A Commissioned Work

[The Major]

Capitol building​

Office of the Commissioner​

But a pair of weeks after the battle​

Fair morning - a wonderful blue sky with puffy clouds so very cheerful along their happy paths. Bisected they were by the swarms produced by industrial progress. The use of military craft was a common sight as the city underwent repairs. The treachery of the Alliance had been met and trounced. The dead were mourned. The city was in a quasi state of function. Over the lower city one could glance upon the intimidating, lumbering cut of capital ships streaming to and fro as repairs and other logistical procedures were conducted. Shadows deep and black were cast along the cracked streets as some semblance of normalcy persisted past the reconstruction efforts. Gunships would often patrol the center; their mission was to remain vigilant against the threat of any pockets of Alliance resistance that may have been bold enough to hide. One could only imagine the kind of terror that awaited these poor fools, as to see one of these craft suddenly spike into a landing and spit out a contingent of shadowtroopers was still something occurring as a matter of circumstance throughout the previous days. For example, a gunship devoid of the usual markings of the stormtrooper corps leaned into a sudden death defying loop. Its sudden change of course was possibly a move to obfuscate the final objective point, but once the craft zoomed low in final approach the destination was clear: the Capitol and its creamy seat of government. No doubt the workers and representatives inside were rife with activity since the recent battle had left exponential data trails to process.

Regardless, for one employee of no small stature -a bit of reconkening had manifested itself. . .

A trio of figures at first emerged from the landing pad upon the roof. These were almost immediately challenged by the troop complement assigned to guard the post. Credentials were calmly exchanged. From that point, the members from that gunship faced no obstacles. One envoy floated to the security station, and once a number of people were informed of the situation a number of orders were shifted. A number of offices near one particular room were cleared by guards and a pair of sentries posted up near the doorway. This wasn’t exactly a new occurrence -especially during this hectic wartime. Routine security sweeps were more or less the rule and not the exception in this seat of imperial influence. A group of sharp figures dressed in colors fitting of stalking in the night marching down the halls was an altogether different matter.

Discretion mattered little to these foul minions who were cut in clothing of exquisite quality and shaped to sharpest of angles. Danger clung to this merry band, and no expense appeared to be spared; for even a noble scion of the house of Graush escorted these mysterious comrades upon their dooming approach. Tragedy clung to the corners of their coats, staining the very air away like vile portents in an accursed wake.

Contemptibly a number of the hunters smirked beneath scarves.

All except their Deputy Director, her mouth a grim line under a pointed, feathered cap. They entered with little forewarning, one of the other agents waving a universal symbol of silence as he produced the warrants and other investigative credentials. An accompanying police officer gently recommended that the assistant leave, and while the commotion of that exchange could possibly be detected in the commissioner's office, the head representatives of the investigative group assaulted the room swiftly with their unannounced intrusion. Silently, a pair of agents pushed deeper into a sensibly decorated room to take up flanking positions overwatching the large windows overlooking the Edgefields. Regardless of demand or outrage the purpose of their visit had to provide an extremely specific type of presentation in order for the proper message to be sent.

It began with the Major crossing her heart with her left hand as though conjuring a rune formed of a simple white gloved gesture, meanwhile the right hand flourished off perpendicular to her chest. This posture was held for but a second while she bowed, and once that was over she removed the cap. A queer twist touched the corner of her mouth which seemed to tilt higher and higher to the point of threatening to split her pale cheeks. From this point forward, her face more or less would keep this smirking gleam behind a strange set of spectacles which glittered just a tad too brightly if caught at the wrong angle.

“Madam Commissioner! It is a pleasure to meet you! Worry not. I have kindly cancelled all your appointments for the duration of the day. And for good measure: you’ll be all the more glad for it once we’re finished here.”

Without waiting for further guidance, the tall woman took a seat across from what would be Madelyn’s usual station and took the liberty of placing her hunter’s cap gently upon the table. If the Major could detect the tension in the office then she made no indication of discomfort or distraction from her purpose. She breathed whimsically in a feigned sigh and produced a datapad which was placed upon the desk. It projected a file which belonged to the current Commissioner which had a number of lines crossed out with a classified status washing the precious data out.

“Madam Lowe, although I’m thoroughly acquainted with both you and your history -this seems to place you at somewhat of a disadvantage. Are you familiar with my existence at all? And are you aware of the job that I’ve been ordered to carry out by both the Security Minister and Supreme Leader?” As she said this, she waved her hands slightly as though using them as scales.

