overhead for many of our industries on Denon. With those pests called Darkwire creating a course of revolution, it won't be long till the citizens of this world rise up overthrow the corporate vice that keeps them safe. Things have never been so uncertain, especially with those Jedi also sniffing around like a pack of dogs searching for treats. Soon, they will get their just judgement..."

 

[Westjer Airijac]

Mr. Westjer Airijac
Chairperson, [ÆM Conglomerate]
Arriving at a District 19 rooftop mansion
Tags: Marcella Fiora , Val Halcard, Gemma Hentz , and the peeping Dagon Kaze and Corin Trenor . Also open!​

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Airijac."

Only a moment earlier, a quiet bartender had glided by and set a wide-rimmed glass of a fragrant, dark red wine beside Westjer. Its scent carried the usual sharpness of strong alcohol that threatened to water the eyes if admired too closely, but it likewise carried a pleasantly sweet scent. Any with an eye for fine wine would know it for what it was: port, the traditional toasting drink of many navies... or for those who hated champagne. It was different enough from that norm to be a fashionable choice, but not nearly enough to be truly rebellious. How very like Westjer.

With a gentle nod of his head, Westjer returned Gemma's gesture and lifted his glass.
"Quite likewise, Ms. Hentz." He tilted the glass towards him to take a sip and ceremoniously cement the toast.

It wasn't like Westjer had a grand scheme that he conspired to weave Gemma into. In truth, it wasn't that grand an endeavor at all. Quite simply, for as long as Gemma was the President of the First Bank of Denon, she could have as much control over his profits as his target demographics given the right circumstances. It was a horrifyingly simple thing to conclude why Westjer might want to be on good terms with the newly minted President Hentz, but for Westjer, the simplicity of it all was a small relief.

"I've heard of your own success as well, and generosity, too." Westjer waved a hand dismissvely with a sensible chuckle.
"I'm afraid I cannot take credit for all such things, Ms. Hentz. In many ways, a healthy clientele simply makes for good business in the health and pharmaceuticals industry." It was only a half-truth - the good business came more from monopolizing health services and locking them behind an exploitative health insurance scheme. "But it is certainly fulfilling to be able to contribute to one's community through their work. Something you would be familiar with, Ms. Hentz, I'm sure."

While Westjer perhaps was not a conspirator in a grand scheme, that was not to say he came without a glint of opportunity.
"I must also offer my condolences, Ms. Hentz." Westjer's voice took on a lower, more somber tone. "Both as a generous man and a businessman, should you require anything, you are always more than welcome to reach out to me. These are turbulent times, perhaps even more so soon enough, and it may well be in our shared interest to promote stability within our markets." Promote stability - what a kind way of saying 'preserve the status quo.' How convenient that this would mean enshrining Ms. Hentz's power as the newly minted president. With a gloved hand, Westjer drew a businesscard from his coat and set offered it to her.

For a moment, Westjer's eyes floated to one side, drawn to something. He met the gaze of the Val Halcard, no doubt hard at work with a glint of opportunity himself, and responded to his nod in kind. A connection with such a well-connected man would not go astray, especially not with the planet on the cusp of a half-baked revolution. Yet it was a fools error to ignore a primate with a weapon. All the more reason to promote stability.

 

[Westjer Airijac]

Image source: [Franklin Chan]​

The excited shuffling of the evening's debutantes and their escorts, barely concealed behind the air of calm professionalism which they all endeavoured to display, betrayed what was to shortly follow. With a gentle electrical hum, the loudspeaker system came to life.

"Honoured guests" the voice began, cool and smooth as it projected over the rooftop mansion and gardens alike. "Thank you all for your kind patronage this evening. Mr. Dionryd Nellstr will give his opening address in the entrance hall momentarily. Please feel welcome to enter the hall at your leisure, so shall the event begin."

As the voice announced his arrival, Mr. Nellstr slowly descended from the winged staircase to where he might take a post overseeing the evening's guests. Mr. Nellstr, formerly a senior CorpSec officer of District 13 and now president of the Corporate Security Ball committee, was an older man: his hair was gray and fading, his skin sickly, and his gait poor and supported with a firm walking cane. A pair of aides walked alongside him, on hand to support him should be require it. Yet his reputation, in many cases, preceded him: he was an outspoken supporter of the Corporate Authorities of Denon regime, and did much in his service both to CAD and to their predecessor to ensure their success and legitimacy. Even in his retirement, he continued to serve in what might well be one of the most anticipated events in Denon high society of each year.

