Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private All Under Control





I deserve to treat myself today. I have not rewarded myself for anything in quite some time. Not since I have had to leave New Cov. What feels like a lifetime ago, I used to reward myself for a job well done every day. And that was usually with a tall glass of wine.

And so here I am at the bar section of some high end restaurant in Diarchy space, wearing a simple yet elegant dress; much in the way that I used to. For today I am not some rogue scientist on the run. For today I can pretend to have some semblance of my old life back.

I sip my wine from the comfort of the barstool, listening to the music while it plays behind me. For the most part I tune a lot of it out while I flip through various news stories on my datapad. There's a story about planetary shifts, and another on different hyperspace routes. How bizarre.

A sudden chill grips me then. A deep cold within my very bones; feeling as though an icy fire was enveloping me from within. And then I saw them from behind me. A couple with too much to drink already and even more drinks in hands for their friends tripped on their way to the bar. The entire area around me rippled as time slowed right down. Even sound felt distant and quiet. I turned and saw the pair slowly falling towards me with their drinks spilling forth. The liquid poured out like a distant wave. And despite the slowness of my surroundings, I saw that I could move normally. And so I did; sliding out of my stool with my wine in hand, getting myself clear of their path.

Only when I did so, did time catch up. The pair and their drinks hit the stool and knocked it over. One of them hit their head on the bartop with a loud crack. I stood there standing in both shock and awe over what had happened; and then the next moment I was nearly falling onto the floor myself. A wave of disorientation hit me and I stumbled back against someone. I felt both dizzy and light at the same time while my surroundings appeared to be cloaked in shadow. And then I could feel it coming; a trickle of blood coming out of my nose.

Oh no. It has happened again. And this time in public.

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros



 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor
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The glass in his hand wasn’t touched.

Nos sat with his back to the wall, facing the bar at an angle. Civilian clothes: matte-black field jacket resembling a blazer, muted shirt, shoes with dust still caked in the seams. He would pass cursory inspection but up close? Doubtful. Nothing polished. Nothing traceable. A man drinking alone who hadn’t blinked in three minutes.

He’d clocked her the moment she walked in. Dress too clean for a fugitive, Shoulders drawn too tight for a socialite. And when she smiled at the server, it didn’t touch her eyes.

Liin Terallo. Confirmed. Alive. Despite the bounties that had spread her name across half the galaxy. In certain circles. She slid into the atmosphere without even trying to hide it.

Admittedly, a few street thug bounty hunters could hardly reach an establishment like this, even if it wasn't in diarchu space.

Nos didn’t move unless he needed to. No need to draw attention. He just watched... Until familiar edge pressed against his spine, Zeltron empathic resonance picking up something between a startle and curiosity.

Then came the stutter in the room.
A gust of wind, the almost a whip-crack of fabric snapped at high speed.

Suddenly, Liin wasn't there, just a stumbling patron and a once-occupied space at the bar. Nos rose suddenly, chair clattering behind him, only to spot her nearby... She cleared the impact zone. Wine glass untouched.

Nos’s fingers slid down to his concealed holster, near the fold of his jacket. Safety off. Just in case.

The couple that crashed to the floor, barely seemed to notice anything amiss, but Terallo went pale.

She staggered. No good – if something happens to her while he's tailing... Even if the diarchy never learns of his presence, the SIA's investigation stain his record worse than the fallen couple's wine stained their outfits.

He closed the gap, the time her back hit his chest, Nos had already caught her.

A firm hand on her shoulder, the other at her arm lightly braces to keep her steady, or protect her head from hitting something if she suddenly collapsed. Not too familiar, not threatening, just the way a stranger might intervene if they were bumped into.

“Careful.”
His voice was quiet, low. No edge, no tone. He didn't have a cover identity prepared. He hated improvising.
"You alright?"
He asked, as if she hadn't just been a smear in the air a moment prior.
"Bit too much to drink?"

A trickle of blood ran from her nose. Nos didn’t visibly react, but a professional concern bled through his empathic barrier as he pulled a napkin from a nearby table for her.

He let her weight settle, then slowly stepped back. Still within reach, still close enough to keep her head from hitting the bar if she did feint. He positioned himself between her and the rubberneck patrons of the bar.

