To Wear the Beskar [FO/ME]

[Madelyn Lowe]

To Wear the Beskar​

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Credit: "Cabin" by Sanchiko​

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The agent gathered her things, a series of papers, loaded into a leather bag by her side, stationary, cash, and keys. The absence of a weapon was uncomfortable to her. Her only connection outside of Mandalore was through a small datapad, encrypted and hidden in her bag. Whilst undercover, the lair provided some security, with encrypted radio, weapons, armour and specialised equipment. When the agent slipped out of the door, she had none of this.

She was travelling to MandalMotors. For a week she'd been embedded undercover within the company, attempting to get closer to the other employees, to tease out information. So far she'd had no luck. While she'd found some tidbits, the story was incomplete. More was needed if they were to understand these new Mandalorians. She closed the door behind her. Locking each of the three deadbolts with deliberate care. The apartment was 3 kilometres away, a drab, boring block of concrete that served as their hiding place. It was one of several safehouses used to house the small network of Security Bureau field operatives tasked with gathering information on the Mandalorian Empire.

As she closed the door, and her ride pulled up in the form of an inexpensive airspeeder, piloted by a charismatic Field Agent, she put on a pair of sunglasses and took her seat. Inside, the radio began to chirp, a bleating warning message followed by a level voice, betrayed by a hint of anxiety.
:: "Attention agents based on Mandalore. Supervisory Special Agent Rigby has been compromised. Agents stationed at MandalMotors beware of Mandalorian investigators. All agents will be extracted at the arranged point at 0400, two days from now. End of message." ::

Bureau Chief Emilia Ravel did not hear this warning, she was already in the speeder, hurtling towards MandalMotors, totally unaware things had just got a lot more dangerous. Inside, she would meet up with the group of 40 new recruits. A few of whom, her included, were actually First Order Security Bureau agents, implanted into the organisation, gathering information. Now they were all in danger. The capture of one of the operatives would put them all in danger, with increased attention and scrutiny from the MandalMotors staff, and even possible investigation from Mandalorian officials.

Unaware of the threat, Emilia walked calmly into the lobby, giving a smile to the receptionist as she walked over to meet with the group milling around, waiting for the work day to start. It was time to begin another day.

[member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Beskadala Ordo"] | [member="Quoron Viszla"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]​

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[Silas Mantis]

Telling a Mandalorian to take it easy may as well have been like singing for the deaf. Medicine had done its part to repair Silas' leg from the nasty break it had suffered, and some device attached to it kept things where they were supposed to be and afforded him the ability to walk normally, but he'd been instructed to rest. But he'd ignored that when some sort of spy was captured, that was a problem he could not ignore.

So now Silas and a team of beskar clad warriors were marching towards MandalMotors. Unlike the last time he'd been here, the building would hopefully remain standing, and he would be able to enter without blowing a hole in the roof and massacring all inside. Hopefully.

They weren't going to ask politely, or go through the necessary channels to get what they needed, they were going to march in and demand the records of the most recent hires of the company from off world. Whoever was at the top now would comply if they had a loyal bone in their body, which Silas could only assume they did since they remained on Mandalore.

It wouldn't take long at all before his search would be accelerated he suspected, the prisoner was likely receiving the finest 'accommodations' the Mandalorian Empire had to offer. They'd break, and then they would have the names Silas needed to know, and from there it would just be a matter of rounding them up and putting them down. But Silas had already begun to suspect petty criminals or dissidents, not the likes of the FOSB.

[member="Emilia Ravel"]​

 

[Orn'om]

"Sir, the Mandalorian Empire is requesting some documents...I've told them we can't just give them out but," a whisper, "They're a pretty big group."

Mandalorian Empire? Here? How did they find the leak so fast? Zeke cursed under his breath.

"I'll be right down." Right down was a bit of an understatement. He was near the top of the tower, it would take a few minutes, even with the turbolifts moving as fast as they did. They had picked the worst time to come. He felt he was on the verge of something incredibly important within MandalMotors' encrypted files.

As the lift doors opened at the entrance he was unsurprised to see Silas there, but also a little worried. The Mantises were brutal, even if he could take the boy in a fight he was flanked by several other Mandalorians. Best not to make a stink here.

"Silas Mantis, su cuy'gar. Why are you scaring our front desk? They aren't made of iron like the vode." He laughed.

[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

Had his face been visible underneath the helmet, one would've seen Silas' look of disgust when he laid eyes on [member="Zeke Farthen"]. Old wounds were supposed to be gone, the scars of the Civil War forgotten, but he could not so easily forget how MandalMotors had been the first place Monroe had run too after her botched attempt at claiming the title of Mand'alor. Farthen hadn't fought alongside the Death Watch, in fact Silas suspected him of aiding the Liberator, but that was all baseless speculation at this point.

"We've detained a rat, a new hire here from off-world. We have reason to believe there are more." Silas stated bluntly, shifting his body towards the executive, the menacing MF-44 shotgun hanging across his chest. "We need records of all your new off-world hires, vode will die if this not stopped."

