The Shindig Job [The Kathol Outback and friends]

[Aithne Charr]

Solan smiled as his eyes stared at a man across from him, entertaining a few drinking guests while he sat there with the pot of tea hanging from a hook that he had borrowed from the Governor's staff. He watched [member="Bryce Bantam"] nod to him while he listened to those around him talk, his hand still sparking a small flame under the pot as who he was was no secret and he knew that. As far as people knew, Solan was a well enough face in the Kathol sector with no ties to the Outback or any other organization. He also was well known for attending these parties and as he sat there he could easily act as an assassin in plain sight.

He, of course, saw the young Redhead [member="Joza Perl"] as well, a second sparking for him to register that she was here and his eyebrow-raising. She was not someone that he knew was in the Outback and the fact that she was here shocked him quite thoroughly. Why was she here he wondered and then he looked to the side at the people she was talking to. She must be a member and he did not know about it, that was certainly going to be a conversation they would have later but for now, he simply let the thought float to her, a few words forming as they would meet her mind. 'Beautiful as always Red.' He smiled as his eyes returned to the pot and focused on those around him. Unlike the others, he was not so worried about finding those Q people. He didn't even have an indicator. Instead, he used himself as Bait.

Question, what was the single best moment for a possible assassin or spy. The answer, when two of your possible targets are gathered in the same place. While the governor was their primary target, solan was a well known Imperial sympathizer in the past and helped the Mandalorian Empire even now these days. Surely that drew the opportunity for possible recruitment to their cause, even if he had a problem with slavery. And with that in mind, there was the second part of his little plan when it came to those who tried to recruit him. Within his clothing was Kira, the Ashlan wolf that he so often brought with him and was small enough to keep hidden out of sight. Granted she was hiding at his feet, her body in the shadow thanks to her black fur. Why she was hiding there though was that she had in her mouth a small dagger coated in poison, giving her the opportunity to give someone a quick pinprick, as if bitten by a bug.

That was all the wolf needed to do while Solan sat there as bait, and so far only one Q person had come near him already off to the bathroom over food poisoning.

 

[Ria Misrani]

"Did you just, did you just say fertile?" Ria asked in the most, are you serious manner. "Where did my sweet and innocent young super doctor go?" She honestly wondered and then sighed, "right well if we're dancin' then we're puttin' on some Vertical City Swing, enough of this karkin' sleeper music." The blonde put her hand flat against [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]'s dress shirt, "and you're comin' with me big guy." First stop was by the band. Where she slipped out one of Gigi's go-to credit chips from her bosoms. "Guys, can you play somethin' with a little more life?" She then leaned in whispered, "just swing it up."

The manager was more than pleased to take the credits and gave a nod to the band. "Hit it."

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhyhP_5VfKM[/media]​

​

The music changed, and suddenly there were way more people interested in dancing, of course, your hoity-toity folks weren't all that appreciative. But this music wasn't for them, it was for all the young kids who weren't interested in standing around yappin'. As the tempo changed it became easier for the Underground runners to do their jobs, at least some of them anyway.

​

"Hope you got your dancin' shoes on, Nate." Ria took the bounty hunter and led him out onto the dance floor. Dancing with him wasn't so bad at least not once they got use to each other's heights and fluidity. "We got a live one over there, c'mon."

Swirling out of Nate's hand she was able to sleight of hand tag them with her own jury-rigged tag. "Excuse us, we just got married!" She'd say to them acting as if she'd had just a little too much to drink. Swinging back into Nate's arms she kicked up her moves. Hey, you didn't grow up around a buncha Cantina ladies and not pick up some actual moves. With all the folk who walked about Nar Shaddaa, Ria was smart to have picked up a few moves at least. As the wind and percussion instruments got into the groove she and Nate were able to tag another one. "Got one more."

[member="Solan Charr"], [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Runi Verin"], [member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Bexel"], [member="Matthew Robinson"], [member="Tilzi"], [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Nate Phantoms]

His impatient attitude towards life came back up, and he wanted to do.something...something stupid and not good...like kick out the classical musical artists here and get his guitar and rock out, but alas, that was terribly rude. With a sigh, he pulled off his suit jacket and rolled up his pink selves, reveling his muscled forearms, and the few scars he had. The music was making him nauseous... it wasn't really his type, but again... He would just have to put up.with It.

"I feel like dancing, you wanna take as spin at it Bryce?"

