Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Dark Rooms and Soft Whispers

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
nightclub.png

I miss home.

Well, the Dohmus system had only been my home for a relatively short percentage of my life, technically. However, I'd felt more settled there than I ever had on Quilara, particularly after my recent trip back there. In fact, the hidden oasis had been quite the find. But it mattered little now. I yearned for it, as far out and hidden away as it was. There was a tiny part of me that wished to simply forego with all the business I had in these systems, return home, and run wild through the grass for a few hours.

But I hadn't become the Donna by simply indulging such fantasies, particularly when there was work to be done.

Besides, it was not exactly an uncomfortable place to wait. The nightclub floor was busy, patrons of all races and creeds mingling, dancing, flirting, harassing, and shouting over the booming music. The steady beat became the undertone of the din of voices, the pulse of electronic music, the chinking of glasses. I was glad to be up on the balcony, seated high above the comradery. The black velvet cushioned booths overlooked the main floor like some noble citizens might overlook a gladiator match. In a way I supposed it was, the rich sat up here, watching the poorer brawl and all but ravage one another below.

Honestly I wasn't even sure if he'd show. I had yet to do business with a Darth. As I waited in my chair, slinky black gown all but shrouding my form in the dark seat, I shifted a little uncomfortably. Was a nightclub an appropriate setting to meet a Darth? Was coming here without my coterie wise? Sure, I'd become adept at keep a suave, cool exterior, but within, I felt my cheeks grow warm. Hoped that I wouldn't disrespect him by choosing to do business here instead of... where would a Darth even choose to do business?

Did I even want to find out?

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@Darth Maliphant
 
________________________________________

Boomph. Boomph. Boomph.

The bass ran wild in the walls, filling the hearts of the drug laden freaks on the dance floor with more than enough monotonous rhythm to keep them going for hours, and leaving all the outliers watching, prowling for one of the herd to veer off; waiting for them, only pouncing when they weren’t distracted or protected by their friends. Scavengers looking for a one night stand, left to their own desperate hunts like the starving wolves they were; some even becoming territorial, looking to prove dominance by fighting their fellow carrion picker.

The ‘Darth’ couldn’t help but think the entire situation was somewhat humorous, knowing full and well that it was the truest form of human nature. To hunt a partner, to look for those with healthy features they could sink their teeth into, all for the primal hungers that lay latent in their minds at all times, even his at times. Lust was a driving force in these overbearing halls, and a force that drove enough credits to fund a small empire, if someone so wished.

Maliphant couldn’t help but smile at this, dressing himself in a blackened two piece suit with no pattern, only the matte black nature of the coat and pants matching with his belt and shows, the undershirt something full of flair; white and drawing to the eye. If nothing else, he dressed well, and with his hair braided back in his traditional formal manner, he maneuvered his way up to the VIP section.

Got a pass, man?”, the Bouncer asked as he stretched a hand out.

The sith reached into his pocket, only to notice it was missing. He hummed a bit more as he patted the rest of his pockets, only interrupted by the bouncer after a few moments of searching to no avail;

No pass, no entrance. Get lost, pal.

Maliphant made a mental sigh, not audible over the music nor his thoughts, but one that came from a decisive annoyance. Talking just over the music, Maliphant quickly attempted to salvage the situation;

You know, I must’ve misplaced it. I bet it’s right up the-”, he said as he pointed upwards to the VIP section only to be interrupted.

Didn’t you hear me? No pass, no entrance, now get out of here before I get mad.”, the bouncer reinforced, as if he was talking to a meager man.

As much as Maliphant didn’t want to commit to such, he annoyingly scratched his forward before waving his hand between the two, the bouncer quickly realizing his mistake if not through The Force’s convincing nature.

You’re uh… right… You better go check up there for it…”, he said in slow, drawn out drawls.

Good idea.”, Maliphant responded with an amiable smile.

With that sorted, in the least couth way, Maliphant meandered past and up the stairs, burying each of his hands in his pockets. It was one of his rules to avoid force use for those undeserving, to ensure he was always well grounded in reality despite his unruly force abilities; a slight paradox all things considered. Still, he had tonight to look forward to, another meeting to be made for the sake of his company.

As he walked towards the predetermined seating arrangement, he noticed the almost camouflaged figure of Ahtemis, looking over the crowds below with some noble gaze, as though she were above the rabble. Perhaps she was, but Maliphant could make no judgement until he formally met her, and so he doddled no longer; instead moving to the side of the table and offering her his hand, as if a signal for her to stand for their introduction.

