Devil In A Tight Dress
Smoke billowed from the cigarette dangling lazily between Parvati's manicured fingers, the ash flicking off like a brief moment of fire that disappeared into the air. The heady aroma of tobacco mixed seamlessly with the intoxicating scent of her perfume, a blend of sensuality and danger. She took a slow sip of her whiskey, the distinct sound of a single ice cube scraping against the glass ringing through the near-silence of the VIP booth. She had paid extra for the noise-cancelling walls, today's mission was too important, too delicate, to leave room for prying ears. Whatever was going to unfold in this meeting would remain sealed in this space, with only those allowed access to the truth.
Outside the thick walls, the club thrummed with life, its pulse a constant hum, the rhythm of music and laughter, the shimmer of neon lights cutting through the smoke. The air was alive with energy, but to Parvati, it might as well have been a distant world. The muffled bass of the music, the soft clinks of glasses and the quiet hum of conversations, all of it reached her as little more than an inaudible buzz, a far-off memory of a place she could control but not feel. She was alone in her sanctuary, insulated from the noise that filled the rest of the club, the shifting crowd and fleeting glimpses of faces outside her domain. The isolation was deliberate- too many things could go wrong if too many people heard what was said in this room.
The club around her, though out of sight, was still vivid in her mind's eye. Denon was a place built for the reckless, the powerful, and the secretive. Outside the room, hidden figures gathered in dark corners, indulging in fleeting pleasures or dangerous liaisons, oblivious to the woman sitting alone in her well-guarded booth. It was a perfect backdrop for Parvati, a place where shadows met excess, where things could vanish without a trace. This isolation was a gift in itself, her quiet confidence in the midst of chaos.
Parvati's attire mirrored the atmosphere, both elegant and deadly. She wore a sleek, black leather bodysuit adorned with iridescent accents that gleamed when caught by the occasional flash of light through the soundproofed windows. Her leather trench coat, as always, hung loosely over her shoulders, its folds hiding hidden weapons, the subtle promise of lethal power. Her jet-black bob framed her face sharply, its sleek edges cutting accenting her fierce cheekbones.
Normally, Parvati would have orchestrated this little dance on her own turf, one of her many clubs, where every corner could be watched, every movement tracked. But this one was different. This time, the stakes were higher. She wasn't merely closing a deal or expanding her influence, no, she was preparing to align herself with something that walked the line between ally and threat. This was delicate, and Parvati knew the value of discretion. If things went south, she needed the freedom to escape without risking collateral damage, something nearly impossible in the confines of her own domain. She needed a place where the chaos of the galaxy could work to her advantage. Denon, with its unspoken threats and its dark corners, would provide the perfect cover.
The creature Parvati was meeting with wasn't new to her. The destruction Mr. Usher left behind during the wayfinder debacle still haunted the mistress's dreams, a reminder of the raw power and unpredictability it wielded. A hivemind, insatiable in its hunger for knowledge and control. Its actions were clear: it consumed, but not just physically. It took what it needed, bodies, memories, power, and manipulated everything in its path. But it wasn't mindless. No, it had its sights set on something far more dangerous: influence. Its fascination with the galaxy's power structures made it both a threat and, potentially, a useful tool.
The creature was slippery, though. Tracking it across the galaxy had been no easy task, but Parvati was no stranger to a challenge. She had kept an eye on any mention that might match its description, however unique. It had proven difficult to trace, but recently, there had been some grotesque discoveries around New Cov, disturbing events that matched Mr. Usher's particular brand of chaos. It was there that Parvati saw her opportunity.
You don't invite something like Mr. Usher with a simple ping or message. No, something of this caliber needed to be enticed, drawn in like a predator to its prey. Parvati had to make him want what she was offering. So, she manipulated the situation, weaving it to her advantage.
A gift had been sent ahead- small, but significant enough to capture Mr. Usher's interest. An abandoned ship floating in the void, its crew barely alive. Inside its systems, a wealth of high-level Alliance secrets lay dormant, nothing that would bring governments to their knees, but enough to stir curiosity. It was a gamble, but Parvati was confident in her move. She had left a trail of breadcrumbs for Mr. Usher to follow, breadcrumbs that would lead him right here. Once the creature accessed the data, it would find the coordinates, the club, and the lounge where Parvati now sat waiting.
The Sable droids stood motionless beside her, prepared for anything. Parvati's systems were already primed, every angle covered, every potential escape route mapped. If the meeting went awry, she would be ready.
Another slow drag from her cigarette. The waiting was always the hardest part, but Parvati had long learned to be patient. Her moves were never rushed.
Mr. Usher