Perhaps more pressingly, with Mr. Nellstr's opening address, the ball would truly begin. The debutantes were soon to finally make their entrance to high society. What alliances would be forged over the dance floor and dining table this evening? It was truly a world away from the troubles of the slums below, stars forbid anyone should be reduced to thinking of that this evening.

 

[Corin Trenor]

WAR ON THE SENATE II
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. 2
Dagon Kaze | Indirectly Westjer Airijac Marcella Fiora Gemma Hentz Val Halcard Braxton Holst Mercy

Eat each other alive? Yeah, that suited Corin fine. Then, maybe those worth a damn stuck on the streets, stuck in the filth can be free of all those toxins that set the circumstances for their lives. Foul men and women existed in all corners, that much Corin had come to learn on his own, but all it meant was that there were less innocents found in the crossfire once the truth settled on the worst of them. He buried all that hurt, cast aside the knife in his heart, the twist of the blade that hollowed a former version of himself.

He shuddered, a subtle twitch - a return to Denon was more difficult than he once believed.

"So," the Padawan said with a bid to collect himself, "Is there anyone specific that we're after now?"

Corin removed his eyes from the binocs and turned to face Dagon with a curious set of features.

 

[Marcella Fiora]

M A R C E L L AㅤF I O R A

'Ballad of a Thin Man'
Location: District 19 Rooftop, Denon
Objective: Attend the Ball as the Director of Acquisitions of Moonveil, Inc.
Tag: Val Halcard, Dagon Kaze & Corin Autem, Westjer Airijac , Braxton Holst & Open!​

---

An Interesting Turn
Marcella listened attentively to Val, offering polite smiles, lightly chuckling at his first comment and taking sips of her Alderaanian wine. Val was a smooth-talker it seemed, as would be expected for a self-proclaimed 'Speaker.' She was about to respond before an imposing gentleman stopped by to greet the pair;

"Forgive me for the interruption, Mr. Halcard and Ms. Fiora." Westjer interrupted the conversation for a moment, briefly standing adjacent to the pair. "Please remind me to introduce myself properly to you both this evening - and please, enjoy!"

Marcy' again offered a polite smile with a friendly nod, "A pleasure," her eyes flickered back to Val Halcard as the man meandered off into the crowd to conduct his own business. After a few moments they were interrupted again by a particularly suave individual who offered a comment to Val in passing;

"You might be punching above your weight class here, Val." He commented with a charming smile as he passed the man. "Ma'am." He greeted Marcella with a nod, his bodyguard doing the same.

An eyebrow was raised at Braxton Holst 's comment, yet Marcella remained silent, opting to take it as a compliment if anything

else. As the fellow and his guard passed she offered a grin and a nod as they moved on, choosing the polite path as picking fights wasn't a particularly efficient way to find business as an outsider.

As the interruptions, although welcomed, ceased to continue, Val had turned his attention back to her, and spoke about what was on his mind, 'My~ quick to the point'. She listened carefully, interested in what he had to say; Marcy' had been briefed on Denon and it's Darkwire 'terrorists,' a word which she believed was often used too sparingly, information wasn't difficult to come by on the group as news travelled quickly on Coruscant, with it being the capital of the Galactic Alliance.

Marcella played it safe, "Ah.. I'm afraid I know so little about Darkwire, only hearing contrasting information from the news outlets?" she began, now taking a puff of her cigarra. The mention of Jedi had put her on edge a bit, space wizards made her nervous as she saw them entirely as an impulsive collective of individuals with no differentiation between the various types. Marcy' moved next to Val, joining him in looking out into the crowd, "What does this mean for both you and your business then? Not much you can do apart from fight or leave Denon, and I'm expecting that both options are not ideal.." she narrowed her eyes, opting to be honest and straightforward in response to his candid demeanour; eager to see what he was getting at.

She took another drag of her cigarra, this time a deep puff, slowly releasing the smoke. After a few moments, a voice emanated from the loudspeaker system requesting everyone's presence in the entrance hall, "We'd better shuffle along," she began, starting to move towards the mansion, "We wouldn't want to be missed," she smirked modestly, keen on continuing their conversation inside..

