First Reply A Like Supreme

[Zaavik Perl]

DENON / THE THRASH PIT

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「A LIKE SUPREME」​

The Thrash Pit wasn't exactly Denon's premier venue, but few other establishments were so willing to have the roof figuratively torn off them by an untamed Heavy Isotope group. Not as if the concern could be literal anyway, given that The Thrash Pit's concert area was entirely outdoor. Nor were many willing to host an ensemble for such a dated genre, anyway. The 'All Jedi' schtick that SWORD OF THE JEDI boasted as a band somehow didn't do them as many favors as they'd hoped it would. Distorted chords, hammering percussion, and aggressive synth lines, and harsh wailing heralded inflammatory lyrics all coming together into one, angry and abrasive symphony of fringe refrain.

" SITH RUN WHEN I COME UNDONE
CAN'T KILL ME I'M ZERO AND ONE
ADD JUSTICE TO THE PEOPLE'S MATH
BLAZE MY WAY DOWN THE JEDI PATH! "
​

Every verse belted from the folds in the depths of Zaavik's throat. Grating vocal technique obscuring lyrics with a raspy, sickly howling. A jarring contrast to Ryv who harmonized the same sentiment, his much more initially pleasant voice somehow melding with the near-screaming into the opposite microphone. Machinegun percussions from Yula Perl carried the song's neck-breaking pace and aggression, each impact cutting into the eardrums of the spectators like the reverberance from a slugthrower discharging.

Aaran Tafo played a soaring synth riff that accentuated the nuance of every distorted strum like a sonic adhesive. An improvised Bass solo from Maynard Treicolt rivaled even the wildest of guitar licks from the show to close out the track, and with it, the set. The crowd had gone absolutely ballistic during the performance. Some even took the anti-corp message to heart enough to snap their credsticks and throw them onto the stage. Others were still in the midst of violent post-moshpit scuffles. The energy in the general admissions area of the venue was nothing short of wicked.

Corp-owned police and security forces had been deployed hours earlier, surrounding the concert with passive surveillance. The official reason given was riot deterrence, but it had more likely been an intimidation play. You didn't just go to Denon and spend an entire performance defaming megacorporations without pissing someone off. That was always somewhat the intention behind the whole thing, but even more so on Denon.

In fact, Zaavik had set the gig up himself. Unbeknownst to his bandmates, a scheme had been machinated in the background. Their hell-raising at The Thrash Pit had been a to take possible eyes from a far more clandestine operation. The specifics of which, Zaavik had spent weeks arduously crafting, every detail down to the footfalls had been mapped out in superfluous detail. While the band drew eyes, a group of hired Edgerunners would slip into corporate infrastructure and nab a datacore.

A concert would have been a poor distraction in most cases, but this concert had started a riot. Even better, Thr Thrash Pit was less than two city blocks from a corporate plaza. Sure, inciting civil unrest only added credence to the corp's careful and caring 'riot deterrence' facade, but it didn't matter so long as the score was secured.

Zaavik informed his bandmates that he intended to hang back, 'check out the district', or some other haphazard excuse. He slipped away into a backstage room, a personal room reserved for performers. Guitar slung over his shoulder fell carelessly onto the sofa as he passed by to the dressing table at the opposite end. An out of place durasteel box no bigger than a foot in any dimension sat by its lonesome in front of the mirror. A hand came forward, twisting the release at the top and removing the lid. A grin crept across his face as he pulled the datacore from the receptacle, rotating it in his fingers.

Time to make those lyrics more than big talk from a bunch of disgruntled rockers.

 

[Yula Perl]

T H E - T H R A S H - P I T
Zaavik Perl ​

The door knob jiggled in warning.

The corpos-sponsored security presence was to be expected, and in the end it only served to make the concert rowdier, amplifying their message of defiance with a real life example. It didn’t escalate to clashing with the police—this time.