He smiled, it was indeed a funny thought, them dancing, holding hands as they twirled around the dance floor. That thought made him laugh, and he couldn't help but not laugh, it was just so ridiculous. But just dancing as a whole wasn't so ridiculous, and aske the remaining woman around him if they would want to take a Walt's.but then he felt Ria press her hand against his chest and lead him.out to the dance floor. He wasn't bad, he had took classes before, and done the occasional dance, and he was light on his feet so this was easy to him. But damn, Ria had some moves, and she was just a natural at making up stories that no one in their right mind would question., and it seemed so innocent, he nearly believed it. He smiled as he pictured them, married, now that was a sight to behold, especially since she was a whole foot shorter than him, and he had a girlfriend, now He thought about it... He realized that he really wouldn't mind marrying Ria, she was a great young woman, but he was here, now and he just needed this to go as smoothly and flawlessly as possible. Someone next to him said that he and Ria were such a cute couple, and he thanked them with a smile, but that smile disappeared as a more tipsy party goer decided it only fitting for him to chant "kiss" and shoulder Nate, who in turn gave him a withering glare, literally, his stare was like looking into the sun. But the glare went unnoticed as a few other partygoers took up the chant.

"Well I'll be, I was not expecting this... you're a great dancer Ria... but ah, good job tagging them, that was smooth"

[member="Bryce Bantam"], [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Matthew Robinson"], [member="Ria Misrani"], [member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Spoiler

http://www.aceshowbiz.com/images/wennpic/chandler-riggs-saturn-awards-2014-05.jpg

Never did Lok thought that he would dress up so fancy and classy like corporate executives, politicians, and all the people that go to exclusive balls and events. The youngster knew he was handsome and a looker whether it was his suit of armor or this outfit that Alec got for him. The moment he took of his beskar'gam and put the suit on him, he felt naked and odd just like his father whenever he took off his armor. The Mandalorian always wore his armor around the clock and already felt like another layer of skin. A skin of iron and steel.

As his comrades mingled, drank, gossiped, and danced, Lok was having a conversation with a group of men and was hoping that he'd get a lead on them with the sensors that Alec gave them. Alas, nothing came out of his mingling, and departed the group. Now how was he going to neutralize an agent without getting his suit and hands all dirty and bloody? In his pockets there were amounts of spice and that didn't mic very well with booze, now did it? So that was his plan: get the agent, get a drink, put some spice in it, and let the flow go. And he better have plenty of it because he was going to consume of it and maybe get a drink or two.

What can you say? He was a teenager that thought doing spice was cool since he spent many of his years with that cartel gang that he worked for in the Underworld of Coruscant.

[member="Kaili Talith"]

 

[Kaili Talith]

There were many titles she carried by herself. Technomancer, quartermaster, inventor, techfreak, but ‘formal’ was not ever going to be one of them. The headache from the last gala Kaili had attended still rung pretty fresh on her mind. The regrets, the pain as she woke up the day after and the day after that. The girl didn’t know her limits and she had paid for it in the only currency the galaxy had an abundance of; pain. It was enough for her to swear it off until later. She had no need for such self-indulgent pain and misery for at least another nineteen years and Allyson was well aware of this. It was hard for the Corellian not to be, it had practically been the wheezing mantra of a Kaili from not-too-long-ago.

“Remember, pinch me if I start drinking again.” The quartermaster said to her woman as she stepped up before the security guards to be let into the party inside. He ran a curious look up and down Kaili’s form as if she was a sore thumb. Which she was. She refused the dress this time. A leather jacket adorned her shoulders and under it was a half-buttoned tunic. The pants around her legs hugged her legs and the boots followed suit. Like the message from someone called ‘[member="Alec Rekali"]’ said, Kaili was from the outer fething rim. What did she care about how she looked?

It was a double edged question, in a sense. She never cared about how she looked. It just wasn’t her kind of worry.

“You may step inside, ma’am.” The guard said and ushered the blonde and her date inside. “Ma’am.” He added for good measure as Allyson passed inside. With a slow shake of his head he went back to his job and Kaili led her date inside.

Today they were the distraction. Kaili hadn’t announced that to anyone, but they were. As far as capturing dangerous infiltrators and cunning backstabbers went she wasn’t overtly concerned. For as long as they kept her in the business of repairs she really had nothing to lose from it. Qektoth Confederacy or not. Besides, the easiest way to capture someone was to cause a scene. Anyone caught not staring at you was the man you needed, right?

Or maybe Kaili just really started to take to the idea of parties. Which for someone who used to be a hermit, could probably count as a pretty big step into a whole other world.

“Aaand we’re in.” Kaili shrugged and looked over at Allyson. “Do we get to work, or screw it and get drinks instead?”

Finger promptly raised, sigh taken in. “Right. No drinks.”