Her thoughts swirled unfathomable behind the smile.

[member="Madelyn Lowe"] | [member="Therran Graush"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

[SIZE=11pt]Governor’s Office,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Edgefields City Hall,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Edgefields-on-Varonat.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Madelyn Lowe was sitting placidly at her desk in City Hall. Technically, it wasn’t her deck, not yet anyway. The office belonged to one Governor Mellhurse, the man in charge of Varonat. However, he wouldn’t be for long. She’d already put the man in hospital, and it was there he was now, clinging to an inch of his life. A little birdie told her he wouldn’t make it through the night.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With Mellhurse out of action, Madelyn had easily taken his place and assumed the role of acting Governor. It had been a case of simple manipulation. A string pulled here, a little money exchanged there, it had been surprisingly easy. Even better, her actions during the attempted invasion had gone largely undercover. Yes, every operation had its leaks, but Madelyn was confident that anyone who’d dare talk had already been silenced. She was hailed as a national hero, saving the people of Edgefields and refusing to bend against the full brunt of the Alliance assault. What’s more, she was set to succeed Mellhurse, and take her rightful place as the leader of Varonat.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Leaning across the dark wood of her desk, she grabbed a recorder, holding down the button to dictate an idea that had flitted through her head, perhaps a tidbit for her inauguration speech. With a delicate clearing of the throat, she began to speak into the device. “The Alliance’s efforts should be classed as a retaliatory strike. If it weren’t for the warmongering of the Moff Council, Varonat would never have been the target of an attack from the Alliance. This war threatens the stability of the Outer Rim, and of the First Order itself. I will not stand idly by as fools like Fortan, Graush, and Calgar bring about our ruination. I fight for the dead of Varonat, and I fight for the First Order.” She cut the recording with a click, rapping her painted red nails on the desk. It wasn’t bad, but perhaps an explicit name and shame of the Moff Council was unwise.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]A glint caught her eye. She kept the desk organised and immaculate. Most days, one would struggle to find a singular mote of dust on its expansive surface, so the silver web extending from a pile of books across the desk was immediately noticeable. A moment later, she noticed the fat-bodied black spider working its way across the singular strand. A lone strand of silk wasn’t much, but as she watched, enraptured, the web began to take form. Back and forth, back and forth for minutes on end, the spinnerets continued to weave, and the spider drew out strand after strand of infinitesimally fine silk. In due time, it would form a wide web, large enough to trap a bug larger even than the spider itself. One could defeat their enemies by taking time to lay out the right trap. In that moment, she felt a special kind of connection to the creature. She was just like it: ambitious, dangerous. All she had to do was draw out the web. Scooping the small creature into her hand, she examined it for a moment, before taking it between two fingers, and crushing it. She dropped the lifeless bug to the ground and brushed her hand absentmindedly on her leg, returning to the documents in front of her. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]No sooner had she resumed her concentration on the task at hand then her attention was wrestled away once again. This time it was voices in the corridor outside. This in itself was not at all uncommon, but she caught fragments of the exchange, her ears just barely picking up the instructions for those outside to leave. Madelyn barely had time to process this information before a small team of quaintly dressed yet well armed operatives burst through the door and secured the room. The keen observer might notice a slender brow raised on an otherwise neutral face. Within a moment, it was back down, her face displaying only a vague disinterest. At the group’s head was a flamboyant official now well known in government circles. It took a moment to recognise the strange woman, but as she took a seat of her own accord her identity became clear.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I know you as well as anyone does. You go by the moniker ‘The Major,’ you’re the Deputy Director of Operations in the Security Bureau. Nobody had heard of you until a few weeks ago, but you’re the talk of the town now. Something of a young upstart I hear.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her brow crinkled slightly as the woman placed her hat down on the table, severing the delicate strands of webbing that stretch across its length. The corners of her mouth turned up as she looked open the Deputy director with a knowing blue gaze.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Unless you’ve been appointed by the Supreme Leader to barge into the offices of government officials for no good reason, I think you ought to tell me exactly what you’re doing here, Deputy Director.”[/SIZE]

 

[Zef Halo]

Issues.

In Therran's experience, issues could always be turned into opportunities. When the information of a possible conspiracy against Varonat's governor was delivered to him, it was clear that the FOSB would come barging into suspects' offices.

What bigger suspect than the Commissioner?

