Chaos Choreography [CIS Dominion | S-38]

[Malok]

Objective: Dance! Everyone is watching!​

Location: Media Station, Neutral Space​

Tag: [member="Valencia Hadley"] | [member="Muad Dib"]​

By no means was the Vicelord a religious man, yet the way his thoughts wove in a frantic mantra were almost prayerlike in nature. As his dazzling partner led them onto the glossy floor, the Sith began to think the words "don't be dumb, don't be dumb, don't be dumb." He was careful not to let his lack of confidence bleed into his posture, as that would surely see the two of them stick out like sore thumbs. Rather, he simply gave Valencia's hand a light squeeze as she began to lead them through the steps; as if to quietly say I trust you on this one. As the seconds rolled by, it seemed as though Darth Metus' faith was well placed.

It was remarkable how effortlessly she moved about the floor. He was, more or less, a prop which made the star of the moment look better. If all he had to do was step as she directed and not step on her feet, he felt that there was hope to get through this without karking things up too tremendously. That is, until she asked a question in that velvet tone of hers. From behind his mask, the Sith's eyebrows shot to the ceiling; but there wasn't really much room to protest. You're not talking chips and dip, are you? came his response, once more directly into her mind. This time, he chose not to speak verbally solely due to the fact that his voice may have quaked at the thought. Here he was, a former Mand'alor, a literal Sith Lord, and a Commander-in-Chief worried about dropping his dance partner.

Armies and death he could deal with. Letting Valencia thud to the floor? Nope. Nope. Nope. The mantra of "don't be dumb" quickened in his mind as they continued to move about the floor, culminating when she twirled towards him. She leaned back, once more doing all of the work, and all Darth Metus had to do was catch her. He braced his feet and let her dip into his arms before righting her in one quick motion. It was a faster dip than those around them, but the opening number was drawing to a close and no one would be too concerned. He hoped. Regardless, he now had his heart thundering in his throat as she let her take the lead once more.

I give you full permission to put two in my skull, and to intervene next time. Actually, put two in the skull of whoever suggests anything like THIS again. he said, offering a toothy grin for the camera.

For now, he was more than happy to follow her into the background as the next wave of dancers made their debut. They would have a precious few moments to stay in the dressing room as the first round kicked off; and after a number like that the Sith needed a second to breathe. Yet, as the migration began, he felt something. It was...familiarity...like smelling a perfume on the air and recalling a memory tied to it. His gaze turned, attempting to identify the source of the vague sensation - and his eyes fell upon the archangel who had claimed the stage. Now, Darth Metus wasn't smiling for the camera, he was smiling for real.

Motherkarking [member="Muad Dib"] was back.

 

[Alexander]

Location: Media Station, Neutral Space​

Objective: Dancing in the Streets!​

Wearing: The Usual​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

She was stuck between a rock and a hot place.

As the Ghost of Endelaan continued to sprint down the hall, it seemed that his attempt to slow the assailant down had more success than he had hoped for. At best, Ephraim assumed that the woman would manage to vault over the lumping stacks of metal, or skid around them. However, as their mammoth forms slammed to the ground, the assailant found herself pinned underneath one. What's more, the monstrosities that were quickly becoming the target of this operation found a source of fresh meat. From the fallen locker they slithered, attempting to sink those many rows of teeth into her.

Ephraim had half a mind to sit back and watch the disgusting things make a meal out of her, as that would make good on his threat of "stop or die." But. The nature of the situation demanded answers. He needed to know what caused these worms, where they came from, and how to get rid of them permanently. This fallen crook was, at least in his mind, his best hope for answers in the moment. Thus, as he drew close to the woman, the Ghost made a snap decision. His offhand reached out towards her and his fury shrieked forth as a torrent of lightning.

The bolts struck the handful which was closest to the fallen woman, before he moved his hand in a sweeping motion. His assault was indiscriminate - striking every single one of the beasts that he could lay his eyes on. He wasn't careful not to strike the fallen locker, but given that he wasn't putting his full might into the assault, the conducted charge would only give the woman extreme discomfort in her legs. After but a few moments, the Ghost found that the monstrosities had been felled. At least, for the moment. Now all that remained was the woman.

"See what happens when you don't listen?" he began, sliding a single foot underneath the fallen locker. It wouldn't take much leverage for him to hoist the locker and get her free; and she would be able to determine that as well. "Now, you're going to tell me everything you know about these beasts, and I'll see about getting you free. If not, well, I'm sure there are more of them who want a snack."

He paused, blinking once so that his HUD might send a message. [member="Lirka Ka"], by being nearby, would receive it. "We got any more info on these things?"

 

[Valencia Hadley]

Objective: Dance! Everyone is watching!​

Location: Dance of Die Studio in S-38​

Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Muad Dib"]​

​

Valencia felt her breath catch for just a moment as she felt herself falling backward, but it seemed that her dance partner was capable enough to both catch and upright her in record time. She suppressed a chuckle as she spun out to the end of his reach again, facing the audience and giving them another stunning smile, carefully dipping at the waist in a bow before she released the Vicelord's hand and took his arm once more, striding towards the edge of the stage.

"I'm not much of a shot with a blaster, but I'll figure out another way to ensure they don't force you into anything this fun ever again," her tone was both jovial and a touch mocking as they reached the edge of the stage, the next round of dancers hurrying passed to take their places. It was true that she'd been able to feel a tension in him that she'd never seen there before - but he'd done wonderfully, and hadn't even trampled her toes in those ridiculous heels once. It was a marked success in her opinion. With a few lessons he might even be able to lead a dance or two of his own, should he be interested in learning. Though she suspected that now would be a poor time to mention it, as when she turned to face him, out of sight of the audience, she noted that his attention was elsewhere.