[member="Allyson Locke"] // [member="Lok Munin"]​

 

[Allyson Locke]

[SIZE=10pt]Another party, this time it was Kaili’s idea to go. Allyson took full advantage of the paycheck she had gotten from the Rekali Clan and bought a tight fitting black dress with a very exposed back. The idea was to keep Kaili Talith distracted from the alcohol and the drugs that would probably pop up in a place such as this. As much as she adored the Outback, she had grown attached to the Rogue Squadron and the Alliance. Wrinkling her nose, she wondered when she and Kaili had switched places. The blonde was the one that was very pro republic and pro jedi while Allyson was just trying to make a quick credit and get laid. Pushing the trival thoughts from her mind she ran her hand down the blonde girl’s leather jacket and searched for her hand. Finding it, Allyson laced her fingers with Kaili’s and held on. “Of course, you were such a baby after the Alliance Gala, I tried to stop you, but you let Asmus keep you going” There was a teasing tone with her words as she smirked and peered around the room.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Allyson continued to hold onto Kaili as she examined the room seeing familiar faces. She worked with the Rekali Clan which had some influence in the Underground with Alec. It was then, she had seen her in the middle of the small crowd. The woman was always easy to spot in a crowd, Allyson was good at finding her when she wandered back to Yavin rather quickly. Though the times that she had returned, Allyson was otherwise occupied. Eyes were locked on the ever so distant adopted cousin of hers, that Allyson forgot why she was here. A nip at her lower lip and she turned towards Kaili. The girl beside her in her own regard was just as attractive, but more so since well, Allyson gets to see her without the leather jacket at night. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“I’ll get me a drink and you’re getting soda with Cherry syrup.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt][member="Kaili Talith"] [member="Alec Rekali"][/SIZE]

 

[Tarok Vassket]

Across the crowd Tilzi had spotted her target. A young man, probably of a similar age to herself. He wasn't quote broad enough to fill out the shoulders of his tailcoat. He'd been attempting to surreptitiously watch her for the last minute. If she moved closer he might invite her for a dance. The dance had the participants moving freely across the floor, which meant she could get the scanner close to a lot of people in a short period of time.

Her plan was interrupted by a sudden and sharp buzz from the scanner under her sleeve. It was the man carrying a tray of drinks, had to be. She turned on her heel and followed and the sensor went off again as she closed on him. Tilzi looked up towards the crowd of Underground members and tried to indicate that she was tailing one of them.

---

Dassit Fawk looked around, but could spot her. The son of the Minister for Defence was certain that exotic looking creature had been heading in his direction. What an abject shame, he thought to himself.

"Mr Fawk?" a voice came from behind him. He turned to see two men he didn't know.

"Yes," Dassit replied.

"We were hoping we could a quick word in private. We represent the interests of the Confederation you see."

---

No one bothered Tilzi as she followed the waiter through a service door and down some spiral stairs. She fell back, following her quarry with other senses. If he was going down to the wine cellar she could incapacitate him and ask some questions.

She came off the staircase onto a long, dark, corridor. There were two doors on either side of it and no sign of the Qektoth agent she'd been following. Tilzi took the first door on her left.

It was indeed the wine cellar and the man she had been following was inside. As well as three other waiters. All eyes were on her.

"Close the door please," one of them said. Tilzi did as she was told. Using prey to draw the predator into a trap, that was something she understood all too well.

"If you boys could avoid the face, you see I haven't had a chance to dance yet," she said. Her left hand snapped open, green flames danced along her fingers.

One of the waiters pulled a carbine and raised it squarely at her chest. The green flames were extinguished. Grimacing, Tilzi reluctantly raised her hands. So they were happy enough to use technology when it suited them.

"Damn."

 

[punchsmith]

[member="Bryce Bantam"] || [member="Joza Perl"] || [member="Ria Misrani"] || [member="Matthew Robinson"]

Dev listened intently to Bryce's plan, sidling up into formation by Joza. It was simple and effective, at this point. The lead-up to this event for our protagonist was nothing short of a test. With the help of his underworld contacts, Dev created a dummy company and identity. The Truuvian Confederacy were likeminded in the ways of the original Qektoth Confederation. They believed in biological technologies, much like the Qektoth. But digging deep into the holosite one can gauge there was political play involved -- they never expressly say what it is they do.

The site kept it simple and malleable enough so that if anyone were to actually look up Bekesh Malistar, they'd find his basic identification and the site. This allowed Dev to make it up on the spot, with his eye on avoiding contradictions. Hopefully, the work involved to get to this dance would allow repeat performances.

"Just one. Are we here to disturb the peace," he offered in a hushed tone focused on the circle, keeping the accent and cadence of his cover. "Or are we here to prevent this rendevous from ever happening? Or yes?"

