Ardent Underground

[Baros Sal-Soren]

Brentaal IV
Ardent Night Club

Feeling quite at home in the flashing lights and throbbing bass of the night club scene, Baros made his way through a group of young drunk partygoers that had decided that the entry way was the perfect place for them to starting dancing and grinding on each other. Sal-Soren quickly realized why they were there, the place was packed. With a casual glance, Baros noted the reason. Damned Life were performing tonight. Big score for any club. What was probably already a popular place had become a mecca tonight.

There was no way that his interests lay on the main floor, and as such he headed straight for the open elevator platform to the side of the large open planned room. At the base of the lift, a guard eyed him up, clearly recognizing him in the first few moments of his approach. "Mr Trozky is expecting you."

Barely a nod was offered in reply, before Baros stepped on to the platform. As he rose, he set his eyes out over the party empire that Ordon had created. It was surely not the only enterprise that Trozky had going on, but it sure gave one of the most enjoyable senses of lordship that Baros had felt in some time. His friend was on to something here. As the lift slowed to a stop, Baros stepped off and headed around a sweeping balcony towards the open, private seating area that over looked the dancing masses.

"Ordon...you old pirate...so good to see you," said Baros, arms open wide in time for the impending onslaught of bro-hugs.

@[member="Ordon Trozky"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

For a man that had more than one such contribution to nightlife on worlds beyond the one he called home, D. Ordon Trozky III did not see the club in the same way as those who made a life of patronizing the floor below. That wasn’t to say that the pleasures were not evident to him, or that he didn’t partake… rather, it was a social experiment, a study of behaviour and the masses of drone-like partygoers unwitting participants in a petri dish of his own design. Many factors combined to elicit a particular effect. Some outcomes were already realized; others, perpetually in progress. He was a scientist, an anthropologist, a businessman in this place; most of all, lord of this raucous domain in which mating rituals were alive and deviant self-sacrifice was rampant.

Ordon sat above all the action, ignoring the remains of a strong drink and two girls slathering themselves about his head and shoulders in favour of reviewing contracts for the corporation he was groomed to inherit; there were scant moments in each day that he was not working, even if it appeared otherwise. A cigarra hung from his mouth, removed only as needed to keep the ash off of his suit and the furniture. The girls could look after themselves.

There was only one thing… nay, one person for whom he would set aside his work this evening, and that person had just arrived, according to the short-code message his man at the elevator had sent on. He waved off the girls (who rose, giggling, and went to the elevator), gunned back the remainder of his drink, and rose to go greet Baros as the slightly younger, slightly shorter man stepped off the elevator and into his private world, being ogled by the two girls before they stepped on the elevator themselves. Ordon sported a brilliant, wolfish grin and plucking the cigarra from between his teeth, enveloped his friend in a strong-armed, back-slapping embrace once the two of them were alone.

“Speak for yourself, Baros, you despicable bucket of scum! Glad you could make it!”

He released the other man, and half-turned, gesturing to the seating area.

“Come, sit.” Ordon insisted, moving back in that direction himself, glancing back to Baros as he walked, his right eyebrow lifted. “Drink?”

@[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]

 

[Baros Sal-Soren]

The departing entourage were not even given a moment's attention. Ordon had been a friend for a number of years now but it had easily been over a year since they had last met. Baros was curious as to the state of affairs for Ordon's ventures, given that he was the one that first planted the seed in his mind for what eventually became Glitterstim. The company that was now expanding by twos each year was not a result of a particular desire to design clothes, but a realization that had dawned on Baros while he was in Ordon's company. Use what you have, and what Baros had was the ability to twist the vapid of this world to his will. Clothing design was something he could learn, working a room was something that he had grown up doing. A vision beyond the family name, this was Ordon's gift to Baros, and a place into which he could pour his boundless energies rather than chasing skirt. Thinking back on it, there may have been an ulterior motive for Ordon given Baros' pursuit of his friends younger sister.

"Water only," he said with a wave of his hand. He was still stubbornly staying with his pursuit of a life free of mind altering substances. It was extreme, but he had become addicted to control more than anything else in life. He would not be the drunk, young rich boy found leaving the contents of his stomach on the walkways of Coruscant by some ethics-free journalist.

The offered seat was taken, while he took a moment to look around the room. He was suitably impressed. It was sparse and utilitarian in nature, just as Baros would expect of his friend. "So...how is Awendra these days?" He said with a smile as wide and defined by good natured goading as he could make it.