He hated the feeling of being watched. He could feel the eyes fixating on the back of his skull, trying to get a clarifying glimpse of insight as to what happened, now that the crash of the couple was less interesting.

Nos pulled a stool, more curt than polite, and said:
“Sit.”
He paused, recognizing any easy explanation for his presence was just lost in the contrast of his tone to a moment prior.
He tried to soften. Damnable glances of the room were too slow to fade. He forced a smile.
"At least until you feel steadier?"

Dank farrik

 




Steady hands gripped my shoulder and arm. One look behind me at the man's eyes that I had bumped into gave me the answer to the question that had already come to mind as soon as I was touched. He was merely concerned. How fortunate for me. I could not imagine how well I could run if he was some hunter after me.

"
Too much? No, I just-" I paused my words as he handed me the napkin for my nose. "Thank you." After setting down my wine glass on the bartop I proceed with taking care of my bleeding nose. Fortunately it did not appear to be too much that had seeped from me; but still it is embarrassing.

In a near commanding tone he told me to sit after drawing out a stool. I gave him a bit of a double-take which I am certain prompted the stranger to change his tone to a more softer one. His smile was polite, yet his eyes gave off an uncomfortableness to them. The air about him seemed to be that of a former bodyguard to someone. Perhaps he still is; yet he is off duty for the day? My guesses can only go so far. The darkness of his skin tells me that he is either a Zeltron or a Chiss. My color-blindness makes it harder for me to tell the difference. That and coming from a world where both races are not common attributes to my lack of being able to identify them from a glance.

I sit myself down on the offered stool, but mostly due to really needing to, rather than because he told me to do so. "
I suppose that I am still climatizing myself to the different barametric pressure. That coupled with a few sips of wine has clearly spelled disaster for me. I do apologize for bumping into you. Did I spill your drink? Would you like another?" The partial lie that I prattled off sounded like a good one inside my mind. Still, he deserved a free drink for catching me, regardless.

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros



 
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Nos watched her dab at her nose like she was covering a cough. Precise. Controlled. She even thanked him. Most people didn’t remember how to do that when their head was spinning.

He shook his head at her offer.

“Don’t worry about the drink."

He didn't want to reveal it was still at the table he dashed from, a full glass next to a toppled stool.

Movement to the left.
A waiter, too fast, tray too high, brushed against Nos’s back as they squeezed past a returning server.
His hand flashed into his opposite jacket out of reflex – gripping a concealed vibroknife, thumb on the switch.

The napkin, the wine glass, everything stilled for half a second.

It was nothing. No threat. Just someone brushing past.

Getting too damn jumpy

While he tried to play the motion off as accidental, it pulled back his jacket, just enough for the edge of a holster and the matte black of his vest rig to show beneath the folds. The material under his blazer caught the light wrong—threaded armorweave, not fabric. Functional. Close-cut. Less civilian the longer one looked.

Nos exhaled softly through his nose, adjusted the jacket, then leaned back with casual force to give the server a cleaner path next time.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke again.

Wait, did she say-
"–Barametric pressure?"
Nos couldn't keep the confusion from his tone. That was either... that was either poorest lie he'd heard, or too rooted in fact for Nos to actually verify.

“Maybe that's what has that pair over there stumbling all over the place.

He motioned with a slight angle of his chin towards the couple that were still regaining their footing, the pair who had almost crashed into Liin.

“Barometric pressure and wine....”

 




I dip my head in acknowledgement as he rejects my offer and pick up my own glass of wine for another sip.

However I pause mid-sip as the man makes a gesture that I have only seen guards do. Someone got too close and he went to reach for a weapon. Not only that but I could see that what appears to be a well tailored vest is a lot more than that. So who is he? Did I really bump into him by accident? Or was he there on purpose,

I finish my sip and set my glass down on the bartop again; all the while my thoughts are reeling as to what I should do? Could I somehow slow the speed of time again and make a run for it? No. That would not end well for me for I would only end up even more dizzy than I am now. So if he is indeed a hunter or something, then it would only make it easier for him to get a hold of me. But even I know that it is mostly just my research that people are after.

When he spoke again he did not look at me. I find that to be very strange. And not only that, but I can tell that he did not believe my excuse at all. While not being the full truth; it was a partial one. And one that I thought could explain my bleeding nose appropriately.