The music kicked up - a blessing and a curse. The volume of the room shot up to decibels not conducive to conspiracy. He was resigned in never knowing the full agenda so long as he got to eliminate some First Order scum and prevent their cancer from spreading across the galaxy. Taking Joza's hand, he cocked his head to his 9 o'clock towards the gathering that caught his attention earlier.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Most Jedi Consulars liked to go in the front door.

Announce yourself. Make your presence, and intentions, clear. They believed that the only position from which to negotiate was one in which all your cards were on the table for all to see, making it clear that you weren't attempting to deceive anyone about who you were or what you were about.

That was all well and good for hypothetical debates about how people should behave. It just failed to take into account how they actually behaved.

Plus, it was already well established that Sor-Jan was the worst Jedi Consular who had ever lived.

He'd slipped in among the servants hired and brought in to cater and service the gala. Dressed like a little bellhop, the young vampire stealthily moved through the shadows with all the grace of a trained Jedi Sentinel. A very rusty Sentinel, but a Jedi Sentinel all the same. You see, his own master had been a Jedi Watchman and so all through Sor-Jan's apprenticeship the expectation had been that he would become a Sentinel, as his master and his master before him. It had been a rather scandalous break from tradition when Sor-Jan had instead applied to Master Jocasta Nu to join the Jedi Consulars when he'd been knighted. But that didn't mean he'd forgotten where he'd come from.

Far from it, in fact. The behaviors and mannerisms he'd learned as the padawan to a Jedi Sentinel were often cited as what made him so incorrigible as both a Jedi and an Archaeologist.

While most were searching for the Qektoth agent or agents among the guests, the young Anzat had already identified at least one among the staff. Busing a cocktail table, the small Jedi was unobtrusively observing from a distance as he watched in hopes of discovering what contacts the man may have had at the party with him. Guests or other staff.

In fact, one such guest seemed to have taken an interest in the waiter. As the Anzati youngling surveyed the crowd, he now found himself watching a guest whose behavior seemed most interested in the Qektoth...

Wait, was that..? [member="Tilzi"]?

Ah, feth.

"You! Boy!"

Gorram, nerf-karking, sons of... "Yes, ma'am?" the youngling chirped sweetly, craning his head back as he turned to face the milk-curdling voice of maternal wrath that had just addressed him. A brief flash of pain stung the side of his head, as he was met with the light love-tap of a backhand.

...but that spidersilk glove though. Talk about soft.

"Do not presume to speak to your betters, child," the woman barked, as she tossed a champagne flute onto his bus tray in such a way that it tipped over and sent ice, backwash, and some kind of alcohol spritzing into his face. "Fetch me another of these... Ithorian starbusts," the lady demanded. When the boy didn't move fast enough, she clapped her hands together in rapid succession. "At once, or I'll have you..."

Wiping the spittle from off his face with the back of his sleeve, the youngling used the motion of retracting his arm to subtly mask the wave of his hand. "You don't want another Ithorian starburst," the Jedi intoned in a low whisper.

"I don't want another Ith..."

"You want to take a seat and think about how you treat others," the boy uttered, with no small amount of disdain for the lady. He'd gotten rather complacent and lazy as a Jedi Consular. If he was the youngling he'd been eight hundred years ago... she'd have gotten a lot more than mere suggestion from him.

As the lady plopped down into a chair, the boy looked around for a moment, then deposited his bus tray with the dirty dishes off into her lap as he surveyed the room for signs of the waiter he'd spied earlier.

The man wasn't to be found. Not surprisingly, neither was Tilzi.

Gods damned it, where did that Nightsister go?

...or was it sista?

He had the hardest time keeping up with the lingo of these younger races.

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Matthew Robinson"] | [member="Lok Munin"]​

​

It only took Runi a dozen or so steps before she came to the sobering conclusion that she, beyond a shadow of a doubt, had absolutely no idea how to mingle. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She understood the core principle of it. You moved around the room, generally in a clockwise fashion, affecting fake laughs at jokes that weren’t funny and making small talk that somehow didn’t bore you to tears. Maybe that was why everyone was expected to be unarmed at these things. If nothing else, it stopped them from decorating the walls with whatever mush passed for brain matter in these parts.

Small talk wasn’t something she had ever really covered growing up on Kol Atorn. Nor had it been in the crash course curriculum Jacaro Verin had provided. The best she could muster up were a few anecdotes about salvage jobs gone awry. Lately most of those seemed to revolve around some sort of creature, from Starweirds to the shambling undead, trying to interfere and otherwise disembowel her. Then there were tales of her time with the Mandalorian Empire. Neither of which really seemed appropriate for a party like this. Not unless that stark absence of tihaar suddenly corrected itself.