 

[Braxton Holst]

TAGS: Marcella Fiora | Westjer Airijac | Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor | Gemma Hentz | Mercy | Val Halcard | Gorba the Hutt | Hacks

The mention of Darkwire drew the man's attention very quickly. Looking over to Val and Marcella, he listened in on the conversation for a moment. "Pardon me, Mercy, I'll be back. My bodyguard can keep you company in the meantime." He excused himself... with great timing as well. The last thing he needed was to be stuck in close proximity with a Hutt while trying to eat. His bodyguard, though, was not so lucky to excuse himself. The Pureblood stood in place with a plate full of food, simply glaring with silent horror at the Hutt's questionable table manners. "Come on, boss, why're you doing me like this?" He grumbled to himself as he watched Braxton walk off.

"Darkwire, my dear Val, is an opportunity!" He spoke up as he reached the man, sliding an arm around his waist as he gave the man a smug grin. "I should kick your ass for skipping on that buffet invitation I sent you last week, by the way." He muttered, retracting his arm to instead give the tall man a light nudge with his elbow. "A pleasure to meet you, miss Marcella. Braxton Holst." He introduced himself with a nod before popping a cocktail sausage into his mouth. "They have made it clear to us that we have been stagnant. Got comfortable, taken liberties, while we should have been working and progressing. Darkwire will be a problem in the short term, but in the long term they will be able to open plenty of opportunities for us. Hell, I daresay that it might even be lucrative to help them in some situations. Though... I wouldn't talk about all of this too openly." He nodded to the cyborg figure of Hacks sitting only a stone's throw away from them. Normally they'd be out of earshot, but with people like her, it was hard to know what their augmentations made them capable of.

The announcement echoed overhead and he looked to the rest. "Well, let's go see what they have in store for us. Oh, and Marcella, I hope we can have a chat later, I'm rather curious about what your company does exactly." With that, he moved with the rest of the crowd into the entrance hall.

 

[Gemma Hentz]

"Of course," Gemma said, smiling when Westjer mentioned acts of community service. She offered the man an amiable nod. "Thank you," Gemma said, lifting her flute for another dainty sip. "I'll keep your offer in mind." It was always a good idea to have a vast network of connections.

Her eyes shifted away when a voice announced the beginning of the night's events.

"It was nice speaking with you, Mr. Airijac," Gemma said. "Have a lovely evening."

With that, she started to move with the crowd that filtered into the entrance hall. By the looks of it, everyone was more than ready for a night of dancing. However, her own mind wandered…

Business was never far from her thoughts.

Marcella Fiora | Westjer Airijac | Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor | Mercy | Val Halcard | Gorba the Hutt | Hacks
[occ: sorry, I'm so slow!]

 

[Cal Halcard]

Location: Denon
Objective: Make a good impression
Tags: Dagon Kaze / Corin Trenor / Gemma Hentz / Gorba the Hutt / Westjer Airijac
Interacting with: Marcella Fiora / Braxton Holst

"The media outlets are as trust worthy as a sith, all they do is speak the negatives and ignore the positives" he said with a roll of his eyes, not bothering that her smoke was going into his face. Deciding to take another sip of his drink he kept his attention on Marcella's pretty face, nodding slowly to her next question about the business on Denon "I'm afraid not, I predict protests worldwide will begin soon with the rise of Darkwire and their terrorist schemes. Soon, it will be unprofitable to stage a corporation on Denon, and that will in turn ward away any potential clients",

Val downed the rest of his drink and heard the calling an an announcement over the speakers "Of course, after you miss Fiora" he said with a warm smile as he let her go first before walking beside her with his empty drink in hand. He seemed like he was about to say something until an arm was suddenly wrapped around his waist. Braxton... who in Denon's name invited the loopy old man here? it didn't matter in the end, he was still a key connection either way "Ah yes, my apologies Mr Braxton, an unexpected emergency came up I had to deal with" The man lied, instead he was having a nice night in with one of his business partners, who believe it or not was a female high up in the arms trade industry. He had to admit, that was one wild night...

"I'm afraid I must disagree with you, Braxton. Darkwire are a long overdue pest that need to be taken care of as soon as possible. They are doing tremendous damage to businesses as well as scaring my partners away to different planets in fear of getting their life's work getting blown up, quite literally I must add. They cannot be trusted in the long term Mr Braxton, they will just want more and more" he said with a shake of his head as they moved inside with the rest of the group.

Giving a respetful nod to Braxton, he quickly leaned into his ear to add a parting message "Stay in touch, we must discuss some prospects soon" he said, giving a short wave as he left the two behind.

"Braxton is a good man, I've know him for a short time now and he knows how to business on another level. I suggest going to speak with him, you don't want to make the same mistake as me." he said, putting his drink on an empty table and folding his arms.