@[member="Ordon Trozky"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

Ordon went to the small, private bar on receiving Baros' answer to the question of beverage, and pulled a bottle of water from a small refrigerator containing only that - water. He was about to close the door, when he thought better of it and pulled another bottle for himself. Getting drunk was something he did not do, having been raised to respect and properly enjoy alcohol from a young age, starting with watered down wine at dinner when he was a child. Not that he had never been drunk; it had happened all of once in the comfort of his parents' home and upon dissecting the experience, he had decided his curiosity was sated and had never repeated the act. When Baros asked after his sister, he stopped cold in his movements, hand curled over the top of the fridge door. A moment passed, before a breath whooshed out of him, tailing a low chuckle, and he closed the fridge, making his way back over to the arranged seating.

"Practising her trade, which if you haven't heard has garnered her some acclaim, and galleries all over wish to show her work." He handed a bottle to Baros as he passed behind the place at which the Sal-Soran man was seated, after which he rounded the end of the couch and took a seat on the opposite, facing couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. "She's in the middle of a lecture circuit, at present. Aside from that, she has been taking great joy in offering up her body for art students studying the human form."

On the last fact, Ordon's hand tightened around the bottle of water, a slight tensing apparent in his voice. He had never liked Awendra's proclivity for being an art model, despite the objective belief that she was a prime specimen of the feminine form and well-suited to do so. She was his sister, a Trozky no less, and the thought of countless eyes ogling her for hours on end like some stripper unsettled him. It always did. Ordon twisted the cap off the bottle of water in his hands and took a deep, hearty gulp from it, replacing the cap after.

"How goes business?"

@[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]

 

[Baros Sal-Soren]

Accepting the water, Sal-Soren washed the dry mouth away that had been developing since his walk from the speeder. "Remind me to sign up for art classes again," he smirked, "worked out good for me last time." He raised his bottle a little as a minor salute to their introduction years before. Not for a moment did he think Ordon would object to his continued inclinations towards his sister. In fact, he was pretty sure that was one relationship that Ordon would encourage, had not Awendra drawn such a distinct line in the sand in their last year of school. Ah well, bygones be bygones.

"Business is good," Baros said after another drink to wash away the distaste of failed relationships, "two locations on Corellia, one just opened on Coruscant and two down on the assembly line as we speak...Empress Teta and Rendili. Only the first two locations were opened with my own funds...since then the investors have been frequent and generous."

Switching hands in which he held his water, Baros casually pointed it at Ordon. "Not that any of that would have taken you by surprise right now. No doubt you more than aware of what is going on, you always know. Somehow I doubt you are watching the fashion holos though," he smiled at the thought of it, "at least, not for the clothes."

"How's the drug trade?" He said with a smirk again, the fact that Ordon had quietly made such a name for himself in pharmaceuticals was impressive. He was a legit superstar in the industry now.

@[member="Ordon Trozky"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

Ordon offered a small laugh at his friend’s quip in relation to his commentary on his sister. Had it been anyone else making the same remarks, he would be doing a great deal of holding himself back from breaking every bone in their body himself… but even so, there was a brief tensing of either his jaw or his hand even with Baros, when the subject of his younger sibling came up. Ordon, without a shred of denial, was possessive, protective, and at other times jealous. Nonetheless, the way the twenty-seven-year-old noble let it slide spoke volumes of the kind of relationship the two men had, but it still did not tell every detail. The number of true friends that either man had were very few in number, and both were well aware of the reasons. There was a saying that it could be lonely at the top; it was true.

“I’m sure Awendra would be absolutely thrilled to see you in the front row.” He nudged back, a bemused half of a smile pulling one side of his mouth up, one distinct memory of Baros being on the receiving end of his sister’s well-practiced slap when Baros was still daring to even attempt to pursue Awendra at the same time as other girls materialized in his mind at that moment.

The Brentaalan heir settled into the back of the couch, uncapped the bottle of water again, and took a long drink while listening to Baros tell him what his friend rightly suspected he already knew, in Baros’ own words. He would rather hear it from the man himself, than read about it, but his proclivities demanded that he always keep himself on the up and up. A fair grin cropped up on his visage, at the sort-of-compliment to his excellent abilities to procure information, as well as for the comment as to what Baros assumed Ordon watched the fashion holos for. To a certain extent, his friend would be right, and when the predictable question came, he capped the bottle of water and set it aside on the table between the two couches.