The fall back of simply smiling politely seemed to be out as well. Judging from how quickly the waiter she had traded her empty glass with had veered away, she still had a large way to go before she perfected that particular facial expression. Perhaps just as well. It had only been a few minutes and already her cheek muscles ached at the unnaturalness of it all.

Two more bubble-filled flutes later, she was almost willing to cut her losses and make her escape when there was a faint, yet discernible pulse in the core of her forearm. A slight tingling sensation as the sensor she’d concealed beneath the synthskin and metal frame of her cybernetic arm picked up a viable target.

“Oya.” She muttered to herself as she tried to discern the source, her gaze sweeping the crowds for anyone suspicious (other than herself) with an almost fervent ardour. The quicker she found and took down the Qektoth agent, the quicker she could get out of this dress and back to the Boracyk. Putting a few thousand light years between herself and this place would do wonders for her temperament. “Hut’uun, I know you’re here somewhere. Don't go all shy on me now...”

 

[Lok Xiangu]

If only the music was hip hop and the room like a nightclub, then the youngster would be having such a time. But no, it had to be some ball room with a full house of hypocritical politicians, and the music was being orchestrated by a band of those classy instruments that seemed like relics to commoners.

At least change the genre or drop an instrumental beat.

The only thing that he liked was this ridiculous suit and nothing more. Not even a girl of this type of class could entertain him and keep him from entering the horrible realm of boredom. If Lok were to enter that state, then he would smoke a little of the spice he has, take some shots, and then get back to work. As he continued to walk with his half empty glass of water, his infivacator started to beep. Finally, he was getting somewhere. He looked around as he walked and saw a familiar face: Allyson. And with someone, too. Was that a friend or a relative?

Out of notice he bumped into [member="Runi Verin"] and came back to his senses after gazing at Allyson. He nearly dropped his glass, but he did spill some water on the floor of the ball. "I'm so sorry, miss. Truly, I am," the youngster said in an accent that was just for cover, and acting as gentleman to Runi. The noise of his indicator slowly started to fade away which symbolized that he was getting colder. Unfortunately, he couldn't just dash off in a sprint to find the agent because that would just ruin the whole operation. Instead, he'd have to let this one go and act like he pertained to this class of people as he attended the woman that he bumped into which he wasn't familiar with at all.

[member="Allyson Locke"] [member="Kaili Talith"] [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Bryce Bantam]

BB was in full triage mode, well not in the medical sense more akin to prioritizing the situation and helping where he was needed. Everyone seemed to be pairing up except a few folks. [member="Runi Verin"] was doing her own thing but well out in the open so she seemed to be doing just fine. [member="Kaili Talith"] and [member="Allyson Locke"] had met up with [member="Lok Munin"] so all the new arrivals had seemed to find a friend. That really only left [member="Solan Charr"], who was just hanging and doing his Solan thing. [member="Matthew Robinson"] who BB knew after the battle of Dulvoyinn and Exocron was able to handle himself and great at making friends. Or [member="Tilzi"] a night sister who though an accomplished fighter had just left the scene though a servant's door, ALONE.


The Answer to BB's wonderings was pretty clear, time to "help a sista out."

"Matt, try not to any focus on the blonde's too much and stay sharp mate, we ain't the only ones hunting I'm sure," BB said as he gave his friend a brotherly slap on the back."

Entering the servants entrance shortly after Tilzi he couldn't see her but hear the click of her heels as she descended down a spiral staircase. Following semi close behind BB found a dark hall beyond. He couldn't spot her but he soon felt a strong force impression followed by a mechanical sound of a weapon being cocked.

"Kark their armed" BB though as he hurried to the source and blindly into the wine cellar.

"Poodoo, this isn't the bathroom, is it?" BB asked as he barged in on the proceedings.

The two were stunned for a second before the lead one spoke and aimed his carbine at the boy.

"Dr. Bantam, well if it isn't the boy wonder himself. Force Paul, this is going great, how big is the bounty on this one? Right, pretty high after that poodoo he pulled on Demonsgate. Two for the price of one."

"We aren't the people you are looking for..." BB said doing his best Jedi master impression.

"Stuff it kid, that Force control stuff ain't working on us." The second agent called Paul said.

"Didn't think it would, however, it did buy me enough time to find and engage the safeties on both your weapons. So Tilzi if you wouldn't mind taking these two out, I'm not really sure how long I can keep their weapons silent."