She easily slid her arm from around his and leaned around him to see what had captured his attention. She blinked a few times behind the horned mask as her eyes settled on a gentleman wearing a massive set of white, feathered angel wings. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as she watched the next round of dancers hit the stage. Yes - that would account for the Vicelord's distraction, certainly. Scantily clad dancers were guaranteed to be a hit.

"Perhaps I'll leave you to this then - I need to get out of this straight jacket," her tone was still sweet and jovial, her hand rising to gently pat his shoulder once as she turned. The sound of her heels carrying her across the floor was muffled by the audience's uproarious approval of the heavenly themed presentation that was beginning behind them. She lifted her hands to tug at the simple black ribbons that were twined in her hair, the mask that covered her face tumbling down to rest around her neck. The makeup she'd applied was indeed as dramatic as she'd imagined, all black and purple and stark against her pale skin - and the blue eyes behind it all were ghostly.

Those sure strides brought her to the dressing room in short order and she pushed her way inside, almost immediately kicking off the heels and making for the clothing she'd brought with her.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Media Station, Neutral Space
Objective: Dancing in the Streets!
Wearing: All Black
Tag: [member="Ephraim"] | [member="Lirka Ka"]


Shakti's fingers curled around the top of the locker that lay firmly across her legs and began shoving at it hard, her teeth gritted tightly enough that her head ached as she fought to free herself. This was a fine mess - she'd spent years training herself not to let tiny noises distract her like this, but it seemed that it had been wasted when it came to some random slug monsters. Perfect. Well done. Karking wonderful.

The sound of those tiny wriggling bodies brought her attention back to the approaching slugs and she quickly shoved herself up into a sitting position to avoid those rows of tiny teeth. The pain that shot through her legs was exquisite. She blinked hazily as a myriad of colours washed across her vision for a moment, able to feel very clearly where one of her ankles had been crushed, and her thigh likely also damaged.

A warm splash of ichor and other distasteful liquid splattering across her side brought her back to the hall in an instant, however. Her head moved on a swivel to watch as several more of the slug-like monsters burst around her. Though, whatever was causing the slugs to die then hit the lockers and she was lost once more to the agony in her legs.

Her lips parted in a silent scream as her hands wrapped around the metal once more and began pushing at it feverishly. She could feel it moving an inch or so, but it wasn't going to be enough to free her legs - not that she'd be able to use them for a time anyways... Being a Firrerreo came with a number of perks, but even with her expediated healing, this was going to take some time. She swore colourfully in her mind as she turned her head to set those scalding green eyes on the approaching merc.

The grimace she gave him was scathing, but she kept silent. She did her best to keep her mind off the waves of pain that were washing up from her legs, instead choosing to focus all that energy on showing him exactly how unimpressed she was with his method of slowing her down.

 

[GNN]

Objective: Reporting. Bad Banter. Dance Footage
Location: Press Box, Media Station, Neutral Space.
@Anyone Dancing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0speF0oUdjo​

GNN The News You can Trust!​

“This is Danzel Kvinan and Marci Rogersi coming to you live from the Southern Systems Final Season of Dance Or Die. I don’t know about you Marci but I for one am excited with just how things turned out.” There was some applause for the dancers going on, and the camera pulled over to the participants.

“Oh I am Danzel, believe me, I am, would you just look at the room.” The holocam pans around the stage, taking in all the people they could see, the lights, the cameras. “How can anyone not be on the edge of their seats with this kind of setup” They took their time to get a great shot of it all, as the room sold itself, dancing was easy to make look good on camera.

“Who will it be that’s going to steal the show, that’s what we want to know. We at the news desk have our favourites, but what about you back home? Just who do you have money on?” Danzel leaned in to Marci, raising an eyebrow, and doing a terrible job of looking entertaining.

“Well,” her smile tensed, “not that we condone gambling outside of naturally lawful confederate approved locations Danzel, but my money is on Chad, nobody smiles like he does.” A big picture of chads grinning mug was on the holofeed for a minute, force help them all. Moving swiftly on, “I can see your point, and here look at the new supporting dancers as they come out onto the stage…”

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

​

Wearing: Outfit (sans wings) | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: One Czerka Knife, Concealed in her Hair | 2 Czerka Knives, concealed under the dress | Fire (Concealed under the dress)
Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] @Valencia @Hadley Ephraim [member="Calum Neth"]
Location: Dressing Room --> Dance Floor

​

The scent was maddening and overwhelming to the Sithling. It seemed to take over almost each and every one of her senses as she walked towards the door. A scent that should not be there, a scent that had no righto exist without her knowing that it did, yet there it was, and there it was moving around as well. How could it be? She was certain, more than certain, that her abilities did not lie to her; Madalena was a blood hound, she could scent species, blood lines, and… And family. She knew who was family with who, up to three blood jumps away. And she knew this was one, the one she was picking up, was only one jump away, but how?! She only had one brother, her twin, her Brayden, but this was most definitely not him.

Her hand was almost on the handle of the door when someone called her name. Well, the latter part of her name. Ms. Antares. It felt so weird to be called that, but the weirdness was strong enough to distract her from the scent and make her turn around, glowing green eyes falling on [member="Calum Neth"]. Her dance partner. Yes. She knew of this. Yes. She was working. Yes. She had a job to do.

Madalena nodded, a charming smile spreading over her features. "Everything is fine, Viceroy Neth," she said softly, "but please, call me Madalena." Apparently, she didn't like Ms. Antares. It sounded old. The more you knew, uh? Pathfinder Antares sounded better, but she wasn't going to demand her professional title when they were about to go on stage in front of an audience worth millions, maybe billions, in teeny tiny dresses and shaking hips.

Taking his hand, she flashed another smile, this time one that was worthy for the cameras. "Hope you remember your steps," Madalena laughed, and a flurry of quick steps afterwards, the two of them were through the curtains and up on the stage.