A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ahtemis. My name is Darth Maliphant, I trust you didn’t wait to long?”, he’d say after kissing the back of her hand if she indeed offered it to him.

[member="Ahtemis"]
 

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
I spotted him making his way up the stairs.

However, it had taken a few moments for it to register at whom I was looking. A trim, black suit, juxtaposed by a crisp white shirt, hair tied into a neat braid. He could have been some suave businessman, rather than a knight of the sith. But as I shifted subtly in my chair, I chastised myself for the observation. Labels were just that, labels. Just because the man had 'Darth' in front of his name, it did not mean he had to be some mask-wearing, saber-wielding cyborg.

As he approached he offered his hand. His words were crisp and short, but polite, no less formal than they needed to be. I had become a master at hiding my trepidation by now, my face was a perfect mask of the same polite smile.

Reaching out, I gently accepted his offered hand, sliding my own into his and nodding slightly as the man introduced himself. Darth Maliphant. Burying the tiny prick of nervousness that threatened to race down my spine, I tilted my head down, lowing into a subtle, but polite curtsy (which, thankfully, the slit up the thigh of my dress accommodated for). At his question I shook my head,

"Not long at all, thank you--" I paused. My lord? Darth? Sir? I wasn't actually sure.

"My name is Ahtemis." My thoughts were chased away by the smile I planted across my lips. Taking a moment to tilt my head up enough to meet his eyes, I held his hand a moment longer before letting it go. With the softest of sighs, I gracefully extended an arm out to gesture to the other cushioned chair across from me, however, I wouldn't lower myself into my own until my guest had seated himself. Once he had, I would then politely sit back down, casting one final glance at the floor below before turning my attention completely to the Darth,

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," I continued, "I was intrigued by your proposal."


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[member="Darth Maliphant"]​
 
________________________________________

I was hoping it’d intrigue you.”, Maliphant said as he moved to sit.

He seemed to bounce on the black leather upholstery, if only for a moment before settling somewhere near the edge, just in sight for him too to watch those crowds and throngs of people carelessly pouncing and hunting one another. It entertained him, somewhere deep inside, little did he know he was once of the most prolific of the art; though that life was far behind him now.

My company, Blackwell Industries, is in the process of expanding exponentially. I’ve even made a council position with The Sith Empire for their economics, but their influence only reaches so far…”, he said with a mild disappointment, not completely giving her his full attention yet.

However, as he began to speak again, he leaned forward, resting both arms beneath him to support his otherwise rigid face, though it was contrasted by a warm and inviting smile; one trained over the years of being a socialite, the one predominate hedonist simply gave Ahtemis the most subtle of grins before he spoke again;

Moving my men out here would be too costly, too much effort.

A lie.

I’d much rather see what you and your… Organization could do.

A truth.

With everything a Sith said it should be assumed they might be lying, however the masterful art of the craft seemed almost perfected by Maliphant, to an almost unnatural degree. His expressions were fluid, his words dripped of silver, and the very look in his golden electrum shaded eyes seemed as convincing and genuine as a lithe boy proclaiming his hunger. Maliphant was no stranger to these games, even a modicum of his personality ran rampant through the conversation with the full intent of drawing her in.

Just a touch of security, Miss Ahtemis. Nothing too much.”, he said as he dismissively waved his hand, as if to simply toss the proposal away like it was pennies on the dollar.

[member="Ahtemis"]
 

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
The Darth perched himself on his seat, attentive, alert.

I tilted my body around slightly so I was now facing him, rather than the scene below us. However, while I gave him my full attention, the Sith seemed to only allow me a part of his. I'd expected as much. In fact, my heart was still racing in my chest beneath the mask of confidence I wore; I could scarcely believe he'd agreed to meet with me at all.

Now just to make sure I didn't feth this up.

To get in good with the sith would open up many doors for my organisation, even if some of my capos didn't care to deal with them. This had to go well.

He spoke, getting straight down to business. I listened intently, eager to get to things. I sensed that this could be a test just as much as a legitimate business opportunity. The Family had begun to make waves, he could be probing us, seeing how we reacted. However, this could legitimately be a need that only we could fill also. There was little use trying to decide which it is now.