"So, Miss Fiora. Why are you here, is Moonveil making a move on Denon? or are you simply scouting for contacts like I am"

 

[Mr Black]

Location: Arriving at District 19 a rooftop mansion
Objective: Mingle, Attend Ball
Tag: (Open for Tags)

Two sleek black and silver, Over Avarice Limousines, hovered onto the pad, one for Black's Apex Security detail, one for his personal entourage. Through the tinted window they showed a vision of low-lit smooth elegance and luxury. "How do I look?" Inside, he opened out his arms, with his female assistant adjusting the tie. "You'll do." The doors opened up and out came seven individuals, two front, two rear, and two at his side. The rest of his near two dozen security detail would be waiting with the limousines, which hovered away to be parked nearby.

In sharp a Visgura thread modern fit suit, buttoned at the waist, dark grey with a black shirt and tie on. Leaving room to breathe over the slimmer fit styles, while still having their contour nature. Its valuable cuff-links were a dark fire node gemstone and subtly shone when catching the light. Most Apex security was smartly dressed in a black uniform, suitable for corporate events like this, none wore a helmet or anything bulky and the fabric or visors looked presentable. His two assistants broke the standard, one blonde Hapan female had a silver, off-shoulder Bardot dress which seemed to have patterns within patterns, and be adorned with subtle silver gemstones of its own. While his male assistant wore a dark single-breasted suit, buttoned up. Of course, all wore some form of subtle protection, and many including Black wore wrist devices, indicative of someone who had fingers in the arms trade.

They'd just entered as the speech was given. A scheduling conflict kept him fashionably late and he was promptly escorted to the main hall. Not that his assistants would ever leave his side, even if the other four security made themselves less visible, they all had eyes on him. Black took a place somewhere toward the rear of the hall, if there were comfortable chairs he took one, being sure to check the latest financials on his wrist device while they waited for others to enter.

Buffered by his expensively attired assistants, he turned to whoever was closest to him and introduced himself. "Balen Var Black" Shaking hands with anyone nearby, a firm handshake, not held too long.

 

[Marcella Fiora]

M A R C E L L AㅤF I O R A

'White Rabbit'
Location: District 19 Rooftop, Denon
Objective: Attend the Ball as the Director of Acquisitions of Moonveil, Inc.
Tag: Val Halcard, Dagon Kaze & Corin Autem, Westjer Airijac , Braxton Holst & Open!​

---

Straight to the Point
As Braxton Holst intervened, seemingly appearing at the mere mention of Darkwire, Marcy' was curious as to what he had to say, she listened intently to the pair who discussed the underground organisation, seemingly with a large degree of knowledge~ more than the rumours she had heard.

Oh, and Marcella, I hope we can have a chat later, I'm rather curious about what your company does exactly.

"A pleasure, Mr Holst," began Marcy', offering a smile, "I'd appreciate that very much." As he walked away and the pair followed the crowd into the hall, Marcella and Val continued their conversation; "Noted, he seems like a useful contact.." she initially

responded, taking a puff of her cigarra as Val continued their discussion, "Mm, both! Simply looking for expansion opportunities, Denon seems.. promising~ especially for setting up communication networks," she continued, opting to be straightforward with him, "We've been looking to diversify our geographical portfolio for some time, more systems to add to our lists.. even with the emerging presence of this.. Darkwire."

Marcy' paused for a moment as they entered the mansion, taking in her surroundings and butting out her cigarra before dropping it on one of the nearby tables~ a polite gesture as to not smoke out the hall. She once again turned to Val, this time speaking in a much more hushed tone, "Say, you say you're a speaker of manufacturing and technology; what does that entail for you?~ I believe we share roughly similar departments," quizzed Marcella, out of sheer curiosity as she was in charge of investments, holdings and manufacturing within Moonveil, Inc.

 

[Westjer Airijac]

Mr. Westjer Airijac
Chairperson, [ÆM Conglomerate]
Moving from the dining hall to the entrance hall
Tags: Gemma Hentz​

"It was nice speaking with you, Mr. Airijac. Have a lovely evening." Westjer bowed his head at the prompt to end the conversation, with a warm smile.
"The pleasure was mine, Ms. Hentz." Behind his warm smile, Westjer made a mental note of the timely end to the conversation. The introductions had perfect decorum, the points were made, and then it was politely ended before it had a chance to become stale. Furthermore, it was respectful for both of their evening plans; no doubt they both had them, just like everyone else in attendance. Perhaps the scum of the lower districts didn't think too hard on the minutia of conversation. Not that they would ever understand the complexities of their betters.