Ironically, she had taken his office, as well as his responsibilities for the time being until the governor returned. If he even did. His health seemed to deteriorate with each passing moment. Graush could care less, of course, he did not see lives. He saw pawns, pieces on a board, all capable of being used to further his own goals. The loyal governor's eventual death might prove an issue for the Order, but an opportunity for the ambitious scion of House Graush.

Thus, the FOSB task force, led by the oddball named 'The Major' stormed in the office of one Madelyn Lowe. The fully dressed in black, stereotypical Sith robes Therran stood at the rear of the small group as the Major spearheaded right in like a bulldozer. The Major always seemed to strike him as an oddity, a walking oxymoron. Her walk had grace, but at the same time Therran noticed a brute force with each step she took. An illustrious tongue but sharp as a razor. She still remained a piece on the board that Therran had yet to figure. An obstacle or a ladder? What spiked his curiosity of the 'Major' remained the sense of the Force from her during the fateful boarding of the Red Veil.

Today she was the Deputy Director of Operations as the Commissioner mentioned. Therran wondered if the sudden popularity disturbed her. Shadows in the light became vulnerable. His father had taught him that much and so he had learned.

Graush remained at the back, his head hooded but his face narrowed down at the Commissioner. Sulfuric eyes observed carefully her body language but the Sith's lips did not part.

He would watch for now.

​

[member="Madelyn Lowe"] | [member="The Major"]​

 

[The Major]

The star-crossed huntress wiggled her shoulders just enough in her seat at the sound of her moniker being used aloud by someone completely out of her sphere of action. This motion was visible enough. Could this be the source of weakness? Was this the point of attack to break the smiling conniver with the mad gleam touching her eyes? Fame? Notoriety? Instead the skin by her cheekbones twinged with just a touch of color. Nodding, the expression became clear: she was pleased. In this she relished while the politician continued to meander verbally from the true point. This was not going to be the work of mercy. For now the First Order was devoid of anyone worth the Major’s kindness or consideration; they, reckless uncompassionate beings, deserved nothing but the deep well of acid which bubbled up with vengeful, toxic clouds swirling in lieu of understanding.

“Quite. I’ve worked for some time now within this organization and have enjoyed the veil of secrecy. It’s a wonderful advantage, since it enables one to prepare for more angles of challenge. All of it’s thanks to two qualities I possess and you lack:

Control…
...and discretion.”

She peered directly into Madam Lowe’s eyes, stabbing deep in to detect slightest twinkle or stir within those morbid windows the good commissioner called iris.

“Do you know you also have a. . . ahem. . . moniker, as you call it, Commissioner. Black widow. Spider. The Spinner in Red. You left a wonderful impression on the witnesses who would rather whisper of you in nicknames as if you were some specter or curse word. But you aren’t any of that, are you? You are more a victim of circumstance.”

It was imagery the Fallanasssi loved to cite, and once the details of the case reached her ears she knew this would have to be something attended to personally. For if the politician pictured herself as the penultimate spider, she would have to be made to remember that someone else saw through the delusions. Someone else, a true curse upon the lips of the mortal world, held the little webs and watched the beauty of action in perpetuity. At any moment even such haughty bugs could be destroyed; one didn’t bring along a Sith of the house of Graush if they didn’t possibly foresee a potential need to dust off the odd pile of dirt and bug.

“And that circumstance brings us full circle to the reason of our visit. As you so well put we wouldn't interrupt ‘for no good reason.’ Before we begin, is there anything you'd like to say on your behalf that would make any further questioning redundant?”

[member="Madelyn Lowe"] | [member="Therran Graush"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Spider... How could she possibly-?

Madelyn’s eyes narrowed slightly, a puff of air and a slight flaring of the nostrils were the only external signs of her distress. It was no wonder that people treated this woman with respect and awe. She knew things no normal person should know, that no normal person could know. The fact that the woman was skilled enough in the Force to probe thoughts deep in her subconscious thoroughly disturbed Madelyn. What’s more, if the Deputy Director was a good as she seemed, she’d know that.

Things were as bad as they could possibly be. Minutes ago she’d thought herself on top of the world, but she realised with a sinking feeling that she’d already lost. She was the one caught in the snare. Leaning her elbows heavily on the desk, she broke eye contact with the woman, her gaze coming to rest on the fine wood of her desk. She arched her fingers, and sighed heavily. Staying silent as she considered the woman’s question. Finally, she spoke.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

There was nothing she could say. It was no use denying her involvement. First, because to deny it is to acknowledge it, and second because it was crystal clear that everyone in the room knew exactly what had happened on the day of the invasion. Whatever happened from here, she had no control over it.