She had practiced the choreography time and time again. They all knew how it would be done; a few seconds of dancing together, some hip gyrating, something that resembled the cha-cha, and then split and take opposite ends of the stage where they'd be each dancing solo. And all this on six inch heels.

Break a leg, she sent to the Viceroy by her side as they began, and winked, not literally.

 

[Luca Donskoi]

[SIZE=12pt]Wearing: [/SIZE]Outfit​

[SIZE=12pt]Armament: [/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]None[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]Tags: [/SIZE][member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

[SIZE=12pt]Location: [/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]Dressing Room [/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]à[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt] Dance Floor[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]Post: [/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]2[/SIZE]​

​

​

[SIZE=12pt]If one had to pick just a single breathtaking feature of the woman that stood before him, it would have been those eyes. The way they glowed like a polished emerald catching the light to sparkle as only it could. And as she turned to him, it’s the one most prominent feature he was drawn to. The holo-image that had accompanied the name he was give for his partner in this had captured a lot of what the woman was in a physical manner, but there simply was no way in which to truly do justice to the way in which those eyes glistened. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]“As you wish, Madalena,” Calum said with a slight bowing motion of his head amid her request to be called by her first name instead of how he’d greeted here just before. He had simply intended to just come across as polite and respectful, but certain formalities were not for everyone. There was no offense taken; everything had their things they drawn to and pushed away by. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]This was his first meeting of the woman though, and really…he had very limited information on just who she was, nor where she hailed from, but that information was of no consequence. They were both here for a purpose, and that was to fill in as performers here. Not that there was any qualm with that, it just wasn’t what Calum had expected among the various duties he’d come to hold since taking the position of Viceroy on Druckenwell.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Oh, Druckenwell. Another story for another day.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Calum smiled to her once more, as she took his hand and almost seemed to take the lead now. His dark brown eyes flashed to hers in an attempt to gauge whether or not she was just as unamused in being called here as he was. If this had not been written in her job description as it had not been written in his. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]“It’s not my steps I’d be concerned with,” he said in jest, letting out a hushed chuckle. He had every bit of faith in her that she’d be able to play her part in the routine, but still, he wanted to lighten the mood that more or less seemed to hang grimly in the air. Not just within the dressing room, but over the station. It was one thing his untrained sensitivity in the Force allowed him. He got these foreboding thoughts and feelings from time to time. He couldn’t really explain them, but they were there. This was one of those times where something just felt off. Although, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]He went over the routine once more in his head as they both turned and began their way toward the stage. There was a roar among the assembled crowd as it seemed the act before theirs appeared to be well received and then came her words through the Force. It was an ability he hadn’t the faintest idea how to do, but she just gave him the classic drama version of ‘good luck.’ [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Calum responded in a whisper, but lighthearted in nature. He couldn’t speak through the Force, so that was the only way he knew to respond to her. ‘Then you’d get to play doctor.’ It was but a thought than ran fleetingly through his mind.[/SIZE]

 

[Vera Mina]

Objective: BYOO (contract killing)

Post: 2

Howard ran for his life, trying to process what the hell that thing was chasing him. That wasn't a chiss. Chiss don't bleed white. HRD's don't either.

He cursed his luck. That was two weird ladies that had tried to kill him right now, he thought as he bounded down the halls in his gaudy suit, his lace crevat fluttering as he bounded down slowly tightening corridors with his shotgun, following his pre-planned escape route...right into the section full of brain suckers. It might not be enough against his foe. He guessed her to be an android of some sort.

That was doubly bad for him. The Amalgam had been an arrogant creature. Howard stongly suspected that arrogance would prove her undoing someday. This...android...had simply made a tactical error, also due to overconfidence. But it would never make such a mistake again.

But her target was Howard The Pirate, and just like Assassin droids never tried the same trick twice unless it was the most expedient solution, Howard didn't use the same survival tactic more than once.

As Howard passed through a crowd trying to get through the infested section no one paid him any mind as he ran through with a shotgun...he had done this more than once, chasing down somebody trying to get away after starting a fight at the club he worked at. Nobody could accuse Howard of not taking his job seriously. That and they trying to avoid getting their brains sucked out.

Turning around a corner looking for the brain suckers, he was forced to shoot one as he spotted Jackelina's body alerting Vera to his whereabouts. Whatever had killed her was long gone. "Yuck." Howard remarked as he passed by the corpse on the way to the bathrooms, where he flicked a switch he had installed under one of the sinks and the tiled wall behind him slid open with a hiss. It had taken him weeks to install and hide this under their noses. Not that hard, considering his special forces background.

It was a small crawlspace really, barely big enough for him to stand in but he squeezed in and slid the panel shut. Not three seconds later, he heard someone enter and open fire. He just had to remain calm...he had shielded the inside of the panel in front of him with blaster resistant materials. But he simply wasn't sure what this android's capabilities were...

Vera had entered both pistols out. People had cleared out of her way. One dumb guard had tried to stop her and had gotten knocked out for his trouble. She spotted the corpse of Jackelina and let out a small chuckle as she entered the bathroom. She kicked open the stalls spotting no one. Then she got the idea to use one of her enhanced vision modes. She switched to thermal vision, focusing and blinking once to transition to full thermal. She spotted footsteps...leading to the wall.

Vera blinked again, switching to X-Ray. To her admittedly immense surprise, she spotted a shifting, human skeleton behind a tiled wall, and the outlines of a hydraulic system.

Vera opened fire in delight, but her delight was stymied when none of her shots penetrated the barrier. This rat knew how to prepare...

The skeleton from her vision flinched in surprise, his hand hitting some pad in the crawlspace.