"Please, enjoy your evening." Westjer lifted his head as he turned to leave.

With the gentle thud of his polished shoes against the warm-colored carpet, Westjer began to make his way towards the entrance hall, in time for Mr. Nellstr's speech; but as if he'd forgotten to pick up milk on the way out of the supermarket, he abruptly stopped, turned towards a CorpSec attendant, and leaned into their ear where he could lower his voice. The mysterious card made its way from Westjer's jacket and into the attendant's hand.

---

Image source: [Franklin Chan]​

Mr. Nellstr's speech went to great length to say so much yet mean so little. True to form, the old man was prone to rambling. The crowd was a little more dense and lively at first as many of the evening's honored patrons arrived to make their signs of respect to their host. Alas, as the show limped on to no great effect, the edges of the crowd slowly grew thinner at as quick a pace that would not be rude to their host. All the worse that he dared not mention the topic lingering on everyone's minds: Darkwire.

With the invitation for the guests to proceed to the dining hall to be seated and begin to enjoy the evening's many coursed degustation to accompany the debutante ball, the crowd rose into a chorus of polite applause. It was, in no short measure, a show of respect for their host. Likewise, it was also in no short measure a celebration of it being time to sit, eat, drink, and watch the young scions of society make their grand introduction and first connections. Yet as many guests began to make their way to the main hall, the very same young attendant who took the card from Westjer earlier began weaving through the crowd and politely interrupting select guests. Each was almost the same: a humble request of their company in one of the rear rooms of the estate, to discuss the unfortunate implications of the terrorist declaration. Dare it be said, the true topic of the evening.

---

Mr. Westjer Airijac
Chairperson, [ÆM Conglomerate]
In a dimly lit backroom
Open invitation to all attendees of the thread to join the discussion if you would like to!​

With a fresh tumbler of foreign brown liquor, Westjer let out a quiet sigh as he let himself sink into the plush leather chair. An attendant - this time merely a hospitality contractor - cut the end off a cigar before leaving it on the coffee table next to Westjer. Westjer thanked and dismissed the attendant both with a brief nod, where the attendant promptly removed themselves from the room. With a gentle sweep of his head, Westjer admired the meeting room. Every detail from the floor to the roof was immaculate: the stained wood walls and roof, with matching furniture in the same stain of wood and complimentary brown leather alike; the chandeliers, which almost seemed to dance with the wooden details and framed paintings on the walls; the fireplace, which gently crackled with real imported wood; and no doubt, the pair of liquor cabinets on either end of the room.

As Westjer enjoyed the first mouthful of the liquor, he couldn't help but reflect on how wide a net he had been forced to cast with this meeting. While he certainly fancied himself an influential man, he was not nearly so influential that he could single-handedly secure a meeting room at the CorpSec ball. Funnily enough, with the terrorist declaration, these rooms were booked out well in advance. Deals had to be struck. Representatives, relatives, and associates alike of wealthy benefactors and executive competitors ahd to be offered invitations to the conversation, so that they might represent their own interests and make their own mark on Denon; many of which Westjer had never met. But alas, greater things were at stake. With all this "terrorist" business, the bottom line was at stake. So Westjer struck his bargain with his betters and booked the room on their compromised conditions. He only hoped that the conclusions would be mutually beneficial - and that the doormen didn't let just anyone in.

 

[Hargo Zur]

The events of the evening had been... Disappointing, to say the least.

Other than the occasional exchange of pleasantries, Commander Zur had generally kept to himself - content to simply witness the unfolding "party"; if it could be called that. Instead of a meeting of CAD's best & brightest, and an opportunity for Capital Security to show its might, very few District Captains or Commanders deigned to show their faces.

Perhaps, Zur considered, it was that these "Corporate Celebrations" were thought of as pointless lip service - a political play for credits & empty vows of support. In the past, that might have been true... But now? With turmoil breaking out in the streets? Riots, attacks upon the Corporate Authority & his own Organization?

It was enough to make his blood boil.

The speech was quaint. Mr. Nellstr's ramblings droned on, and Zur could have fallen asleep if he weren't so angry. In his private viewing box, District 7's Commander swore to himself - eliciting a worried glance from his assistant, whom Zur ignored. Upon the speech's conclusion, the Zabrak Commander's sharp teeth chewed at the corner of his lip; drawing blood, which he likewise ignored. As the evening's meal was served, Zur would noticeably not take part. The truth was, he despised the food they served at these parties. He preferred the taste of raw meat, and the cooks always scorched whatever flesh they served.