I follow his gaze towards the other two and respond back. "
No, I believe that they have either had too much to drink, or they are under the influence of some spice." I have not tried any spice myself, but I did help an Underlord create a new spice product. It was all part of a deal a long time ago to keep me and New Cov protected. But that all fell through when the Underlord disappeared.

I rise to my feet slowly at first as I test out my balance. It seems good enough so far. I slide a few credits on the bartop beside my nearly empty glass of wine. "
Well, I think that I have had enough excitement for one day. Thank you again for your aid. Enjoy the rest of your day." I turn on my heel and start to make my way towards the exit knowing that either I will be stopped, tailed or let go. I am not really sure of which of the first two options was worse. But I am not yet ready to handle either of them if these abilities of mine pop up uncontrolled and unintended.

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros



 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Undercover Kit:
  • See previous post for loadout.

He hesitated during her walk to the door.
Three steps.

She felt immediately on guard, perhaps a rush of anxiety? Or something else.
Was his cover blown?
No, he never had cover set up in the first place. He was never supposed to approach.
If he didn't give her something to work with by the time she left, there would be no chance of success. She'll remember his face – and presumably the red skin, as Nos was unknowing of her visual condition.

Six steps.
Then he followed.
Not quickly enough to draw alarm, but still visibly hurried. Not slow enough to let her get out of range before a chance to speak again.

“Wait!”

His voice was raised, but not firm like before. It carried across the vestibule between them; asking, not commanding.

Outside, the air was clearer. Dimmer. No music. No crowd, no murmur of constant voices or smorgasbord of emotions seeping into his own psyche. Just the hush of transit lanes above and ambient city noise a level down.

If she wasn't frightened enough to run, Nos would catch up with her just outside the venue, before the open lane between buildings, his field-worn pseudo-dress shoes crunching faintly against plastocrete tile.

His shoulders dropped half an inch. His weight shifted off the balls of his feet. Even the air around him felt lighter, carried less pressure, less tension. Whatever edge he'd been holding in the bar had started to bleed off the moment the walls disappeared behind him. He glanced toward the doors, then back to her.

“I apologize if I startled you–”
A breath as he slowed from a jog, well before encroaching personal space. He kept enough distance that if she wanted to turn and run, she feasibly could. He was all too aware of what a man chasing a woman into the street looked like.

His voice softened slightly.
“please, give me a moment to explain.”

He shifted his stance. Arms loose. Palms up, unarmed.

“You’re being hunted, but not by me. As far as I can tell, not tonight.”
A flicker of honesty passed behind his eyes.
“I'm not here to sabotage your work. Or profit from it. Or sell it.”

He paused. He considered lying, but anything he made up on the fly would fall apart. Hells, he was still trying to parse the relationship between atmospheric pressure and blood alcohol content. Not exactly something you learned as a slave, and not frequent enough in adulthood for him to have considered it. No, anything he came up with, she would see through. She was a Scientist with a bounty, he was just muscle with a brain injury. Not worth the risk.

“As you probably have parsed, It wasn't by coincidence that I bumped into you. I've been tailing you, that's true.”
Another beat.
“But, if it helps, it's only because certain people need to know if you're a threat. Or if your work gets into the hands of someone who is.”

No badge. No name. No agency. He couldn't afford to give the whole truth, but hoped that a promise could salvage the operation. Even if it did, he didn't feel guilty for steadying the woman when she staggered.
He met her gaze squarely.

“If you can live with that, I won’t ask anything else. Not your process. Not your research. Not your contacts. I'm not your enemy. But... I did see the way that you moved. I doubt I was the only one who did.”

There it was. In the open.
Maybe that was a mistake.
He took a step back, lowered his hands.
A flicker of his eye checked rooftops, suddenly doubting the ease he felt now that he was relieved of the claustrophobic environment.

"Do you need a cab? I'm not sure driving a speeder in your condition is a good idea.”

Just a cautious offer. Maybe he was just paranoid.

 



And there it was. His voice rang out asking me to wait. I did not need to be a psychic, nor did I need to turn around in order to determine whether or not I was being followed by him. For it was very clear that I was.

I did not stop until after I was outside of the venue. I studied my surroundings first, looking for signs of a potential ambush amongst the buildings and the few people off in the distance. But I could see none. Yet that did not mean that the threat of it was no longer there.