She’d already ruled out calling for help. There was a silent alarm on her desk, one that would connect her to her very own private militia, handpicked from the VDF. But, she’d already decided they’d have no hope against the Security Bureau’s force, and provoking an incident would only guarantee her place on the chopping block.

Drumming the fingers on her left hand, she addressed the woman. “What happens now?”

[member="The Major"] [member="Therran Graush"]​

 

[Zef Halo]

Carefully he observed the venomous interaction between the two black widows. It all sounded so personal to the point which Graush wondered if the two had known each other from before. The Commissioner had to give in, she did not outright admit her plot but the FOSB held the trump cards. While Therran felt no remorse for Lowe's plans crumbling right before their completion, he had known the frustration of having one's plans crumble just before the finish line.

His head turned to the other operatives in the room sans the Major, a curt nod and they were out of the room in the moment.

"You serve or you rot." The Sith came in bluntly. He was never known for delinquency when playing on a table where his cards were certainly stronger. No, diplomacy was for the vulnerable, for those still calculating the odds.

The odds were already given.

The Major and Graush had briefly discussed it, both laconic in their own ways, and had reached the obvious conclusion. Madelyn Lowe would claim her ambition but at a cost. Her ambition would depend on her reliability to the FOSB. She had the reputation of not exactly being in complete devotion to the Moff Council, often voicing opinions opposing theirs. By some sheer luck, or the Force by Therran's belief, the FOSB had caught a perfect candidate for a plant in the Government. With Lowe's reputation among political circles as a rather independent thinker, she would attract possible insurgents among the First Order's ranks like moths to a flame. The FOSB would succeed in maintaining order and stability among the highest echelons and preserve the integrity of the Moff Council and the First Order as a whole.

At least, that's what the FOSB and the Major had as a goal.

To Graush - The Force had been bent to his will. A future governor who possessed opposing views towards the Moff Council. A high ranked politician who he could use to topple his cousin.

He would learn about Lowe more and more. Their goals may very well be aligned.

If they were not - Graush would forcefully align them to pursue his agenda.

"Your goal will be achieved, Commissioner, and your position will remain safe." Graush elaborated further, sulfuric eyes gazing in the Commissioner's soul. "Your opposing views to certain policies or actions by the Council will continue."

"At a cost." He added coldly. Therran found his words comprehensive enough for the Commissioner. The Major could further introduce more details if she desired to.

[member="Madelyn Lowe"] | [member="The Major"]​

 

[The Major]

The intensity of the moment shifted and shattered as eye contact between the two sitting women broke; The Major could feel a massive weight open up a metaphysical gap between the ladies by the mysterious properties of the Force. Like a cavern suddenly opening up the ground the link of mental intrusion fell to infinitesimal gravity. A shivering wake masked in a haughty aura reverberated across that spiritual realm like bursting bass. It left the stranger, the only true outsider inside this office stuck in strange mood. Even she struggled to comprehend exactly what it could mean, but it felt although she was upset.

As Therran spoke his surly lines, modified to cut with intended hostility -the Huntress nearly tripped up on holding her cruel posture, sensing that her delving into another’s mind before even giving them a chance to consider such implications yet another, lower level of depravity that further solidified her ever sinking quality as a person. After all, the technique was bestowed by a mentor with the intention of its use being limited to empathize and provide assistance to those in need. But now it was not enough to kill, to trick, or manipulate. She had to violate as well? More troubling was how pointedly she had cut in, taking subconscious thoughts and running with them like a bully. Nobody had ever mentioned such a nickname for Commissioner Lowe, and yet now with such haphazard utterances there were at least some people entertaining the concept.

Too late now. Shots were cast in arrogance. They had to fly their course.

Outwardly, the Major remained unchanged, trying to follow the gaze of Madam Lowe as though to run yet another sprint into her being. Theft, as much a vice as anything, had its addictive glamour as well. The Deputy Director couldn’t tell you at this time if she was truly enjoying this self destructive course.

“You can say today is lucky your day. The investigation into Mulhurse’s injuries is still undergoing. He is making some bold accusations that we are required to take into consideration. Your cooperation and support during these understandably trying times would most certainly help facilitate a speedy resolution.

“What do you think, Commissioner? Won’t you. . . hah. . . help us resolve this matter?”