Upon being approached by one of the attendants, Zur leapt from his seat with force - which might have been surprising, considering the bulk he carried about his midsection. Without a word, he followed the attendant out into the hall.

Commander Hargo Zur, self-titled "Warden" of District 7, entirely ignored the doormen standing watch outside the private meeting room. He strode directly past them as-if they didn't exist, aggressively shoving the door open with two stiff arms. The look in his eyes would have been frightfully intense as he strode into the center of the space, directing his gaze toward Westjer Airijac - the host of tonight's event & organizer for this private meeting.

"Finally." The Zabrak snarled, "I couldn't stand listening to another moment of that man's voice. "Protecting the glory of the Corporate Authority", my backside! Nellstr wouldn't know what it means to lead if he was put in charge of younglings!"

The well-dressed Zabrak stopped in-front of Westjer, crossing his powerful arms over his chest and glaring at the man - clearly attempting to start a fight.

"While my officers are dying on the street, you're sitting here drinking." He pointed out disdainfully.

"Where are my karking Captains?"

"Where are my counterparts, the other District Commanders?"

"I was told this would be a CorpSec Ball... but at this point in time, I've seen more suits than badges!"

His voice had been slowly rising in volume, and his fists were clenched - as-if he were about to reach out and smack the glass from the man's hand. The CorpSec Commander had a history of violence, and it was entirely possible he'd do so.

 

[Lucia Ives]

L U C I AㅤI V E S

'Essaim'
​

Tightening her collar in the elevator, Lucia reminded herself how much she despised these events~ a parade of endless wealth and empty promises in support of the organization that she lived for, fought for and represented this evening. She endeavoured to avoid attending tonight's event, yet she had been unable to escape the seemingly endless waves of affluent corporate representitives at the behest of her boss, District 7 Commander Hargo Zur .

As the elevator opened, Lucia darted through the thick crowds, making her way to link up with the commander. There was a distinct lack of CorpSec command present, yet a number deputies that surrounded and mingled with the wealthy denizens, all too gleefully. Her uniform suit pristine, sporting the black and red theme of CorpSec, Lucia had regrouped with Hargo just as he entered the backroom~ like clockwork.

"Boss." she entered the private room behind him, standing off to one side as to not attract the rage of the Zabrak, it wasn't a good idea to get on the his bad side, especially as he controlled her career. As she stood off to the side, she said nothing, offering only vacant yet aggressive stares to those within and those entering the room.

Westjer Airijac , Hargo Zur

 

[Mr Black]

Tag: Lucia Ives | Hargo Zur | Westjer Airijac

Black got the invitation whispered in his ear as he watched the hall filling, considering whether to join the gathering below or stay to mingle. Fixed by his immediate security detail, he again walked arm in arm with his blonde Hapan assistant. Making his excuses as people stopped to talk to him, swapping details and quick handshakes. Seven of them heading down in the elevator didn't say much, this sounded like an important meeting to attend, not to speak at.

Walking down the small hallway they looked like a celebrity entourage, still two front, two sides, and two rear. Reaching the doorman he had a few words about exactly how many he was willing to let in when Apex got there, there might have been a bribe to get his two assistants plus one in, who could say. Further words were exchanged inside about who was about to enter to confirm it was okay, assuming it was….

Flanked either side by two very well-dressed individuals, one male, one female, ahead a smart Apex corporate security officer dressed in a black uniform, opened the doors, and looked around, speaking into a wrist device that they were clear to enter.

The doorman was joined by another Apex Security officer, two remained by the elevator and only the most senior came inside. The infamous black briefcase was carried by his male assistant, which was full of surprises. There were also very expensive cybernetics on the two assistants, assisted optics, assisted hearing, sense of smell you name it. Subtle and expensive, some upgrades were concealed beneath notice but not entirely. While Black's beautiful female assistant looked like arm candy, she was perhaps the most intelligent and lethal one walking in the room. How she walked, carried herself, where she looked, where she stood. It might take an agent to see it, Lucia Ives .

"While my officers are dying on the street, you're sitting here drinking."
"Where are my karking Captains?"
"Where are my counterparts, the other District Commanders?"
"I was told this would be a CorpSec Ball... but at this point in time, I've seen more suits than badges!"

Entering in just at the right time to hear Hargo Zur make his point. "Our suits heard you have a pest problem." Black looked around, "Apex would like to help." Nothing was ever free of course.