Slowly I turned to face him as he requested a chance to explain. His stance and posture did not appear aggressive, nor did the tone of his voice. And so I gave him a nod in agreement of giving him the chance to explain that he had wanted.

And explain his did.

He was tailing me. And for how long? It does not really matter. Clearly my coming out of hiding was a bit premature. But I had wanted to feel just a little bit normal and to reward myself for a job well done. I deserved it afterall. Yet that only left me exposed to those like him that were on the lookout for me.

His explanation raised some questions of mine to ask him; yet all of that faded away the moment that he spoke of what had happened. My jaw dropped open slightly in response before I could fully compose myself enough to give a proper response.

"
I am not a threat. And I am doing my best to keep my research private. That includes what you saw. Or what you think that you saw. I just-" I pause and let out a bit of a sigh. "I just need some time to figure this out and get a handle on it. Whomever that you work for; they do not need to know about this yet."

It was almost comical that he assumed that I knew how to drive. But there was never any reason for me to learn to do so. "
And I will need a cab, yes."

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros





 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Undercover Kit:
  • See previous post for loadout.

Nos didn’t argue, let speak her piece; that she needed time, that whoever he worked for didn’t need to know anything. It wasn’t a confession. It was a warning. And a request.

He could live with both.

“I won’t file anything. Not unless I see a reason to.”

His voice was quiet again. Professional. Like someone reading a contract.

“I don’t want your notes, I’m not here to pull you into a blacksite or stop whatever it is you’re building.”

He glanced past her briefly—toward the shadows along the opposite sidewalk. Still clear.

“But I can’t stop tailing you. That’s not my call. If I back off, someone else takes my place, and probably my job."
A pause.
“I can promise it won’t interfere with your work. Or your life. Unless you do or I see something dangerous.”

He turned his gaze back toward her.

“If you see me again, just don’t cause a scene. That’s all I ask.”

He meant it – clear enough boundaries. He was here for threat assessment and surveillance, and his read on her fit more along the academic workaholic instead of Mad scientist impression. But first impressions could be decieving, and just because she might not be a threat didn't lessen the threat of those she might work with... or those who would steal her work.

“If you want the night to yourself, it's yours – no shadowing, no tailing. I'll call you a cab and you try not to bleed out.” Nos attempted a bit of disarming humor, pointing at his nose.
He was a poor comedian.

A pair of headlamps turned the corner. Nos flagged the speedsd with a subtle hand signal, then stepped aside, letting her take the curb first.

He was at ease – he was honest in his promise not to follow Liin for tonight, at least.

Because he wouldn't have to.
Because she hadn’t noticed when he steadied her earlier – the quick hand to her shoulder that kept her from toppling – had carried a tracker between two fingers. The tracker he slipped into a fold of her dress was no larger than a half-credit chip.

He wouldn't need to tail her tonight, but he also couldn't give up the operation so easily. Ideally, he wouldn't need to rely on the tracker.

For Nos, things were seldom ideal.

 




I had said my piece and gave my request for time. And now it was his turn. I listen quietly and politely as he had done for me. However what he says does little to ease my growing paranoia. For I had naively thought that I was free and clear of any manner of being hunted down due to my decoy laboratories being set up all over the mid rim. And now that I had entered Diarchy space instead of being in a neutral zone; I had assumed that others would not be able to guess such a move. But I had assumed wrongly.

Older questions resurfaced the momen that he spoke about another taking his place if he was to step away from this job. Oh how utterly annoying and frustrating! And even if I did get either of the two Diarch brothers to whisk me away to some kind of closed off sanctuary; I would more than likely still be somehow tailed and not to mention find myself living in a golden cage. This is probably what that Force Being had warned me about in my dream when I was close to finishing the synthetic serum. It had told me that I was creating a cage and would be the first to be imprisoned inside of it.

But I am stubborn and determined to prove the Force Being wrong. Just as I hope to prove everyone that is against my research wrong.

His attempt at humor was rewarded with a subtle smile. But I was still overly annoyed with the circumstance that I had found myself in. The cab had pulled up after he flagged it down and I found myself making a decision that I will probably regret doing later on. "
Well if you are stuck to me like glue because your superiors told you to do so, then you might as well make yourself useful." I slide inside of the cab and then gestured to the seat beside me. "Get in and we will sort out some ground rules." Now I needed determine just how much of a threat he could be; if any.