 

[Ria Misrani]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aH5aq4V0Ywk[/media]​

​

What is a party without a singer, and the band now presented a leading lady. The distraction offered Ria the chance to sleight of hand one of those walking patrol guards. She moved with Nate as they continued their ruse along the dance floor. "I've got a key card. We should be able to sneak into the back and give our friends a hand." She whispers, and she had heard those same chants the ones for them to kiss. "Now, now gentlemen. A lady never kisses in public, shame on you." Her voice was an octave higher and she smiled so pretty that they agreed. It also helped that her dress was lifted just a little, she moved in time with the beat.

"Let's just say I spent years in the Vertical City," She gave Nate a wink and watched the patrol's movements. Looking around Ria had completely lost sight of [member="Bryce Bantam"], [member="Matthew Robinson"], and [member="Runi Verin"]. She swore she caught a glimpse of [member="Lok Munin"] but with the dance floor getting as crowded as it was they were going to need a distraction, and one she hoped that Gigi would be able to provide, but where Gigi had gotten off to she hadn't a clue.

For that matter, where had @Julius Sedaire gotten off to? Kark, this was why they were the absolute worst about these kinds of things. Underground runners were terrible at coordination, but she noted that so long as they all had the same goal what did it matter? She moved with Nate as they turned around the dance floor, she squinted keeping an eye on the patrols. "I have an idea about finding the control room," Ria whispers into Nate's ear. Which admittedly was a little hard for her to do just as is, so she had to get him to dip her. She glanced up at the balcony and then over toward the darkened area of the ballroom.

She nudged Nate toward [member="Bexel"] and [member="Joza Perl"]. "Guys, I think I can manage a way into the control room, but we need a distraction, any ideas?"

[member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"].

 

[Kaili Talith]

“That wasn’t me, I keep telling you,” Kaili sounded almost frustrated. “It was the alcohol.”

Their hands locked together as they went walking through the crowds. All of them dressed in suits and dresses. One would think Kaili would feel like a sore thumb in a place like this but in reality it was pretty far from it. With the contacts she was wearing she masked the one feature that made her stood out the most: her eyes. The familiar orange hue that the people around her knew of had, for the evening, taken on a more vaguely blue color. It was a necessity for things like these. Even if Allyson made Kaili feel good no matter how she looked, the eyes were one of those things that just had to be taken care of.

A look went out to Allyson who was biting her lips, yet not really looking at Kaili. An eyebrow perked at that until Allyson finally turned her way, made it all the more obvious what Kaili was getting for the night. Sodas.

“Yeah, sure, great.” The kid said as a rather unenthusiastic mood fell over her. “Get me a swirly straw while you’re at it.” Sacrasm dripped. “If I get sodas, you should get sodas too. It’s just fair.”

The two arrived at the bar. Kaili leaned in for the bartender before Allyson had the chance.

“Hi, a Cherry Soda, thank you.” Then she looked over at her partner. “And one with… Apple for her.” Thumb ventured over her shoulder and pointed at Allyson before Kaili turned in full waiting for the ‘drinks’ to arrive. “You’re welcome.”

The smile widened on her lips, turning into a grin. “Now neither of us gets to have fun.”

Oh gosh. Parties brought out the worst in her.

[member="Allyson Locke"] // [member="Lok Munin"] // [member="Runi Verin"]​

 

[punchsmith]

[member="Ria Misrani"] || [member="Bryce Bantam"] || [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]

Dev raised a finger at Ria's request. "Allow me."

Releasing [member="Joza Perl"] 's hand, Dev drifted over to the ever-increasing circlejerk of biologically-inclined aristocrats and their counterparts. They were no doubt First Order -- resplendent with slickbacked greasy mops and slate gray tunics that turned the skin on their necks to a deep pink hue that sat in contrast to their pale complexion (rare for a denizen of Terminus). There were five of them, three Qektoth and two First Order, rarely laughing but enjoying a tense conversation.

Dev tipped the rest of his flute down into his gullet - liquid courage not required but no less welcome - and shouldered into the conversation. Shock and awe time.

"Excuse me gentleboys," Dev bellowed over the music, snatching a full flute from the First Order agent on his right. "I work for the Truuvian Confederacy, a boutique outfit specializing in more... specific biological enhancements. Any of you good brothers in the market to uh... up your game?"

His "up" was a profane gesture, with Dev raising his forearm to 90 degrees with a stiff fist to indicate a hardness that should tip anyone off. He stole a sip from the First Order Officer's flute before handing it back.

"Forgive me sir, I thought you were the help," Dev confessed, brandishing his handkerchief from a breast pocket and wiping the rim clean. "Here you are, good as new."