 

[Cal Halcard]

Location: Denon
Objective: Make a good impression
Tags: Dagon Kaze / Corin Trenor / Gemma Hentz / Gorba the Hutt / Westjer Airijac
Interacting with: Marcella Fiora

"I see... Denon can be great for those two things. But as I've mentioned before, things have never been uncertain with how the Galactic Alliance have been snooping around because of Darkwire speaking up about "Injustice" on Denon. How cute." he grunted with a shake of his head as they made their way inside of the mansion. It was clear Westjer knew a thing or two in making an apartment look like a spectacle, that was something he could respect from a man of his calibre.

They both stopped within the mansion and looked at each other, his eyes glaring into hers as she spoke to him in a more hushed tone. As the host of the party started his magnificent speech, he lowered his voice and put two hands into his suit pockets "I believe we do miss Fiora. My work is quite varied, but my body body is within that sector. Guns, armour and next age technology is something I take special interest in. With my own business deals on the side, I now have the opportunity to go after the ones that intrigue me most instead of what provides the most profit. Even so, they are more likely to be a credit grab in the near future. And as you guessed, Moonveil and their projects have caught my attention"

Val was more than confident Moonveil were going to be a top player in the galaxy in the distant horizon. With his help, he was sure to make enough money to last a lifetime as well as bring them to the level they needed to be. Not only that, he was also quite attracted to the woman beside him. The crafty businessman knew himself that came last, so he'd have to play the slow game for now

"Say, I must admit you have come prepared tonight. Some of the women here look like they've just brought their clothes from the nearest credit saver..."

 

[Marcella Fiora]

M A R C E L L AㅤF I O R A

'Cheers Darlin'​

Out of the blue, the pair had received an invitation of some variety from a young attendant who appeared to be picking out a select number of people, curious that someone so new to the Denon corporate scene should be privy to such auspicious events.

Opting to listen to Val over the rambling orator who provided a performance-like speech to the denizens of Denon's finest, she remained engaged in their conversation, curious as to what he had to say. It appeared that they shared similar interests, to her surprise; "Mm, lovely.. you're quite lucky to have the freedom to do that," she paused as Val seemingly became more interesting the more they talked. His final point, however piqued her interest, "Our projects?" she raised an eyebrow at the tall gentleman, "You sure do know a lot about us," she quipped, growing more curious about his intentions.

"Say, I must admit you have come prepared tonight. Some of the women here look like they've just brought their clothes from the nearest credit saver..."

'Mm, join the queue!'

A coy smirk was all he'd get as she meandered off towards the meeting room off to the side, playfully avoiding responding to his comment. She turned around as she continued to walk, "You comin'?" she grinned, intrigued at what the meeting would bring and whether he'd be polite enough to join her.

Upon arriving at the door, she handed her invitation to the doorman, keen on entering to see what's going on. On entry, she felt as if she has intruded as she walked in on an angry, repulsive Zabrak blasting his guts out, a creepy CorpSec agent who offered only aggressive stares, another corpo and his entourage and the host of the party~ an intriguing selection of individuals so far.

Taking a look behind her to see if Val was still following, she pulled a face of jovial concern as if to let him know what was on her mind. Not wanting to engage the wrath of the mildly terrifying CorpSec official, she simply handed nods of acknowledgement to Westjer Airijac and Mr Black , should they pay any attention to her.

Moving further into the room, she moved down the table to select a seat~ yet she remained standing as if to wait for Val to catch up..

Val Halcard, Westjer Airijac , Mr Black , Hargo Zur , Lucia Ives

 

[Westjer Airijac]

Mr. Westjer Airijac
Chairperson, [ÆM Conglomerate]
In a dimly lit backroom
Tags: Marcella Fiora Hargo Zur Lucia Ives Mr Black Val Halcard - open!​

For a blissful, lingering moment, the tension began to fade from Westjer's shoulders. He was alone, with a cigar and a glass of brown liquor, in a lavish backroom of a decadent mansion, with only the plush leather of the couch beneath him to keep him company. There was an undeniable knot of anticipation lingering in his stomach, one born from being off of the front foot with half a guest list that he didn't know enough about, but that came with the territory of these risks. The maths was clear: if it went even only somewhat well, the return on investment would be positive. After enjoying a mouthful of the liquor and its subtle flavours and spirit tingle, he set both the tumbler and his walking cane down to take the trimmed cigar in one hand and a lighter in the other. Slowly, but eventually, the broad end of the cigar began to flow the familiar orange.