Vera yelled in surprise as the wall protecting her prey flew out at high speed with a pressurized hiss, smacking into her hard and causing her to crash into the sink behind her, breaking the porcelain and knocking her out of her x-ray vision as Howard bolted out of the crawlspace, opening fire in her direction to cover his retreat, forcing her to stay under the panel to avoid the buckshot before a snarl of rage made her lift the heavy panel off her and break into a run, only for Jackelina's corpse which had been propped up by Howard to delay her, to tumble onto the biot as she opened the door. She angrily threw the corpse off of her and pursued him the speed enhancement strips in her boots causing her to accelerate to three times her normal speed to catch up to Howard, which she was doing so rapidly, when Howard pulled another stunt, shooting something on the ceiling, having had time to go over station schematics, and had spent time carefully mapping the flaws in the system. His dense buckshot pierced the ceiling panels easily hitting the circuits he knew would cause a malfunction in this particular part of the system.

The fire suppression systems went active, mechanized nozzles went active and Vera cried out in surprise as she got blasted by extremely cold gasses as she ran through.

That wasn't good.

Much had been achieved with Vera's design. She was allowed a limited disguise capability and was excellent for multiple tasks. Nine Lives had pushed the limits of her intelligence to create such a creature.

But that doesn't mean there were not flaws. There are always flaws. Always.

And one of those flaws was extreme cold. She had gotten only a partial dose, running through them, but it was enough to cause malfunctions. Her muscles started to spasm, her skin going translucent on her face, revealing the skull as she vomited white blood, twitching as she continued her pursuit, one of her eyes rolling into her head as she malfunctioned, but refusing to let him go. He had already embarrassed her not once, but four times.

She only drew one pistol, her other arm twitching and spasming too much to draw the other, her targeting programs also malfunctioning as her shots only managed to graze Howard, causing others to flee as he tumbled, dropping his shotgun as she sprinted, though at that moment her legs seized up from exposure to the cold and she tumbled to the metal floor also, at the end of the floor a transparisteel cylindrical turbolift, capped with brass on the top and bottom.

Howard, now burned, scrambled for his shotgun knowing it was now empty as Vera fired at him, desperately trying to blow his head off but Howard rallied and managed to clear his way into the turbolift as the biot struggled to move, crawling toward him clumsily, her body spasming from even brief exposure to the cold. She vomited more white blood, the skin on her blue face stretching and shivering from even the brief exposure to intense cold as she squeezed off more shots at him, only to snarl inhumanly in frustration as Howard hit a button to a device he had installed in this turbolift's mechanism, and a visible, green energy shield dropped over the capsule as it took him upward.

Worst of all just then, her legs finally decided to work, and the malfunctioning sociopath sprang up, opening fire but to no avail as the capsule got farther from her, ascending.

Fortunately, she knew where he was headed, and that there was a turbolift nearby. The twitching, malfunctioning monstrosity began sprinting back, the fire extinguishers having been shut off remotely.

More of the lamprey like monsters seemed to come from the shadows of the darkened section and she was force to shoot them, further slowing her down. Howard had planned this...

Meanwhile, as Howard got a breather, he pulled up an access panel on the bottom of the lift, retrieving the small belt of incendiary buckshot he had hidden there also, beginning to reload his shotgun.

"So...Biot, I'm guessing..." Howard muttered under his breath as he loaded his shotgun. "Fething Saotome...alright...bring it on...I've played survival-horror games before..."

 

[Veronika Fleischer]

Location: Media Station, Judge Table
Objective: Increase show rating by being a judge Telling people that Jackelina died!!!
Wearing: Dress designed by fashion designer Jilles Kendel

As the host made the announcement, the show began to great fanfare. The crowd cheered wildly for the competition to begin, with the dancers making their way onto the stage. It was the judges' duty to see each contestant's dance routine while the remaining backup dancers follow the correct steps. It was simple in theory, but made difficult by the fact that the Confederacy had interrupted the finale by slotting in their own personnel as dancers. It made lots of people unhappy, including the producer Chad McChadstone but that was the reality on the night itself.

"Standby, getting the contestants." The earpiece crackled in her ears, letting Veronika know that the backstage crew were busy looking for the competitors to get ready. All four contestants needed to appear in the initial introductory greeting before going backstage to show off their routine one by one. While the crew was bustling, the celebrity glanced at the people on screen and found herself surprised by the people she had spotted.

Vicelord Darth Metus? You gotta be kidding. No way he can pull off those dance moves. And that's Madalena in an outfit that is just too tight. I don't know who their partners are... And who's that angel? We didn't... No... wait, isn't that [member="Muad Dib"]? I haven't seen him since our meeting with Katrine Van-Derveld.

The blonde groaned at the possible realisation that things might just turn out badly. Indeed, one of the fellow judges was about to ring the bell to send the backup dancers off stage. Veronika swiftly whispered words that encouraged him to stop, her words dominating his thoughts as he sat back down. She concentrated for a moment to summon a spell that increase her mental dominance over her counterparts to prevent such an incident from happening again.

"Jackelina is dead! Oh my god, she's dead!"

The screams from her earpiece took her by surprise, almost making her lose control of her spell. Veronika gasped with the rest of the judges who heard the news, her spell somehow preventing them from screaming their head off. The blonde felt her blood turning cold by the way Jackelina's body was described by the backstage crew, her body torn into pieces by an unknown creature with massive teeth. There was no time to lose. All the members on the stage would need to know about this. Veronika expanded her mental reach outwards, using the Force to speak to the five personnel on stage. That meant [member="Darth Metus"], the former [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Valencia Hadley"], [member="Calum Neth"] and the shaman Muad Dib.

"All CIS personnel on stage. Do you read me? This is Veronika. One of the finalists is dead. I repeat, Jackelina is dead. We need to focus on our mission and stop the rest of the murders."

The idea of letting Veronika being part of the judge had certainly paid off, even though they had started off on a slow foot.