[member="Madelyn Lowe"] | [member="Therran Graush"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

[SIZE=11pt]“Mellhurse would keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him.” The Commissioner muttered, almost bitterly. She pressed her knuckles against the side of her brow, her thumb making small circles on her temples. It would be wise to continue hiding her emotions, but at this point she was too overwhelmed. There was a deep fear in her gut, one that threatened to bubble over like an unwatched pot and drown her in panic. If she didn’t cooperate she’d be killed then and there. She could see it in the face of the man, and the cold smile of the Deputy Director.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The man was considerably more to the point than Deputy Director Shepard. He was the one who made it clear what it was they were here for. It wasn’t to kill her, or to arrest her. It was to use [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]her. It was not an idea situation, not by any means. Madelyn hadn’t intended to become the pawn of anyone, let alone a few underlings from the Security Bureau. However, it wasn’t as if she was in a position to argue terms.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Madelyn faced the man. She’d never heard of him, and she didn’t recognise his face. But she got the feeling he was not simply one of the Deputy Director’s minions. This was a powerful man in his own right. She could feel the strength radiating off of him. Perhaps he was the master, and the so-call Major was his subject.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She considered his words. It seemed that she would be afforded the opportunity to keep her position, and continue her conniving schemes at that, but from this point forward it would be under the watchful eyes of these two officials. She would be their tool. She would be spared her life, rank and ambition, and all it would cost was her dignity.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Not a bad deal, all things considered.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The Major spoke again, and Madelyn’s gaze flickered to her. As she spoke the Commissioners shoulders began to relax and she eased back in her chair. She allowed the woman’s question to hang in the air for a moment, before she spoke, unable to hide the slight grin that crept to the corners of her mouth. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I think that we can help each other.”[/SIZE]

 

[The Major]

"Wonderful!"

She was sensing that Therran's method complimented her own more esoteric approach to social management, and wondered why both representatives of the Bureau didn't blend their strengths to furthering the reach of the organization. It was perhaps something they could discuss in private later, if the Sith wasn't too busy gallivanting with his own cohort or precipitating the destruction of some weak willed fool off to the side somewhere. No doubt, power hungry as the house of Graush could be, there was some ulterior motive. None of this offended the Deputy Director in the slightest. In fact, she was hoping someone would eventually catch on and starting framing her in the context of their own games; could Therran be one? Possibly. It would at least give her a curve to manage. At least, another one that was someone else besides Supreme Leader. She wondered briefly if that usually unnameable man was sitting somewhere, draped in shadows, smiling as widely as she herself was. In fact, the good Major was certain her next report would solidify that grin once they finished fleshing out the details of this meeting.

Everyone was simply so positive in the room. How wonderful to have such compatriots in this great nation, thought she. They would become fast friends. Insomuch that only extortion and implied threats of death brought all the best out in all people.

"Your communicator. Give it to me." Uttered she to Madelyn, friendly as can be.

The Major's left hand extended outward across the desk towards the face of the Commissioner. There it waited for compliance. Her wrist and palm stretched in such a way that something glittered beneath the sleeve of her frock-coat. Sharp in shape, it glistened before just enough poked out to reveal it as the end of polished dagger. Following the line down from that point back down the arm led one eyes to the tilted smirk spitting the Fallanassi's pale face. The latest unofficial assistant to the Security Bureau probably couldn't know that it was the same tool used to drive a certain Station Chief from their traitorous form in the morbid realm of physical existence -in a flurry on a fateful Primeday that seemed so long ago. Fates forbid its use in such a way again. Although in the case of the Commissioner, nay, soon to be acting governor of Varonant -the Major could go in either direction: sending her squealing into the Nether, or propelling her to prominence.

[member="Madelyn Lowe"] | [member="Therran Graush"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

A pale hand, outstretched, hovered inches away from her. The threat was not explicitly stated, it never would be, but now it was clear. Compliance, or death. There was no greater motivator known to man. Madelyn was no stranger to blackmail and intimidation of course, admittedly it was a knew experience to be on the receiving end, but she knew that it would be unwise to cause a confrontation, especially now that things seemed to be going at least a little in her favour. She would just have to bear the humiliation of becoming a pawn, an underling.

The wicked point of Deputy Director Shepard's dagger gleamed in the soft rays of sun that fought their way through the slim cracks between the drawn curtains. Madelyn's own curls glimmered in the light, the expensive product she used causing the blonde locks to shine in the sun. The angular beams of sunlight didn't penetrate beyond the desk, and the Deputy Director and her compatriot were framed in shadow. It would be easy. It would be so easy. All it would take was a small force of will, a mental flick. She imagined the dagger shifting from its position tucked against the woman's wrist, her confused expression as the instrument began to squirm, her horror as it twisted and carved into her wrist, directed by Madelyn's guiding will. The Commissioner-made-Governor envisioned the woman's panic when she realised the damage couldn't be undone.