The blissful moment ended all too soon when the double doors to the room crashed open. Westjer was quick to lift his head, to identify what may well be a threat while carefully maintaining his "relaxed" demeanour, which had very suddenly joined the ruse that was the rest of his performance for the evening. The knot of anticipation twisted into something more sinister. He knew all too well that he was alone, with only the posted CorpSec guards at the door. It was in this doorway that he met the pinning gaze of Commander Zur, promptly followed by Lieutenant Ives. Two further observations quickly passed through Westjer's mind: that this explained why the guards were useless, and that he was alone in a room with a violent CorpSec commander who he had not lobbied overtly in the past 3 months. "Inconvenient" was certainly generous description of Westjer's conclusion.

Westjer listened to Commander Zur snarl insults to Mr. Nellstr's name while he carefully positioned the cigar between his teeth to bring it to genuine life. Did Commmander Zur have social capital or spare or did he merely set low expectations, Westjer wondered. Gentle clouds of smoke wafted from Westjer's mouth and lose which all but vanished by the time they had reached the ceiling. State-of-the-art air filters and regulators to permit guests to smoke inside without ruining the furniture, no doubt. With the relaxed, unconcerned, and certain demeanour of a man that was not at risk of being assaulted, Westjer set the cigar in a nook of the ash tray and the lighter on the table, where he took his cane in his hand and refocused on Commander Zur. He knew all too well that betraying anything less than an aura of signature superiority would risk his social capital before the meeting even started. Yet, maintaining that without making an eager enemy - or being beaten, for that matter - would be the challenge. With a subtle motion of his fingers, not entirely unlike feeling the wood grain of the cane, he triggered an action that alerted the ÆM monitoring team tracking him through his cane. If he were to be unfortunately beaten, while the response team would certainly not arrive in time, he would like to at least have evidence.

"While my officers are dying on the street, you're sitting here drinking. Where are my karking Captains? Where are my counterparts, the other District Commanders? I was told this would be a CorpSec Ball... but at this point in time, I've seen more suits than badges!"

Westjer listened with a vague disinterest, one not unlike a parent reluctantly humouring a child's ramblings. He had to conceal his relief when witnesses entered the room - a Mr. Black and Ms. Fiona, the latter of which Westjer exchanged a glance in place of the more socially appropriate nod. While he was under pressure, it would have to do.

"Commander... Zur, was it?" Westjer began, the intent of his question betrayed by his now-faintly glowing eyes. As Westjer looked up at the no doubt intimidating Zabraki, he read the high-level summary projected within his cybernetic eyes of Zur's allies and scandals, courtesy of the monitoring team. "I'm afraid I don't know where your captains and counterparts are. After all, they are your captains, are they not?" Westjer paused to take the tumbler in his free hand, holding the conversation up to enjoy a small drink. "Your captains and counterparts were invited, but as of yet, only you have deigned to join us. Perhaps you might do well to ask them yourself, being your subordinates and your organization? Their presence at this meeting would no doubt be widely appreciated by us, suits." There was a certain venom on the last word, a daring undertone that threatened to meet Zur's intimidating aggression with a cunning spite. "And perhaps, Commander Zur, while you either follow up with your subordinates and counterparts or take a seat, you would do well to consider which company services a significant share of the medical and paramedical needs of the CorpSec presence in your district, and who has gone to great lengths to arrange this meeting at no cost to yourself for the benefit of yourself, and more broadly, CorpSec. In fact, I seem to recall investing a considerable deal of credits into CorpSec to arrange it. I wonder what that might be able to fund for your men, Commander?"

Westjer paused for a moment, looking with some humoured scorn at the Commander, before he suddenly directed his attention to the newcomers. To the well versed, this was no doubt deliberate: an attempt to seize the last word where there may be more to follow. Westjer took his tumbler back in hand as he stood up and began to walk past the two CorpSec officers and towards the other executives with a welcoming gesture of open arms. The tumbler of liquor rose in one hand and the walking cane rose in the other.
"Mr. Black, Ms. Fiora, welcome!" The sudden change in tone was comparable to whiplash, from inconvenienced to jolly in only a moment. "I'm so glad that you could both join us. Please, take a seat, help yourself to the liquor cabinets. There's much to discuss - what, with the unfortunate events of Darkwire and such." That had been undoubtedly one of the few times 'Darkwire' had been said out loud all evening, let alone at any louder than a whisper. Westjer remained standing for now, having tactfully put a couch between Commander Zur and himself in the course of the greeting.