Post performance, the bandmates split off to finish the night in their own way. Yula found herself backstage with a groupie, working off the adrenaline surging through her veins. Even though the show had ended, a buzz of exhilaration still thrummed in her chest. All teased hair and heavy eyeliner, Yula wore the ‘wild child’ designation of the Perl family well.

She stepped away for a moment, realizing that her usual packet of deathsticks was nowhere to be found. She’ll be back soon, she said. Just wait right here.

The door to the practice room slid open and Yula stepped in, pulling back in mild surprise when she realized she was not alone. “Oh, didn’t know you were here.” She said simply, taking a few steps towards the couch where she had an inkling her deathsticks might be, sandwiched between the cushions.

"Don't mind me, I'm just-" Yula's gaze found the metallic shine of the datacore.

She paused, head cocked to the side. The corners of her darkly painted lips twitched with the beginnings of a grin while her kohl rimmed eyes seemed to widen.

“Whatcha got, Zaav?”

The deathsticks could wait.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

DENON / THE THRASH PIT

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​

A startled Zaavik nearly dropped the datacore. The distinct sound of a hand fidgeting with the archaic door mechanism had sent his muscles into a brief spasm of conflicted fight-or-flight. Each hand fumbled with it with an awkward juggle, scrambling to snatch it and tuck it away behind his back. It probably would have done better in the sleeve of his jacket, but he'd been too caught off guard to correct the issue in an optimal fashion.

A sudden about-face swung him around as he clutched the datacore in both hands behind his torso. A strange, purse-lipped smile regarded his cousin with a forced nonchalant. He hadn't heard a word of what she'd said upon entering. That was, until her inquiry:

“Whatcha got, Zaav?”​

The expression that began to materialize on her face was an unmistakable harbinger of trouble. Zaavik slipped the datacore into his sleeve and brought that arm up smoothly for the hand to scratch the back of his head. "Oh, nothing, just uhh-" The other hand the remained behind his back felt around on the table behind him where the box still resided. A small metallic rectangle was felt beneath his fingers, one that he quickly snatched into his palm.

Ethereal echoes rushed from the pack into his mind's eye. Some mundane, innocuous, and some of which he'd really rather not have seen, enough to make him grimace. At the very least, those unsavory images told him they were Deathsticks. Yula's, more specifically. It was better than nothing, at the very least. "Just uh," he brought the hand forward as his words sputtered out in repetition, showing the pack. "You know, Deathsticks."

Zaavik had never done a single deathstick in his life, and it showed.

Was he really going to fool Yula with her own stash? It wasn't like he had any other 'clever' lies up his sleeve. Only the truth resided there.

Yula Perl ​

 

[Yula Perl]

T H E - T H R A S H - P I T
Zaavik Perl ​

There was a feeling of urgency around Zaavik, like someone who’d been caught with his pants down.

Yula’s gaze dipped lower for a fraction of a moment to confirm that he was indeed wearing pants. Whew.

Her attention locked onto the slim silver case in his hand, both dark brows rising by an inch.

“Deathsticks.” She repeated after him. Yula took a step closer, pinching the metal case from Zaavik with two fingers. “I didn’t know you partook, Zaav.” Her tone was smooth and even, pairing strangely with the suspicion and hint of knowing amusement in her smile.

“You know,” Yula drawled, opening the case and removing a tightly wound stick of who-knows-what, “If you wanted one, you could have just asked.” Twirling the cigarra between her hands, she pressed a thumb to the end of the rollup. One small puff of flame later, and smoke curled lazily from the lit end.

She held it out to him.

Something had made him uncomfortable when she’d entered, that much Yula could feel. She’d also never seen Zaavik show an interest in illicit substances. Either he was going down a different road, or something else was up.

“Go on, I’ll share. We are family, after all.”