The handkerchief was dabbed in a clear, non-odorous slow acting toxin that would render its victim useless to the realm of the living within the next ten minutes. The Officer sneered at Dev and took a large sip of the flute, his eyes locking with the Agent across from him. The Without fail, the Qektoth agent to Dev's left responded. The man grabbed Dev by both lapels.

"We've quite had enough of your sham sheisterhood," He declared. Dev smiled to the other men with a shrug and offered a quick look to his company. Now's the time to misbehave.

He sucked in a deep breath, clenched his large fists against the Agent's wrists, and plunged his forehead deep into the bridge of the man's nose.

 

[Tarok Vassket]

[member="Bryce Bantam"]

Four mere men she could have handled. Possibly not without making noise or making a mess of her dress of course. When there was a primed blaster directed at the centre of your chest there simply weren't a great deal of options. Right before Bryce came in Tilzi had been wondering if they would simply put her down, or take her captive. Her eyes never left the carbine. The cellar was small, if the gunman had moved it off target she could have struck. She didn't know if Bryce was bluffing or not, but that muzzle was pointed to the side so the waiter could check the safety switch.

Two long strides crossed the space between them and she grasped the carbine firmly. Long legs straightened as she pressed up. The muzzle of the rifle struck the man's head with a crack that resounded around the small cellar. The second waiter manages to flick his safety back, but Tilzi swivelled on her right foot and delivered a brutal sweep with the left. The Nightsister immediately dropped after him, her knee coming down on his forearm until he released the gun.

Staying in place her left hand was suddenly engulfed in emerald flames again, and waiter number three was yanked back. There was a solid thunk as his head hit the wooden wine rack. The last Qektoth agent ran straight for the door and Bruce Bantam. He could look after himself, Tilzi was certain. She had questions for this one.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Runi Verin"]

She liked the Qektoth.

Completely amoral and driven to push the boundaries of science. Very ambitious too, considering they hadn’t had any qualms about picking up a few lessons in Sith Alchemy from… someone, she hadn’t figured out who gave them the knowledge yet.

But whoever they were, they were complete and utterly incompetent.

Oh, they had the basics down, of course. But they missed the entire point of Alchemy, of science and all those magnificent little parts that together fitted into the larger picture.

Instead they were just farting around and melding pure shet together.

Until it somewhat resembled an efficient killing machine.

Tasteless.

There wasn’t really a choice here, though. Cerita had been tracking down the target of her revenge for the past few weeks now and it seemed to end with the Qektoth… for now.

She wore a modest black dress, clean-cut and without too much frivolous lace attached to it. Easy enough to move around in and just stylish enough that the fashion-minded people wouldn’t complain too much about it. There was a drink in her hand and she was currently busy chatting with one of the patrons of the ball, at least until Cerita noticed something amusing.

Their eyes met and the green-skinned woman smirked, before gesturing with her head to meet at the balcony.

 

[Matthew Robinson]

[member="Runi Verin"] [member="Cerita Sarova"] (Matt's about to mess up some plans? 2 for 1)

Of course [member="Bryce Bantam"] got a ginger-mint. Had to hook up his mates. But his hazel-eyes were firmly set on Runi Verin. The medic liked to keep track of which Outbackers/Undergrounders were the most accident prone. He was pretty sure this woman made the list.

Something about blowing things up. Maybe.

Matt boldly and perhaps foolishly stepped up to her side, whispering only so she could hear. "Do you need help? Because I certainly do. My tracker's got a hit." He arched his head toward the kitchen. "In there. Join me for a tour of the kitchen, eh? Also, name's Matt. I prefer tea, not caf."

He winked, hoping he wouldn't get a fist to his already crooked teeth.

 

[Noah Bright]

Kitchen Entrance

A large black van pulled up to the side of the house and it's brake lights came to a halting jeer. The label on the side read, Tullies Vineyard. Oh. A wine delivery van then? Hmm. Funny that. ...I mean? Who delivers wine to a party that's already in full swing? Bah. Silly question. The easy answer was:

This guy,

Bright turned about in the driver's seat to the two tied-up fellows in the empty back of the van. Smiling at the fuzzy little Terminous gateway guards as they slept peacefully alongside each other. Knocked out and blissfully alone. Hands tied and mouth's duck taped super-shut.

"Well. Enjoy your evening boys. I'm out here."

He dismounted the van and closed the door. Pulling briskly on his tunic and brushing only the recent gate ker'scuffle of his brand new shoulders. Ahhh. Much better.

"Party time?"

Indeed. The Admiral had arrived.

...