 

[Daxton Bane]

Objective: Dancing in the streets
Location : Restrooms
Outfit: Simple dark grey tunic with a dark purple over cloak and hood.
Weapons: wrist needle thowers, three lightsabers.

While normally Daxton could not resist an opportunity to display his talent before a captive audience, his mission orders were quite clear.
Avoid drawing attention to themselves and blend in, the Sith Lord was certain that his ‘costume’ would fail to meet the criteria. He had been planning to coat his muscular form with scented body oil and take to the stage wearing nothing more than a silver mask, a thong and thigh high faux leather boots. He even had it already made when a certain Knight reminded him that he wasnt supposed to upstage the contest. So with very visible reluctance, he had the entire outfit sent to storage and selected a more discrete suit for stealth work.

Since discretion was part of this mission, he donned a dark gray hooded suit that allowed him to lurk in the shadows backstage without drawing too much attention to himself. In cases where observation could not be avoided a few jedi mind tricks were used to cause a proper distraction as needed, or force hypnotic suggestion to make them forget seeing him.

Using Shatterpoint he was following the one called Jackelina, although unfortunately he was arrived too late to prevent her demise. With practised ease he pointed his needlers at the slug like creature and fired a full volley into it. The high velocity projectiles were coated with highly toxic orbalisk venom, rendering the creature dead with a few heartbeats if it had no resistnce to the toxin.

 

[Kas Varad]

​

Objective: NPC'ing it up
Location: Media Station, Neutral Space
Backup Dancing, around the main contestants or off to the side.

[member="Veronika Fleischer"]

Despite the galaxy wanting to breathe a sigh of relief at ending this Mandalorian Tango before knives were involved from passersby or perhaps an angry husband took aim. Veronicas mental reach toward the stage would pass by the Varad dancing. The Varad’s were a strange lot, nobody knew why the entire clan had gone force dead, only that they had, like a wound in the psyche of a thousand vode. Thankfully she hadn’t concentrated on him, else it might even be disturbing to her, for him to appear not even there at all in her technique. Force Dead as he was. Not a hole in the force, not a blip, not even there at all.

It wasn’t until he had his partner braced to his chest, spun around behind him, and gripped in his arms to bend her backward, that he saw the gasping reaction of the judges. Watching carefully as he had been, Kas’s first thought was danger. He spun his partner up, still clutching her hands to keep her stable. Then let her spin till she was distant from him. There was a token nod to his partner, playing the part to blend in. The crusader reached a hand into his pocket, locating but keeping the blaster in his suit pocket, and went on over to where he’d finally spotted a threat.

[member="Muad Dib"]

The only one that looked suspicious, standing watching as he was. Maybe no more suspicious than a Mandalorian in a tango. If [member="Muad Dib"] noticed, Kas was somewhere walking behind him. Slowly. Like a practiced Bounty Hunter. No move yet made from the hunter, but with expressions of the judges previously, Kas was watching carefully. A killer’s eyes marking a threat. Force Dead. No force signature. Nothing there but the image of the suited man with his hand in his pocket. Then [member="Darth Metus"] smiled to the man, and Kas’s finger eased off the trigger. He blinked once and the hand moved to his side, looking around for a better gauge on things.

What had them panicked?

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka took her sweet time responding, letting out another gush of flames that consumed the hallway again. Though after appreciating the weapon for a few more seconds she decided to finally respond:

[SIZE=11pt]“They burn like any other vermin.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her response was short, and before the comms went silent again the sounds of the roaring inferno from her flamethrower could be heard. Someone must’ve been enjoying themselves. She was entirely uncaring of what was happening around the station, right now at least: the Sephi had consumed herself with the utter annhilation of these pest.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Shakti Sweet"] [member="Ephraim"][/SIZE]

 

[Kasca Fen]

Objective: Dance! Everyone is watching!​

Location: Media Station, Neutral Space​

Wearing: Backless Dress with a side slit that is almost indecent and these shoes​

Tag: [member="Darth Metus"] and Kas Varad​

​

​

It was chaos, this whole dance event. Thanks to working for Darth Metus, she now had the funds to dress however she liked. And boy, did she spent a pretty penny on clothing. Her hair was a cascade of pale blonde curls held back with combs of shining diamond type stones that matched her earrings and the necklace that fell down her back accenting the fact that the dress had no back at all. Her Jart tattoo peaked out from the side of the dress.

The contestants weren't entirely assembled but it was the backstage crewman that was ushering her into the room where the others were waiting that screamed his head off at the sight of the eviscerated body. Kasca's vibrant red lips opened in a soft O of surprise as she gasped and tried not to step in the gore that now covered so much of the room. The backstage crewman was losing their mind and holding onto Kasca's arm still. She pulled tightly on her arm but the other would not let go. His grip was like cement. The other contestants looked traumatized... as they should, and could not bring themselves to tear their gaze away from the dead body.

"Let go you Jackass!" She shouted in his ear with force and certainly loud enough to Veronika to hear on her earpiece and yanked on her hand again. The crewman was starting to dissolve into tears. Maybe he had a thing for the dead woman? Kasca didn't know but she didn't like being captive by his grief.


Veronika Fleischer | Calum Neth| Scherezade deWinter | Valencia Hadley

 

[Dawn Moor]

Objective: Seek and interrogate
Wearing: Rave
Equipment: a small tactical blaster; multi-tool; knives; various wires, diodes, resistors, and other spare parts

Location: On a transport cruiser heading toward Media Station

The trip from Delta IV to the station gave Dawn some needed rest and Dusk extra time to prepare. As the weary female laid in haphazard angles amid piles of torn food wrappers, her more studious alter-ego - unencumbered by Dawn's unconscious state - performed numerous checks on the Holonet while interfaced directly with the transport cruiser's communications relay. It was the calm before the storm, he surmised, as he rapidly caught up on the last two seasons of Dance or Die.