 

[Zaavik Perl]

DENON / THE THRASH PIT

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“Go on, I’ll share. We are family, after all.”​

Zaavik smiled strangely. Or was it a grimace? He cringed away from the fumes in a subtle leaning motion. Blue eyes darted from the death stick then back to Yula. Yula to death stick. Drugs to Cousin. Again. And Again. "Uhhhhh," he intonated flatly at an initial loss for a response. Another moment of intense, awkward silence passed before Zaavik let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Okay," he conceded shakily before taking the death stick from her grasp. He stared at it as it rested between his fingers. His regard followed the wispy fumes as they slithered and twirled up from the tip. Hesitation begot fidgeting, his thumb flicking the butt-end on the inner side of his extremities. There wasn't any way out of this lie aside from doing the death stick. It didn't take any more than a moment's consideration before he made the very obvious decision that it wasn't worth it.

A quick flourish spun the stick around before he flicked it onto the floor. It shattered, sending the red liquid pooling against the dirty duracrete floor of the backstage room. "Fine, you got me," he said. A quick call on the force sent the datacore snapping from his sleeve to his fingers in a motion too quick to track with the eye. "Happy?" He asked as if the vague reveal answered any questions whatsoever.

Yula Perl ​

 

[Yula Perl]

T H E - T H R A S H - P I T

Zaavik Perl ​

“Uh,” Yula took a step back to avoid a splatter of red liquid over her new boots. “Not particularly, no.”

She bent down to retrieve the vestiges of her now-ruined deathstick, carefully picking around the bits of space glass at their feet. “You know you- you could have just handed it back to me, right?” Yula frowned while counting the larger pieces of the broken deathsick, now held gingerly in the palm of one hand.

But now, this shiny new metallic situation had piqued her interest more than a romp in the sheets capped with a nice high. With a sigh, she tossed the remaining bits of glass and metal at a trash can in the corner. It was too far, and not all of the components to her throw made it. She ignored the tinkling of tiny bits of glass shattering, fragmenting into even smaller pieces. Not her problem.

“So, what’s with the datacore?” Any disappointment she had about the deathstick was fleeting. This whole situation was shaping up to be a living, breathing drug of choice. She pointed a finger to the device, waggling it back and forth. “What are we sabotaging? Who’s the contractor? Are we—oh, should I call my friends? I know this one guy, fantastic slicer. Sliced into my neural implants once and well-that’s not a story for today. I can tell you all about it while you’re buying me a new deathstick.”

She smiled at him, bright with just a hint of malice.

"How many hostages are there?"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

DENON / THE THRASH PIT

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"Uhhh-" He grimaced. "Chill. No hostages, no contractor, and please don't call anyone." So she'd drawn her own conclusions, and even worse, she was correct. A defeated sigh escaped his lungs, one eye squeezing shut with the remnants of frustration. Where he's expected reprimandation, instead he received interest, encouragement even. Knowing Yula, not that he knew her as well as he should by any means, it didn't exactly come as a surprise. Perhaps he should have expected this, rather than trying to play innocent. Not that deathsticks played too well to that facade, either.

"With all this 'we' talk, I'm guessing you want in?" A curse muttered in his native Zeltron slipped out as he rubbed his forehead with yearning discountenance. "Not that I figure you'll take no for an answer, now that you have the dirt. -And I'm not buying you another deathstick! Stuff's gonna kill you," he rebuked as if he hadn't just pretended like he was partaking in one. "I'm hitting AvCorp. You know it?"

Yula Perl ​

 

[Yula Perl]

Yula’s hands went up in defense, palms facing Zaavik as she yielded to him. “Alright, alright.” She grinned sheepishly, even cheesily as her suggestions were refuted. “No fun, got it.” He was a Jedi, after all, and Jedi had their limits. And from what she’d been hearing, their limits were even more tenuous than she’d imagined.

She’d tried before, and wasn’t cut out for the lifestyle. Hence working as a contractor for Darkwire.

While Zaavik explained his intentions in a bit more detail, Yula made herself comfortable on the couch. Legs crossed, elbow on the knee, chin resting against a closed fist. As if flicking a switch, her lackadaisical nature focused rapidly into a sharp pinpoint of attention on him.