As if Farthen cared.

[member="Emilia Ravel"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

As Emilia stood amongst the crowd milling in the lobby. Each day the new hire's would wait outside until their supervisor arrived to take them to whatever job they'd be doing that day. For the past two weeks, Emilia had been placed in the financial branch. It was dull work, boring administration that she was very good at. So good, in fact, that her supervisor had asked her if she had any previous office experience, even though her resume stated she had none. It was a careless mistake on her part, and from then on she resigned to fly under-the-radar.

Her datapad buzzed urgently in her bag, but she ignored it. Something interesting was unfolding in the lobby behind her. A group of soldiers, all clad in full Mandalorian Iron had barged in. By the lack of panic in the lobby, these were officials of the Mandalorian Empire. Though a few worried glances from a few off the staff indicated perhaps they weren't the most welcome addition. How interesting. A few moments later, the armed party were greeted by a corporate executive, who referred to the lead Mandalorian as [member="Silas Mantis"], though she didn't catch many other words. Emilia committed the name to memory. Whoever this Silas was, he seemed to carry some importance. Emilia's eyes narrowed for a moment as Silas began talking. It appeared one of their agents had been compromised, exposed and captured. Now the Mandalorians were here to root out the other operatives, herself included. It was a troublesome development, but it wasn't the end of the world.

Without really thinking, she approached the pair, emerging from the group of recruits. She put on her best doe-eyed expression, walking timidly towards the pair. She stopped just short of the two men, anxiously tucking a lock of her hair back for added effect. "Um... Hi." She stammered. "I'm Trisha, I'm part one of the interns. Uh... Our supervisor is late, and we're supposed to be working in finance today. Can you show me where to go?" In Emilia's gut, a different kind of worry was brewing, not the faked nervousness currently being exhibited by her character, but a real fear of the guns mere metres away from her. A part of her questioned the sanity of drawing the attention of a Mandalorian who wanted her dead, even if he didn't know it yet. But she was here on a mission, and she had to do her job.

[member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Zeke Farthen"]​

 

[Orn'om]

His red, mecahnical hand moved to his chin as Zeke feigned deep thought. Admittedly he was, just...not about the thinly veiled threats of Silas. They were looking for new hires, which meant they weren't looking for him. But what he said was troubling. Despite his own coorporate sabotage, another company or government that he wasn't aware of was trying to steal trade secrets. Or maybe they had some other objective. It wouldn't hurt having an extra pair of eyes on an investigation but that also meant eyes on other things. Fund transferes, holo mail, all things that could eventually lead back to him.

Saved by a breath of fresh air.

"Trisha! Fiiiinally, you're with me today." He draped his arm around her shoulders. "We've got a lot to do today off-site. If we don't hurry we'll miss our first meeting." He paused to look at the chrono integrated into his prosthetic arm. "Look, Mantis I'd love to help you out, but giving away that private information is above my or even Dorn's pay grade. Its against Intergalactic business law to do that, and a neutered MandalMotors isn't going to help the machine that is the Mandalorian Empire do what needs to be done. But it is troubling that we have a corporate spy trying to steal MandalMotors secrets but that is an internal issue. If we find anything I'll let you know."

With that, he started to lead Trisha away from the Mandalorian towards the double sliding doors leading out into the actual MandalMotors convention center.

[member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Baiko no Kaho]

It was a certain platitude for the Atrisian refugee that the Mandalorians, however loving to their families, were at most times, utterly insufferable.

Pair that insufferable cultural nature with Mantis DNA, and [member="Silas Mantis"] was both as impetuous as his older brother, and so exasperating for the Handmaiden-come-nurse that Baiko wanted to slap him across his rugged Epicanthix face.

Pity she’d have to stand on a box to reach it. Baiko wanted nothing more than to sit Silas in a comfortable chair with his leg up and make him a cup of calming tea... preferably with enough barbiturates to keep him there until the dashed leg healed. Alas, if deciphering a spy or two was all the fuss was about, Baiko supposed she'd do that too and alleviate the situation before someone started a second Civil War.

One was most certainly enough.

Dressed in simple Atrisian garb, the woman who walked alone into MandalMotors was as prim and proper as the Mandalorians under Silas’ command were itching to pull their collective triggers. She walked with her hands together, stepping in the way of [member="Emilia Ravel"] and [member="Zeke Farthen"].

“Oh! Silas, there you are!” One hand snaked out to ‘steady’ herself in her soft collide, touching on Zeke’s prosthetic arm.

“Intergalactic business law… your best defence is a flimsy agreement signed by seven worlds on ‘show me a warrant, lawman’? My dear sir, perhaps the situation has not rendered itself with sufficient clarity so I shall dispel the words Silas probably slurred… You said corporate spy… what on Manda makes you think the rat of which Silas speaks, a euphemism I'm told for a malicious foreign agent, is a corporate one? It seems to me that you underestimate the situation and releasing a couple of resumes isn't opening your books on that corporate holiday to Zeltron. Perhaps, however, this is one situation where you and… Trisha is it? May rather than creating an unholy hullabaloo in the front entrance, rectify by sitting in a private and pleasant board room? We could have tea. It shall only take the scantest of your minutes, Mr. Farthen.”