The mission was fairly direct in the abstract: a simple capture and interrogate operation. Not for the Confederacy of Independent Systems, but rather for a no-name local former pirate-turned-club owner on Delta IV who just happened to manage a smuggling ring of some legally sketchy spice that Dawn required for...medical purposes. Dusk's counterpart, the party-hearty Dawn, had somehow managed to charm the man into incorporating the spice trade into his business on the side, in exchange for her willing advertisement and service for a line of some new clubs. It impressed Dusk what a snarky attitude and digital skin tattoos could gain a person in the Underground.

The catch, of course, was that for the past six months, the pirate club owner had lost contact with one of his best supply logisticians in the sector - a man named Kan Kaan. He had taken on a job at a media company providing supply chain support and logistics for wealthy celebrities - a very lateral move in terms of job requirement but certainly more legally sound.

While Dusk streamed past episodes of Dance or Die, he methodically sorted through numerous records to find which celebrity Kaan had been assigned to. Due to the nature of non-disclosure agreements to protect the celebrity's image from being associated with potentially shady third-parties, finding direct information on the Holonet in regards to staffing was tricky. Instead, Dusk created multiple matrices of data correlating to behavior patterns known to him, referencing old account transfers from when Kaan served the club owner as well as quantities and frequencies of particular orders. From this, Dusk could feed the data to a sandboxed neural network, training it before feeding it public Holonet records on supplies ordered for the latest event.

Spectrum analysis and subject acquisition probability was currently at five percent. Expected completion time: two and a half hours.

Expected arrival time: six and a half minutes.

Time to wake up.

 

[Vera Mina]

Objective: BYOO (contract killing)

Post: 3


Vera, after shooting her way through the lamprey beasts, had grown irritated in the extreme. She was still malfunctioning, the prototype underlay her dress was equipped with needed at least two minutes out side of combat to start working, and only one arm was working. She thought of biting one of the lamprey things, but she wasn't sure if their blood would even be compatible with her systems. Besides, they were all dead.

The Biot staggered, twitching, exposed skin rippling like water, stretching, occasionally going translucent as she struggled to another nearby all durasteel turbolift, refusing to take a breather, for every second was another second Howard got farther from her.

The Biot finally reached another turbolift, the muscle spasms finally subsiding somewhat, allowing her to use both her arms as she warmed up. She knew where he was heading. An upper level contained a minor tram system that lead to a docking bay at the end. It was the only place he could be going.

Vera hit the button for that level, the underlay finally going to work, rapidly healing the cryo damage she had sustained. The "skin" reset itself into its proper place on her face, having actually started to slough off the muscles and skull underneath. The Biot frowned in cold rage as the turbolift took her up. Much as it irked her to admit, she was starting to understand why that Saaraishash had failed to kill him...but there was so little on Howard that she really didn't know much about him beyond the fact he had engaged in pirating and that he had upset quite a few people.

As her body stabilized, Vera wiped the white blood off a dark blue face, drawing both pistols as the turbolift came to a halt and the doors opened.

Once again the reflex collar saved her life because Howard, having apparently known she would use this turbolift was actually waiting for her and opened fire with the incendiary shotshells the instant the doors opened. Due to her malfunctions she had not thought to X-Ray the doors, and Howard having unexpectedly changed tactics was something her database had not anticipated. It was another weakness of her design--if her opponent's strategy was just too unconventional it was difficult for her to adapt except on the most basic level. That and combined with the fact that in lawyer mode she was actually more intelligent and Vera had a serious problem. Howard was right outside the turbolift, and when she dodged he angled in a split second to shoot her in the lift, but the speed an reflex enhancement strips in her dress and boots helped her dodge the blast and fire back, making Howard duck and accidentally drop his shotgun. She smirked and aimed both blasters and switched to full auto.

But the old man was fast. And he wasn't giving up. As Vera fired away, Howard held up both his arms, feeling brutal pain as the phrik plating built into the jacket repelled the bolts, but not the heat that cooked the skin underneath with each impact. Howard charged at full speed with a yell, slamming into her in the turbolift and knocking her guns aside grabbing her by the hair and slamming his forehead into her nose, making white blood spill onto his face. Though Vera couldn't feel pain under most circumstances, the blow still sent her realing as she felt her nose shatter from the impact, because Howard had hit her so hard, the processors built into her brain were jostled by the impact.

Howard's fists furiously bashed into her ribcage and she felt a rib crack, and her hands caught his, the dominator tech in her gloves just barely stopping him from plunging his combat knife into her chest and inflicting catastrophic damage. One hand grabbed her by the throat, even as she held his remaining knife hand off with one hand and he brutally slammed her head into the control panel in the lift, but a blow from a strength-enhanced fist caught him by the jaw and knocked him away from her and out of the lift.

Vera snarled, part of the ooglith on her face ripped away by impacting the control panel, revealing milky white muscles underneath, white blood stopped by the underlay from continuously leaking out as she drew her vibro-katana and dashed towards him bringing it down on his face with a hideous, bloodthirsty grin on her face. Howard, still prone on the ground and reeling from the very strong blow, rolled out of the way of one slice, blocked the next two with the phrik plates on his sleeve and parried the thrust with her sword with his phrik combat knife and kicked her away, hopping back up.

"You think your little knife will save you, Howard?" Vera sneered, the ripped skin hanging off her face on one side.

Howard scowled, inverting his blade as he held his ground.

"Lets find out, Biot..." Howard replied with a toothy grin, his face still covered in her blood.

Vera gave a feral screech and attacked him again. Howard ducked the diagonal slice with the plates on his sleeve, his knife whirling for her throat but she back flipped out of the way, directing her sword in an upward slice that Howard parried, and despite his comically gaudy attire as they fought in the corridor leading to the tram system, there somehow wasn't anything funny about him suddenly, his knife attacks as fleeting as a sudden gust of wind that forced Vera to back away and parry his blade, him literally bending back to avoid the sweep for his neck.