“The client base and the board are slowly beginning to see me for myself, for what I am, instead of merely another product of the bloodline from which they hope to maintain the status quo. It is progress.” Ordon spread his arms in a grandiose gesture. “I am continuing the work that my father doesn't quite have the heart to see through! I'm bringing the company into the modern age!”

He dropped his hands into his lap and laughed.

“I can tell you, Baros, that they don’t like it, and they don’t like me. But also…” He jabbed a finger into the air, in Baros’ general direction. “...there’s nothing that lot of decrepit, old codgers can do about it.”

@[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]

 

[Baros Sal-Soren]

How mature and grown up they sounded. Baros' mind slipped back to their politically charged discussions in the art study groups. Awendra had despised those conversations that Ordon had initiated. Baros had lapped them up. Now though, they spoke of investors, board members and the like. It was not the angle that he had imagined midst those fiery debates, but it was indeed a fulfilling result. "No board members for me, my friend," he said calmly with a wry grin, "the old codgers, as you so adequately decribed them, are lining up to give me there cash. It makes them feel young again to be involved in something like Glitterstim I guess."

He continued to chuckle slightly as the laughter subsided. "I do not envy your position of bringing a dinosaur out of the Imperial era. At least I get to create something fresh. You have my respect, my friend, just don't ask for any of my money," he said with a pointed finger of his own.

He picked up his drink, and took a deep breath. The scent of the party scene down below filled his nostrils. He instantly regretted breathing in so deeply, but did not let it show. "Speaking of my money, I am here because you wanted to talk business...as in working together. I am interested to see how Glitterstim can help sell the aged anti-hair loss drugs...or vice versa."

@[member="Ordon Trozky"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

Ordon settled back into the couch, his pointed gesturing having had lifted him forward, a look of amusement etched into his features at the mere fact that Baros would think he’d ever ask his friend for money… and despite that, Baros’ mentor was not so naive to think that he was untouchable. It was why he invested, why he made his own successes while continuing to aid in the growth of the corporation that he had spent his entire life being groomed to take over upon either the retirement or death of his father. He was ambitious, but not to the degree that he would sacrifice his family to his ambition. It was one of the few things that set him and those of his line apart from a number of the other houses.

The expression on his face faded away as he leaned forward to pluck his bottle of water from the table, only to return to his leisurely position in the couch across from Sal-Soren. He unscrewed the lid, lifted the bottle to his mouth, and tipped it upward to allow the cool liquid to flow into his mouth, across his tongue, and down his throat. Only when the bottle was lowered and capped again, did he answer.

“I mean to expand, Baros.” He began, every mote of his voice calmly broadcasting his serious intent. This was the very heart of the thing that drew the ire of the board, and gave even his own father pause. “My family has not done business outside of the borders of the Republic since long before my grandfather was born. They have been cautious for too long.”

His mouth started to sprout a grin, again.

“Besides that, I’d like to see how a couple other worlds handle…” He gestured out to the floor below, his head and eyes following suit. “...the way I run the night while I am still somewhat of a free man.”

Ordon withdrew his outstretched arm, and returned his gaze to the man across from him.

“Tell me you wouldn't disagree with my being a little more… accessible.”

@[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]

 

[Baros Sal-Soren]

Expanding? The idea of a business partnership with Ordon was intriguing, but also something of which he would be wary. He knew Ordon. He knew his tactics his style of management. Baros had taken the media player route, Ordon was the shark in the boardroom. Each was successful in its own way, perhaps combined it would be nigh on unstoppable. Perhaps it would destroy their friendship. One would not be considered unwise to tread carefully when entering business with Ordon Trozky. Before Baros answered he mulled over his water. Perhaps a shot would not go amiss now.

Thankfully, Ordon deviated the discussion with what could only be described as an insinuation of his intent to marry, or at least work the field.

"Ordon, I doubt even the most purest of Hapan virgins could not keep you chained down."

A wry grin formed. The thought of Ordon marrying was clearly a power play. Solidifying his position somewhere with some group that he wished to exploit gradually and carefully.

"Or is it...love that you crave?" The mere thought of it was enough entertainment for the year.

@[member="Ordon Trozky"]