Prosthetics were inanimate. The untattooed Kiffar-Echani hybrid kept her face a neutral mask as her hand stayed on the metal as long as possible. Memories. Places the prosthetic had been…

Psychometry was a fantastic, and secret, gift.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Emilia gave a slight smile as the unidentified woman approached. She was pretty, with a kind face and gentle features, but something in the way she carried herself perturbed her. The wily Bureau Chief regarded the newcomer with immediate suspicion, noting that despite her simple civilian clothing she'd moved past the armed gang with ease. This wasn't a simple office worker. Her own features betrayed none of this. While the gears turned in her head, she turned her face slightly away, staring blankly out the window. While outwardly she appeared distracted, her ears keenly listened to what the woman was saying, the emphasis on her words, her thinly veiled intimidation. All of it told Emilia this woman was dangerous. She would have to tread carefully.

Seemingly snapping back to reality, Emilia locked eyes with the woman as she trailed off. She giggled, as if embarrassed. "Soooorry..." She laughed. "I guess I spaced out there." Hopefully, the woman would believe that she was as ditsy and harmless as she was pretending to be. If not, Emilia was in for a world of trouble. In her pocket her communicator buzzed again, likely trying to warn her of the danger that she'd already been caught up in like a fly in a web. What she had to do now was navigate her way out.

It seemed that the executive she'd approached was none-too-fond of these Mandalorian intruders either, as he went along easily with her prompt, seemingly welcoming the distraction from the confrontation with the shotgun-wielding Silas. With a private raise of her eyebrows at the executive, who she now knew as Mr Farthen thanks to the the unknown woman, she spoke again. "Aaanywayyy..." She forced her voice higher than normal, tinnier, louder, more annoying. "We're quite late Mr Farthen. Shouldn't we be going?" She finished with a beaming smile at the nicely-dressed newcomer, as if totally oblivious to the verbal confrontation that had taken place over the last minute.

[member="Baiko no Kaho"] | [member="Zeke Farthen"] | [member="Silas Mantis"]​

 

[Orn'om]

He flinched at the woman's touch. He hadn't even noticed the other woman.

"Its not flimsi, its the one thing keeping this city and others together. I lose trust of intergalactic lenders, I lose funding, directly translating into how well the Empire can continue growing. You think the Empire and MandalMotors gets this," he politely shrugged off the woman and gestured widely hoping to encompass the entire rebuilt city of Keldabe, "for free? Just because our Undying says so? That's not how the Galaxy works and as much as we would like to pretend that we are completely independent from the Galaxy at large with our own economy and our own money we don't." His gaze fell on Mantis' visor.

"And I say corporate because to be honest, the Mandalorians have nothing important to give outside of our manufacturing and beskar smithing and mining secrets. Our planet is a blip on the Galactic scale. All anything a 'malicious foreign agent'," he said that with air quotes, "would find is the secret the the Oyu'baat's Spicy To Vhin stew or how poor and starved the rest of our planet is. We as a people have nothing of value the Galaxy hasn't seen. We have no military structure that an aruetii would understand and we don't have a Superweapon hidden on Concordia. The only thing anyone would want is how our tech works."

He stepped up to Mantis again, nose almost touching his visor, "Which is my problem. Not yours. MandalMotors does not belong to the Undying." He was slightly flustered. He stepped away and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, if you must jeopardize half of our current economy I won't be the one to do it. Take your concerns up with Dorn Skirata, make him at least act like the CEO here. I think he's across the bridge at the Kelita test facilities." He walked back over to the young intern and put his arm over her shoulder again." What he said wasn't wrong. The Mandalorians were slowly but surely losing money by throwing what they had into a dangerous cycle of buying and selling within their own system, they were importing more than they were exporting.

"Trisha, let's go. The client is waiting for us at the Oyu'baat. Have you been there?"

[member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="Baiko no Kaho"] [member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

Silas almost put the beskar fist through [member="Zeke Farthen"]'s throat, the prosthetic hand balled into a fist as he held himself back. He'd let men and women die because he'd played nice, tried to be reasonable and such, he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. But despite popular belief, the Mantises were more than just mindless savages incapable of anything other than bloodshed and violence.

"We will pay him a visit, perhaps he will be more eager to save loyal​ Mandalorian lives." His voice was harsh, the extra emphasis an insult in and of itself, practically spat down on the man he towered over. Turning to [member="Baiko no Kaho"], he cocked his head towards the door, the two of them could head across the bridge and to [member="Dorn Skirata"], hopefully to get what they needed.

Before he backed away, he looked down on Farthen for a moment more, debating extending the beskad under his risk and simply gutting the executive right there, but that would've left him no closer to finding the moles. "Lock down the building." He ordered the squad behind him, who in turn relayed it to the rest of the forces outside. "Just to be safe." He remarked to Farthen smugly as he turned and walked away.

[member="Emilia Ravel"]​