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros




 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Undercover Kit:
  • See previous post for loadout.

Of all the contingencies Nos had prepared, he hadn’t expected that.

Especially with whatever emotional resonance he had just picked up from the woman as she entered the speeder; it was replaced by conviction as quickly as it started.

His disbelief passed across his face, barely. The faint shift in his brow, the small recalibration behind the eyes of someone who always planned for escalation, but hadn’t accounted for a simple invitation.

She was serious. Stubborn, maybe reckless, but not panicking. That in itself was worth a closer look.

“Right.”

He slid in beside her without protest, not about to hesitate when luck turned his way. Closed the door. Let the cab pull away. Up close, her skin was still pale. He thought he saw a faint tremor - no - maybe not. Priorities shifted from rooftop threats to assessing her condition.

A few reports flicked through his memory—briefings he’d half-skimmed. Shredded ventilation system outside a kitchen, a half dozen rushed labs with blaster scoring, flame damage, odd corpses.

She didn’t look like someone who could cause that kind of damage. But she didn’t look like someone who could zip like that back in the bar either. His arms rested loosely at his sides. He didn’t reach for his datapad. Didn’t ask where they were going.

"Ground rules. Right." He should probably let her begin, but then again, his own request was simple; "Name your terms; so long as my employer remains confidential and no civilians are put in danger."
He hoped she didn't read too far into that second stipulation, it would be too easy to place him as law enforcement, dangerously close to the truth.

Other than that, he was willing to work with the target. He was already closer than protocol allowed. No sense pushing.

 



I watched him study me the moment that he sat beside me. Instictively I folded my hands upon my lap, closing myself off a little from his scrutiny. I lean forward a little, only to tell the driver of the cab where to go. "Fourth District; Cascades Estates please."

Leaning back against my seat, I turn my head towards the man as he started off with his own bit of ground rules. One in particular was highly unfair. "
Confidential? You cannot be serious. I need to know at least what government claims to have jurisdiction over my life. I have not pledged allegience towards any of them. So they should not be able to keep hold of me on a leash. It is not their right." What does he think that I would do? Go after them with blasters a-blazing? That was highly doubtful. I have barely ever fired a blaster anyways.

I turn my head away from him and look through the transparasteel window. Perhaps this is the cage that had been built; being tethered to someone.

Letting out yet another frustrated sigh, I continue on. "
And I have never hurt anyone; civilian or otherwise. So you need not worry about that part. I have never even been involved in any war." If he had read any files or what have you that his super secret employers had given him; then he would have known about that. One look at my small frame and lack of bulging muscles would have told him of that too. Living months on the run with a meal a day aided in causing me to lose even more weight. But settling here, I have been able to afford to purchase more meals.

"
So now for my rules. Firstly; you are to leave all the specimens in my lab alone. And do not worry, for neither of them are humanoid. Secondly; the Tooka cat hanging around is also mine. Be careful for she likes to mimic my voice at the worst of times. Thirdly; I cannot have you meddling in my lab, nor with any of my experiments. And I cannot have you making any records of them either. It was the databreaches on my first lab that created this whole mess with people hunting me down. And I do not want my research to fall into anyone's hands. Fourthly, I want to know your name. You already know mine, so it is only fair. And lastly-" I return my gaze to him again, intending to study his eyes should they meet mine, knowing that what I am about to say will throw him off his guard a little bit. "Do you know how to cook?"

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros



 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Undercover Kit:
  • See previous post for loadout.

Nos sat calm, still, quietly storing every word she said into a mental dossier.
He didn’t flinch at her complaint about jurisdiction. He’d heard it before and, truthfully, if she was in Alliance jurisdiction someone much less experienced would be keeping tabs on her.

Kriff. She said Government. Her assumptions were probably worse than the truth. But this deep in Diarchy space could cause significant complications if discovered.

“For the sake of both of our safety, I must insist."
He replied. Then, softer; "You clocked government right, and you're not currently in their jurisdiction, and I'm a long way from home, will that suffice?.”