Alas, Madelyn knew that would result in her immediate and violent death, so she merely swallowed heavily and let her gaze flicker down to the draw beside her, where her secure communicator lay in a soft foam bed. Reluctantly she opened the draw, removing the device and placing it gently in the woman's outstretched hand. She sat back without a further word, instead pulling a bottle of golden liquid towards herself and pouring a drink into a crystal glass.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Therran Graush"]​

 

[The Major]

"Gramercy, Madam Lowe."

Ensuring that the commissioner removed her hand before reeling the device in prohibited their hands from incidentally touching, and this was an important distinction to since the Fallanassi did not want to sully her hands, even gloved as they were, with the filth of a wretched opportunist. Anyone with a sense of dignity would resist such extortion right from its outpouring, but this, this thing which resembled a soul would suffer any insult to extend her schemes. In this moment the bespectacled woman crystallized an intense loathing for the creature sitting just across the desk. Inside a poignant sensation bubbled up from the mad clock that was her mind. It was a yearning. A desire to reach a result with the soon to be governor manifested like a clarifying, warming, all encompassing ray of sunshine.

She wanted Lowe. Wanted to be there right when she messed up again. Wanted to be a part of catching her trying to screw over the Security Bureau. Wanted to be the one there when it came to catching her trying to swing her counter-stroke, and most of all, she wanted to be the one to kill her. Something inside clicked in the Major's brain as this thought further formulated; it was perhaps the first time in her life that she distinctly wanted to make a specific person suffer and languish in their own bile; it was the first time she did actively want to murder another person outside of the usual protocol of orders. The worst of it all was the hunger which resulted because now was too immature a time to process such disposal. This Commissioner had to give them an excuse, give them the reason to execute besides the obvious and previous crime. Predestination would seem to indicate that it would eventually go down this way, and the good Huntress grew irate in anticipation for the coming violence. Oh, how she could almost picture it, almost taste the rush and thrill of striking a person and being struck by a person until the target succumbed to their loss. If only the gods could be so merciful as to bestow the mission of abject justice upon the Major, and allow her to tear apart her foe on that fateful day....

For now, the Almanian attached a datacord from her own device to the temporary gift. Her glasses flared in a bright blue as some sort of transfer occurred. A few seconds later a confirmation tone beeped and the Major returned the communicator on top of the desk.

"A number you can reach us at has been loaded unto your device. You'll need it: you have a week to provide us at least two people who participated in shooting up Melhurse and proof of their involvement."

With that she stood and drew her coat closer upon her chest before collecting her effects.

"Well! How productive a meeting. Aren't you glad I cleared up your schedule for you so you can get started on this urgent project? Ah, forward thinking: I'm sure it's a skill you'll learn well in the coming weeks."

She flourished another bow and began to step backwards while placing her feathered cap back upon her head.

"Good day, Madam, and hail Supreme Leader!"

Perhaps telling some sort of sign, the Major refused to turn her back to the blond and kept her in sight until she had cleared the door. Once clear her face screwed up as though she was ready to retch. [member="Therran Graush"] was left behind to his own designs, for he might want a moment alone to instill his own menace or make another set of promises.

[Exit]​

[member="Madelyn Lowe"]​

 

[Zef Halo]

Therran glared at the two women locked in a battle of wits. He could feel Lowe's equal hate of the Deputy Director. He could also feel the Deputy Director's distaste of the woman steeply increasing and something more.

Murder.

The intent to kill flared his senses and his eyes widened for a moment before collecting himself and focusing his gaze on the back of the Deputy Director as she began standing up and leaving the office. The Sith stated to her as she passed right by him enough only for her to hear:

"Tread very carefully, Deputy Director." Therran's eyes coldly followed her. The warning clearly targeted at the hunger for the murder of Lowe he felt radiated from the Major a moment ago. He then turned his head to the new governor. Silence grew between them before Graush spoke to her. "We will meet again very soon."

Lowe could be a decisive piece in his machinations to topple his cousin. He wouldn't let the bloodthirsty enigmatic D.Director ruin his plans.

Calmly, Therran turned to leave with nothing more to say.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Madelyn Lowe"]​