Inside

Not but a mere moment later did Noah Bright slide right on through the busy kitchen freeway. Winking, nodding, and slipping easily right past the curtly workers and frilly foo-foos of chef's delight. In and out. In and out. Up and down the aisle ways too. Then out another entrance door to the kitchen's and the dapper young Bright was finally at the party proper. Excellent. Woo. Finally. Now the real spying could begin! Ah.

He straightened his dark bow tie and shuffled again his Q-sleighing pocket watch.

"Damn..."

Bright pulled himself in front of the mirror,

"...But really. Do I look good? Or do I look good? Rawr. Oh dear no no no... Behave yourself now Mr. Bright. You naughty naughty boy, you."

He straighten his tie to perfection and looked back at party in full swing.

"Ah. Yeah baby. It's go-go get'cha sexy time now. Rawr!"

His brown eyes flashed and darted towards the most buxum women in the room. Mmm. Yummy. One, two, three, oh...? Oh yes. Number four. Number four it was indeed. The old Admiral aimed all his turbolasers at a very particular blue Twi'lek woman across the floor and he approached at Lightspeed. Pew pew, goes the stranger-danger. But boom chick wow wow, goes the dynamite.

He set the Charm to stunning.

"My my. Hello there Countess. Might I... have this dance?"

"Oh? ...Oh my. Why... Ahem. Of course good sir. I didn't realize the Duke of Chutney was with us. Why. I would be honored. ...Shall we?"

"Let's."

Together they sauntered off to the dance floor and in shortest moment of a Gungan's first bright idea, tada!, ...soon they were dancing up a storm. Spins and frills, ducks and thrills. Trots and tromps, and a little tramp-trampling too. Mmm. Oh yes. Yes indeed. And soon his queer mind gave the first order of the night! Intensify forward firepower Lieutenant!

Because this tasty woman was definitely, a trap.

 

[Runi Verin]

The champagne must have been stronger than she thought; taking the edge that would have ordinarily reared its ugly head at such a collision. On Kol Atorn, if someone bumped into you like that, it either meant a knife to the ribs of a lifting of creds - not that they were mutually exclusive. Here, it merely served as an ill-timed distraction, the pulsing signal stilling as Runi’s target moved beyond the sensor’s meagre range.

“Ain’t worth concerning yourself with it, adiik.” Already being from the region, she didn’t bother to affect an accent in order to sell her role as some Outer Rim bigwig. She doubted anyone here would recognise the clipped, backwater tones anyway. It wasn’t the sort of planet you visited by choice. It was the use of mando’a was probably the real mistake. While you couldn’t toss asteroid in the region without hitting a planet with some history with the Mandalorians, recent or otherwise, it was hardly a language spoken in social gatherings such as this. “A little spilled water never hurt anyone. It’s forgotten.”

She might have used the word child, but in truth [member="Lok Munin"] couldn’t have been more than a handful summers younger than Runi. Around the same age she had been when Jacaro had left her to the wilds if she had to lay money on it. The thought alone bringing a rare, bittersweet expression to the woman’s features as she brought the crystal flute to her lips once more. A flash of green skin out of the corner of her eye stilled the motion, however, her gaze locking with a distinctly familiar set of eyes across the crowded room.

[member="Cerita Sarova"].

Her mouth compressed into a hard, thin line. It had been weeks since she had last laid eyes on the woman, having seen neither hide nor hair of her following the job on Tartaglia. It was a job that had very nearly cost Runi her life and, beyond a few new scrapes and bruises, one she had come away with very little to show for. Was it a coincidence she was here? Maybe. From what little Runi knew of the woman, which admittedly wasn’t a lot, Sarova was of the type to be right at home with the Qektoth and their First Order cronies. Even if it was a decidedly downward step from the (un)usual bevy of Tuk’ata that ordinarily kept her company.

Kark it all if this party was shaping up like the ghosts of jobs past.

“Don’t suppose you know where the nearest exit is? ” She flashed a small, mirthless smirk to her companion, taking a small step back towards Sarova and the balcony. “I feeling the sudden need for a quick exit coming o--- ”

Again she found herself being cut off by an unexpected presence pressing itself next to her ear. Her fist curled and her arm was already on the rise before she curbed the instinct, fighting back the very real and very strong urge to slug the interloper clear across the room, perceptions be damned. Only revealing he was also a fellow outbacker stalled the motion completely. Stalled being the operative word, for she had a feeling she would definitely be revisiting it in [member="Matthew Robinson"] 's not-so-distant future.

“The kitchen?” It might not have lined up with the ping she had received earlier, but it was better than potentially chasing phantoms all night. Cerita could stand to wait a spell in any event. The woman was far too used to getting her own way. “Guess I can stand to see where all that culinary magic happens.”