He let the rest of her rules play out. Most of them were fine. The specimens didn’t matter. The Tooka? Odd, but not his concern. The part about experiments was reasonable enough. Databreach history lined up with her paranoia. Nos knew exactly how easy it was to lose everything once someone invaded your privacy.

Then came the last rule.
He flinched.
Her eyes were on his. Studying. Waiting.

“…Excuse me?”

The question landed harder than it had any right to. He looked away, instinctively about to deny any culinary habits.

"No, I..."

Then he remembered who exactly he's been tailing.

“... did you, um, read that? With your...?” Nos made a pointing gesture at his temple. Did she do some telepathic thing to find out? Not even Rubrus Squad knew he had been attending culinary arts classes on Alderaan. More often back when he was working closely with Lady Sylvia Organa Lady Sylvia Organa . A lifetime ago, it seemed. But his own question betrayed the truth.

Yes. Yes, Captain Voros was a novice hobbyist of culinary arts.

It wasn’t a confession, even if it reveal the truth. It was more a quiet accusation, as if she’d rifled through his mental sock drawer while he was out of the room.

Or it was an uncannily lucky guess.
Impossible.
He shifted just slightly in the seat, gaze flicking back and forth from the passing lights outside.

“Sorry, I... didn’t think that would be relevant, I wasn't expecting to..."
Another uncharacteristically bashful silence from the commando.
“...Beginner-level.”

He cleared his throat like he’d swallowed something mildly inconvenient.

“It’s just a hobby.”

Another pause.

“Don’t read into it.”

Too late. Much too late for that.

 




Oh how terribly frustrating it is when I am being denied what should be simple knowledge and a reasonable request. Or am I to only learn who sent him the hard way; by unknowingly doing something that would give them cause to have me detained and brought to them?

Perhaps I am going about it all wrong. Perhaps patience is the key. I suppose that I could rely on that instead.

As far as I could tell, he held no issues with my ground rules. However as expected my question for him threw him off guard. Yet I did not expect him to be embarrassed about it. And the suggestion that I had read his mind was even more laughable. Yet due to how uncomfortably he shifted in his seat and looked away from me, I chose to refrain from any laughter.

Instead I just spoke to him softly. "
No, I did not read your mind. I do not know how to, nor would I want to. If I knew how to read minds, is it not safe to say that I could easily have had all of my questions answered without having you speak? Yes it would. But I am not some powerful Force Wizard. So reading anyone's mind is out of the question." That last part was spoken not only for his sake, but for the driver of the cab that could be listening in on our conversation as well. "I only asked about the cooking because I do not know how. And finding the time for private lessons is not exactly an easy thing for someone living on the run can do. Now I am not looking for lessons, but perhaps from time to time when leaving my laboratory is not entirely possible; I may not have to worry about starving?"

I return my gaze back to the window as the cab approaches the Cascade Estates gates. Perhaps he views me as some kind of scary monster. Who knows what his super secret employers have told him about me. Yet I should be the one uncomfortable. Not him.

The cab comes to a stop. I lean forward and pay the driver my fare, plus tip. I then wait for the door to be opened so that we can both get out. "
I have yet to hear your name, you know. That was one of my conditions. Or should I just make one up for you?" I give him a bit of an amused grin, again offering up the unexpected.

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros




 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Undercover Kit:
  • See previous post for loadout.

Nos nodded when she clarified that she had not read his mind. Good. Still didn’t explain the precision of her question. The angle. The timing. But it might have given away how much Intel he had, that he has suspected such. Nos shifted again, more subtly this time. Less embarrassment. More calculation. The shame, that strange little flash of it at having some human aspect, was filed away, masked under a restored composure.

The admission that she couldn’t cook drew made his past reaction feel all the more exposing. It had been just a lucky guess. He continued to her not-quite-vent. There was a strange sort of practicality in it. asking not not for lessons but for someone to cook from time to time. It was surprisingly disarming, and a small price to pay to avoid waiting on rooftops in whatever weather, peeking through a scope and eating nutri-cubes.

He turned his eyes toward her profile in the window, voice low.

“If thats's what you want... Yeah. I can handle a few meals.”

Just the offer, plain, a transactional deal. A form of field logistics. He’d certainly done worse on recon ops, this surely didn't breach any form of protocol...

The cab slowed. The speeder turning between lanes, causing a shift in the passing lights.