To her astonishment, Howard performed a torso-axial flip and plunged the knife into the lower left of her back, close to the spine. Vera knew that was serious, and as Howard yanked the knife out, Vera leapt and performed a roundhouse kick that sent him backward, his jaw almost breaking from the kick, only his will to live keeping him conscious as he sprawled to the ground...

...and right next to his shotgun. Which he grabbed and opened fire as she advanced. Vera dodged, and again avoided most of the chemically infused buckshot...

...but not all of it.

She caught fire as some of the pellets grazed exposed parts of skin. Her tissues were extremely flammable and her upper right side and part of her face caught fire, Howard tried to fire again as Vera let out inhuman, squealing sounds as she rolled on the floor, desperately trying to put the fire out, but the shotgun jammed. Howard sighed and limped away from the burning Vera, the fire causing the suppression systems to go active not a second later, and the now infuriated, burned biot who had just put out the fire, most of her dress still intact, pulled herself away from the spreading coolant before her malfunctions could start again, sparks from the half melted side of her face occuring as she grabbed one of her dropped blasters and using her remaining good eye to shoot out the coolant systems, the gasses losing strength and settling on the floor ahead of her, the air circulation systems going active and Vera, now throughly humiliated, pulled herself up, watching the gasses be sucked out of her way from hidden vents and checking her boots for damage. She grabbed her sword, sheathed it and broke into a run after grabbing her remaining pistol to pursue her target. She didn't care about the money. His severed head would be compensation enough.

As she ran, her dresses underlay kicked in after two minutes of tracking his steps with her thermal vision as she ran past a number of shops in a mall like area now darkened and closed down due to the lamprey infestation. Her flesh started to quickly repair itself...

 

[Muad Dib]

Objective: Dance! Everyone is watching!
Location: Media Station, Neutral Space, Platform

The archangel watched beneath mask as the dancers spun in synchronized abandon. His hands rested upon the hilts of the ornately bedazzled swords resting within their sheaths. A twitch of a grin stretched his lips as he watched the ViceLord pause on the floor, eyes meeting his with recognition. The grin stretched revealing the predatory smile that acknowledged his facade had been pierced by the Dread Master. It had been a long time since the two men had seen one another, and surely [member="Darth Metus"] knew that FUN was about to be had.

Grinning now he felt the presence behind him, or rather the lack of one. Being force dead was nice to have, but to one who was carefully searching the environment around him it left a slight void in the Force for one who was intimate with the miniscule workings of the field of power. Add to that the scent of someone he couldn't sense entering his flared nostrils and it spoke of an entity nearby. Turning his head he looked at the man [member="Kas Varad"] with hand in a pocket and stared with the glowing, blue eyes for a moment.

He said nothing as he watched the other man relax subtly at catching the expression from the ViceLord. Tossing the man a wink he raised his eyes up to where the strafing lights flickered over the stage. Perhaps the man would get the hint, perhaps not. Turning back to the front he laughed.

"Bored now."

Activating the repulsors on the pack he wore he rose a meter above the platform, the wings stretching out from the servos, and pulled the swords from their sheaths. Moving forward as the audience gasped in awe at what must certainly be a part of a dance number the applauded loudly with ooo's and aww's. Fire erupted from his hands and trailed along the length of the blades as the wings burst into flames.

Loud shrieks of metal was heard from the ceiling as meter long serpentine creatures with maws filled with fanged teeth rained from the ventilation ducts above.

With a roar of Glee the archangel spun through the air, launching flaming feathers with metal spines through the air to impale several of the creatures as his swords flashed, slicing through rotund, serpentine bodies and splashing gore into the screaming crowd as it became woefully apparent that this was not part of the season finale, but some form of terrorism that had been delivered upon the unsuspecting audience.

All the while the archangel spun in a whirlwind of flames and blades, a maniacal roar of laughter escaping his lips.

 

[Dawn Moor]

Objective: Seek and interrogate
Wearing: Rave
Equipment: a small tactical blaster; multi-tool; knives; various wires, diodes, resistors, and other spare parts
Post: 2
-=ENERGY=-

​

Nothing seemed more emblematic of the complexities of choreography than a media production set in a remote space station between multiple entities owned by various different private interests. There was the production crew for the Dance or Die event, of course, but there was also the daily workings of the station crew. This included not only security staff, in charge of keeping the crowds outside of unwanted areas, but of environmental crews, maintenance crews, docking staff, room keepers, and a plethora of other divisions that each had thin lines of communication outside of need-to-know orders to allow them to function in their jobs. It was a such a delicate balance of choreography that a single tip, such as an invasion of a predatory species left staff utterly confused about how to carry on.


Of course, certain divisions had received word before others, such as security staff that sought to lock down the station in a discreet and unpublicized manner. But docking staff had simply been left in the dark. So when a swelling of the panicked and confused public rushed their way into the hangers to get access to their respective shuttles, the control room was sent sprawling about to attempt to bring order into chaos.

In this confusion, a single transport shuttle had overridden quarantine protocols and proceeded into the hanger with little regard to staff and the confused, wealthy nobility that had hurriedly ran away from the shuttles intended landing spot in the middle of the hanger. After settling with a hiss, the shuttle’s hatch opened and revealed its single occupant - a palish woman with freckles and a the worst case of bed-head. She stretched and yawned, rubbing her eyes.
Huddled before Dawn was a mass of surly and confused guests who were shouting over each other and throwing daggered glances in her direction while she simply placed her hands behind her head and swayed into the crowd. With a weary and glossy gaze, Dawn meandered with purpose, sifting and shoving her way through the Never-In-My-Lifers and I-Want-To-Speak-To-The-Managers that littered the hanger floor. A particularly familiar numbness crept along the back of her neck and skull, leaving her feeling somewhat absent minded. But she simply went along for the ride as she instinctively knew the exact direction to head.