“AvCorp, huh? Who doesn’t know it.” She didn’t want to hell him how much she’d lost in cryptocurrency and buried that thought with a tight smile. Still, she had made it sound like she was ready to jump in, both feet first. Now she knew what he was up to. “I’m flattered—truly.” Tapping the side of her cheek with an index finger, she coaxed a smile to her face. “But I’d like to know what you’re after first, cuz.”

Zaavik Perl

 

[Zaavik Perl]

“But I’d like to know what you’re after first, cuz.”

"Nothing," he informed. There weren't any materialistic motives behind this heist. If one could really call it a heist. Sure, if he really wanted to, he could find something worthwhile in terms of hard-credit-value to take, it wouldn't be that hard in the middle of a corpo-compound. AvCoin's newfound scarcity had turned it into digital electrum, and the very core of the blockchain was on Denon. Yet, even with all of this having been considered, he found none of it particularly appealing.

Perhaps he was naive, but regardless it wasn't about money.

"I'm not after anything," he reiterated. "All of our songs have a similar message, you know?" he mentioned in regards to the lyrical messages that were almost exclusively his machination. Perhaps it was a bit bold to say 'our', but Zaavik figured she wouldn't be beating the cans at every concert if she didn't agree. "I don't wanna just preach it, I wanna be about it. I can't stand people who don't do as they preach."

"I want to send a message."

 

[Yula Perl]

Nothing.

“Chaos for the sake of chaos, huh.”

Maybe that wasn’t quite it, but perhaps Zaavik and Yula shared a similar outlook when it came to bloated establishments. That was, if his lyrics were anything to go by.

Yula leaned back, a contemplative dip in her lips not quite forming a frown as she considered Zaavik’s motive.

“I’m in- on two conditions.” She leaned forward, sending her laced hands neatly into her lap as she scrutinized Zaavik with bright green eyes. “One; we don’t tell my mom.”

“Two; we get noodles after.”

Zaavik Perl

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"Whoa, chill, I never asked you to come along, what makes you suddenly think you can set conditions?" He grinned, making it clear he was kidding. "Yeah, no. You really think I'd tell Joza? I mean, she isn't my mom, but-" Pause. A sudden sardonic expression heralded the completed thought, "-try telling her that."

Zaavik took a long, circular step around Yula, and moved toward a corner. After hefting a less-than-discreet bag of something onto his shoulder, he performed an about-face toward her. "I'm guessing by 'we get noodles after' you mean I buy you noodles because you have no cred?" A toothy grin followed, perhaps a knowing one. Might not have been the case, but if those death sticks were any indication, it was a good guess.

Hands ran through violet hair, quickly gathering all excess toward the back of his head. A tie came down off his wrist to restrain it all in place. All done while walking toward the door. He turned again. "As long as you don't mind getting them somewhere else. I'm not staying on Denon for what comes next," he asserted before slipping out the door without so much as a beckon.

 

[Yula Perl]

"Yeah, no. You really think I'd tell Joza? I mean, she isn't my mom, but-" "-try telling her that."

Yula threw her head back and snorted. “Sorry, bud. That’s what you get when you sign on to this family.” Not that Zaavik had a choice in the matter, really. The Perls were numerous, smothering, and fought like hell when one of their own was in trouble. And with Joza at the head, there was no room for argument.

Green eyes followed his path, focusing briefly on the duffel Zaavik hefted onto his shoulder. So he’d figured her out.

“You’re a darling, Zaavik Perl.” She matched his toothy grin with a bright one of her own. Denon was rife with cheap Atrisian takeaways, and Yula had scoured the city for the diamonds in the rough. Looks like she’d have to be open to other options.

Pressing her back into the couch, Yula lurched forward and onto her feet and pranced after her cousin. Snagging one of his leather jackets from beside the door, she threw it over her shoulders and zipped it up to her collar bone as they entered the hall.

“Never knew you took so much after me.” She muttered a tease with approval, content to trail after him.