"I have yet to hear your name, you know. That was one of my conditions. Or should I just make one up for you?"

He squinted at her as if she'd handed him a brush and asked him to paint a target on his back. It wouldn't be the first time a simple request had gotten him in trouble - the burn-and-rip scar along his left cheek was enough reminder of that.

He wouldn't even have to come up with a codename... but something told him a little trust here might be the right move.

“…Nos.”

There was a short moment of hesitation. A simple search on the Holonet could expose his affiliation by name. His culinary pasttime, he decided, was a closer kept secret than his name.

“Nos Voros.”

His eyes flicked to the passing streets as he scanned the shadows by rote. The habits didn’t stop in transit.

Perhaps he ought turn the question to her.

"Do you still go by Tera?" He asked, mindful of the cab driver's ears without revealing her past identity.

 



Well that was a relief. I do not plan to have him cook every day or every week. But every once in a while would be nice. At times I can be so engrossed in my work that I lose a sense of time. Not only that; but with these new abilities of sorts showing up; who knows if I would be mindful enough to eat. At least with him being tethered to me, I would have someone watching over me.

Almost like a bodyguard. I frown slightly at the memories of previous bodyguards. Each of them are against my work and one of them even threatened me. Such responses caused me to withdraw even moreso than I am now. And it caused me to finally accept the offered sanctuary from the Diarch brothers.

The driver of the cab opens up the door and I wait for my turn to get out. My companion of sorts gives me his name and I bow my head in thanks. Only to then hear his follow up question. "
Not really, no. Only for purchasing things. However I may not have to worry about that nowadays." I can have others purchase things for me now.

"
After you." I gesture for him to exit the cab so that I may do so as well. "There is a guest room in my suite, or rather a few. They rented me the whole floor. You are welcomed to it. Unless you prefer other accommodations? It does not bother me of which that you choose."

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros



 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor Undercover Kit:
  • See previous post for loadout.

Nos stepped out of the cab first, per her offer, field-dress shoes crunching quietly against the estate's smooth stone drive.
No movement. No sentries, no doormen. No shadows in the flanking archways. He scanned anyway.
His fingers never went to a weapon, but his eyes did the work. Entry points. Elevation. Line of sight.

Habit.

He stepped aside, held the door for her without comment, and glanced up at the building in full—several floors, but no other occupants. Whole level rented to one person.
He exhaled through his nose.

“Whole floor’s a lot of space.”

Said less as a judgment, more as an observation.
He didn’t move yet. Not toward the entrance. Not until she was out and moving too. Not until he could watch her steps and check if she stumbled again. Not until he was sure this wasn’t a decoy too.
A whole level to herself. A laboratory. Cats that mimicked her voice. Potentially synthetic Force user. It was the kind of op that should be on a ten-man handler roster—intel, logistics, Force specialist, containment. Instead it was just him.

And she’d offered a room. Just like that.
Nos shifted his stance, hesitation evident only in the faint narrowing of his eyes.
Back when he was a kid, before Sylvia took him in, someone once offered him stew. Out of nowhere. First warm meal in weeks. He didn’t touch it. Watched it cool. Then bolted. Took him a month to accept food again, and even then, only after bleeding for it.

This wasn’t that. But the instinct didn’t know the difference.
Still. He stepped forward.

“Guest room’s fine.”

That was as close to gratitude as he gave.
A dry pause, then quieter—

“If I cook, you eat.” A beat. “That’s the trade. No skipping meals.”
Arguably, that could be considered endangering a civilian... Even if it was herself.

He didn’t look at her after saying it. Just kept walking, scanning every hallway, corner, panel, and ceiling fixture they passed.If he was going to be the shadow assigned to this project, he’d memorize every floorboard on the way in.

It was compulsion at this stage. Hypervigilance from a lifetime punishing oversight.

 




I slide myself along the seat after he exits the cab and then step out of it myself. I gaze up at the building as he does. In truth I am not completely used to it myself, but for now it is home. Perhaps for the rest of my life; however short that may be.

"
After being confined to small spaces while on the run; I welcome the open space. And at least here I can have some level of safety that I would not have in other sectors. At least here I am not locked up."

The threats of death and imprisonment have been thrown my way. And all because I have the courage to make a dream of mine into a reality. I am the l least of the Galaxy's problems, yet some old allies treat me like I am some war criminal.