At the station entrance tunnel, several armed guards stood, halting a group of wealthy protesters who demanded to know, precisely, the meaning of all of this. The security staff remained stalwart and stone-faced, even as a lavishly dressed and well-painted neimodian woman stood haughtily with puffed cheeks.

“Look at these heels. These were my mother’s heels. Do these heels look like hanger heels to you? I wore these heels for Brad. Do you know what these heels do if I stand in these heels too long? My feet turn into melons. Do you want to explain to my husband why my feet are melons?”

“Ma’m, I’m sorry for th…”

“Sol! Sol! Where’s my husband in this Prison? Sol!”

“I don’t know wh…”

“Don’t tell me what you know and what you don’t know. I know you don’t know anything. I’m looking for my husband. Are you holding him hostage? Is that what this is about? What’d he do?”

“Ma’m I don’t know know your husba…-”

“SOL!” The woman shouted in a gruff voice. “Somebody find my husband before my feet turn into an all-you-can-eat melon buffet for the whole station!”

Unable to tolerate the delay any longer, Dawn pushed past the woman in the fur and bluffed. “Hey! You, with the gun and the datapad! Dawn Moor. CIS. Lookin’ for a guy named Sol. Got a Sol around here?”

The solemn face of the man fell upon Dawn with utter dismay lurking behind stone cold eyes. He slowly shook his head and muttered, “I don’t get paid enough…”

“You’re lookin’ for MY husband, young lady?” The woman stood over Dawn, glaring down at her. “You?! So skinny. What’s my husband doing schmoozing with this floozy?”

“Lady, do you want me to find your husband or not? Because I can just-”

“You said you’re with the CIS?” The security guard asked Dawn.

“Yeah?” She replied, staring down the very tall and portly neimodian.

The guard stepped forward and took Dawn’s arm, “Come on. Everyone, make room. Let her pass!”

The Neimodian woman shouted at Dawn, “If you find my husband, tell him he can eat his shoes for dinner. And have your mother make you a sandwich! Oy, these heels…”

The guard escorted Dawn to the hatch, keying in a code to open it while whispering, “I trust you know what’s out there. Be careful. And please, for all of us....find her husband.”

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

​

Wearing: Outfit (sans wings) | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: One Czerka Knife, Concealed in her Hair | 2 Czerka Knives, concealed under the dress | Fire (Concealed under the dress)
Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Valencia Hadley"] [member="Ephraim"] [member="Calum Neth"] [member="Veronika Fleischer"] [member="Muad Dib"]
Location: Dressing Room --> Dance Floor

​

Madalena chuckled at Calum's little jest. I fear I'm much better at ripping bodies up than I am at putting them back together, she sent back telepathically, but that's part of what makes me so damn good at my job!

And now on the stage, her lips curled as she smiled widely for the cameras, her body falling into tempo and following every beat and every step as dictated beforehand. Madalena was a wonderful dancer; but she was by no means a professional. The average audience member would not really realize it, but she knew the judges would be squinting, and that the posh part of the viewers would sneer their noses. It was a gosh darn luck sort of a thing that she really didn't care as long as she didn't majorly screw up.

It was only the message that came through from [member="Veronika Fleischer"] that made her pause in her step, miss a beat, and almost fly tumbling down the stairs. It wa sat the last possible moment that Madalena regained her balance and saved her ass from a embarrassment, hoping to the Force that the cameras and the audience at home had not caught that.

No, they had not caught that. They had something much more interesting to behold; [member="Muad Dib"], wings spread, and suddenly everything was creatures with teeth.

Yup. There was no more point in pretending this was your normal dance competition. Did the Viceroyal by her side know how to fight? Madalena certainly hoped so; these creatures had to be stopped before they decided to eat everyone in the studio.

Of course, that was exactly when the worse stuff started happening…

 

[Paragon of Virtue]

Tag: EVERYONE​

​

As the audience began to scream in panic, and the judges were held in their places solely due to the effort [member="Veronika Fleischer"] was putting into keeping them somewhat sedated via witchcraft, something else began to happen. Not even the jetpack and wings of [member="Muad Dib"], not even the overall beauty and high heels of other CIS-dancers would be able to keep it from happening.​

​

The very core of the spaceship began to shake, rumbling as though this was the beginning of a great and terrible earthquake on one of their worlds. But this was not a world; this was a space station, and the cracks could be heard, echoing through the entire station.​

​

Up came the floor, right dead in the center, and from it – the beast.​

​

​

​

And it was smiling for the cameras.​

 

[Kas Varad]

​

Objective: Worm Food
Location: Media Station, Neutral Space, Dance Floor
Tags: [member="Kasca Fen"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Eternal Virtue"]
@All active in the room.

He almost pulled out his blaster again when the swords cut the interlopers to ribbons,[member="Muad Dib"] but his nerve held well, pity he didn’t have a drink to back it up in his hand. Wait a sec, someone was running by in a panic and he snatched one. Kas grabbed the bottle and took a long swig of something way too expensive for what it tasted. Typical stuff you got at these kinds of parties. All fizz and no bite.

Wiping his mouth the Crusader looked at the worm creature bursting through the center stage. That's new. Taking a step back. Metal ripping everywhere, pylons coming down, Kas clicked his knuckles. Alright. One pistol and a Mandalorian in a suit. Getting behind an overturned table. Taking a few shots, but it probably did absolutely nothing. “Any ideas,” he shouted over to anyone, "be a good thing about now!"

What he wouldn’t give for a suit of armor in his pocket.

“Hey Ugly”

Shouting over the din of ripping metal, screaming people and general chaos. Back to the table, leaning up against it for cover.

“Don’t you knock?”