As we approach the building entrance, the doors open for us. "
He is with me," I say to no one in particular. A security detail keeps a watchful eye on me here, even when I do not see them. Only the bedrooms were free from the cameras for privacy reasons.

Nos accepts one of the guest rooms, but then gives me in what I can only guess is an afterthought of my ground rules. If he cooks, then I am to eat.
"I do not always intend to skip a meal. It is just that on some days time just gets ahead of me and I simply forget. Everyone goes through that, I am certain." It is a half truth, but it is the only truth that I want others to know about.

I lead him to the lift. A biometric scan of my hand opens the lift's double-doors. Once inside another scanner reading my eyes gives power to the lift and sends it upwards. There are no buttons to press. It is powered just with a glance.

"
How often do you have to send in your reports? Holo-communication is severely limited in this building." And all to protect my data. Although in truth a lot of it is written by hand onto paper. The calculations may take a bit longer, but it helps to protect my research from being stolen.

Before he can even answer my question the lift stops and the doors open revealing an elaborate sitting room. Multiple statues and doors outfit three of the walls while the fourth is but a curtained window that brings in a lot of natural light. And right now the sun was hanging low in the sky. It looked beautiful.

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros



 
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor Undercover Kit:
  • See first post for loadout.

The doors had opened. He swept the sitting room visually; windows, corners, doors. Too quick to be suspicious, subtle enough to avoid being rude. Just second nature. A private ritual. Then he stepped inside.

“Reporting’s flexible.”

A low murmur behind her as he passed from the lift into the room.

“No fixed schedule. No outgoing comms unless there's zero chance of interception. Risk’s not worth it.”

He glanced around the space again. Light draped across the furniture. Ornate, but not delicate. Nothing childish about the décor. Subtle. Practical. Expensive, but not flaunting. He walked slowly across the floor, a few paces at a time, measuring the softness of the carpet beneath his soles, the way the sun bent around the sculpture shapes by the window.

“People come first, mission comes second. Comms come last. Orders are fill the black box with Intel, don’t break cover.”

He didn’t explain what the black box was. Some kind of encrypted datavault, probably. Something physically hidden or personally carried. What mattered was that if he disappeared, someone would know what he saw, and be able to track the device. Not necessarily who he was. That was the insurance.

“Ultimately, they’ll pull me when they want the drive. Not before, unless something's compromised.”

Nos didn’t sound eager. He wasn’t. He hadn’t even been sure what the SIa expected to find here. His whole briefing had been minimal. Observe, record, evaluate. Dangerous if provoked, something about midichlorians and experiments - above his education level.

His gaze passed to the window. The light was catching her in profile again, casting warmth over the sharp architecture of her cheekbones and the edge of her expression. She didn’t seem afraid. Just tired. Defensive in the way people are when they’ve been attacked too many times to flinch anymore – at least, that's what he interpreted the body language as.

Still, he didn’t let himself settle yet. He remained standing, off-center of the room, weight shifting to his right leg.
He glanced toward one of the side doors.

“Which one’s mine?”

 




I approach the window and gaze out of it while he answers my question. It all sounded nearly theatrical; as though I was inside of some action-packed holo-spy-movie. Yet this was real. I am being spied upon and monitored by some super secret government. With their tactics, it is no different than what groups like the Black Sun would do in order to gain intel on me before bringing me in. For it is obvious by now that their bounty has done nothing to bring me to them.

It is all very laughable to me, yet in a horrible way. I just want to burst out laughing now yet I know that I will only end up crying. And this was not the time nor the place for that.

So instead I lock it all inside, turning from the window before I cross the room to where three doors line one of the walls. The middle one of which was double-doored. And directly across from that there was a wall lined with another three doors. "
This larger one is mine. You can either pick the one to the left of it, or the one directly across. The choice is yours. Feel free to look around. I am going to get myself out of this dress and into proper work clothes as I imagine you will want to see the lab. So excuse me."

I do not even wait for much of a response. I just open one of the doors to my bedchambers, step inside and close it lightly behind me. My eyes scan the room briefly before I go to my closet. I may be alone in this room, yet I do not feel alone. Every movement I make and every thing that I say will be judged. And I find that highly unfair.

Tag: Nos Voros Nos Voros



 

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