"Security happens to be our speciality." I purred in response, allowing my nervous energy to instead fuel the facade of well-put together femme fatale, "is there a particular level of subtlety you wish us to exercise? I assume that there is a reason you did not approach a regular security company. I can provide eyes, ears, skills and weapons... the level of presence they visibly maintain, would be up to you."

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[member="Darth Maliphant"]​
 
________________________________________

Well…”, he said as he tapped a finger to his chin, looking her over.

The woman certainly carried a certain flare to her, though it seemed slightly mundane. Average in far too many ways to be the leader of a syndicate, knowing all too well that most in the industry postured themselves in beauty products and entourages, something to play into their endless vanity. Ahtemis seemed slightly different, as if she intended to fall into crowds at any given moment, that her face wasn’t her own, and certainly not unique enough to be remembered.

Interesting.

... I certainly don’t want other companies to know I lacked the ability to guard my own facility.”, he finished in a slow, testing drawl that threatened the pace of their conversation.

Discreet would be best, I’d feel horrible if they staged an assault. Of course, a few of my own men will be stationed there, but mostly for an image. You understand…”, he said with a dismissive shake of his hand.

In short order, a waiter came by and set down drinks for the two, though neither had ordered them. They were a mystery, but one that Maliphant obviously had something to do with as he grabbed the drink and pulled it to his lips, drinking slow before letting it back down, never breaking eye contact with Ahtemis.

[member="Ahtemis"]
 

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
I listened in silence, studying the lounging lion before me as much as I felt him study me.

Was he as nervous as I? Did he feel the weight of his label as much as I the weight of mine? I banished the thoughts by gracefully crossing one leg over the other; a small motion physically, but the movement helped distract me from my own thoughts. My mind then turned to the particulars of our arrangement. Already I had a few ideas in mind. I noticed the way in which he spoke as well, his tone and speed seeming to change and slow down. It was as if he were probing, testing, gauging what he could. I respected that.

"We will be the shadows your men cast upon the ground," I replied with a low nod. A little dramatic, perhaps, but it got the point across. "Image is important, believe me, I do understand. Don't worry, I know which ears to whisper in and which strings to pull. No one will know we're even there."

I leaned back as a waiter approached us, placing drinks in front of each of us. The Dearth reached for his, but I simply raised an eyebrow. Keeping our gazes locked, I waited for him to take a sip, before I reached out and picked up the other glass that remained. However, while it remained in my grip, I lifted it high enough only to get a whiff of whatever swirled within, before resting it in my palm.

"I can have arrangements made within the week."

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[member="Darth Maliphant"]​
 
________________________________________

I’m glad to hear you’re so willing to play my games. I know how tiresome it can be…”, he said with a subtle smile, bringing the cup to his lips to draw from it once more before setting it down.

Maliphant exuded a certain danger, outside that of even normal Sith Lords; one that gave a creeping uneasiness despite the beautiful contours of his otherwise effeminate features. That which dwelled within him was far past that of the conventional Dark Sider, and the moment Ahtemis met another she would realize what a stark difference came from it; the difference being that Maliphant didn’t truly look the part. His gaze was harsh surely, but the rest of him seemed somewhat… enticing, something so many before had realized; from the absolute strongest of Force Users, to even the mundane, it was one of his greatest oddities.

And, should anything happen-”, he said as he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small projected that fit on the tip of a finger, passing it to her across the table;

This will have all my contact information, including my current address on Coruscant. Just a small apartment I rented for short getaways from Sith Space.”, he said with a smile.

Don’t be afraid to contact me, so long as I’m on the planet of course.

Maliphant offered a soft laugh, one that seemed to drip with a venom of a predator; and that is what he was. The wolf in Ahtemis could see him for what he was, the apex of nature, its final creation.


[member="Ahtemis"]
 

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
... Willing to play my games.

[member="Darth Maliphant"] was right about that. They were games, there would be no directly asking what drink he'd ordered me, the game was one of nerve. To drink it, potentially showing blind trust where it hadn't been yet earned? Or to leave it, in a potential display of disrespect? This game in particular was complicated further by the fact that I don't drink. There was no self-righteous sense of superiority about my decision, I simply didn't enjoy most alcoholic drinks.

Continuing to hold my glass without taking a sip, I gazed at the man before me. There was a handsomeness about him, of course. His elegant, almost feminine features seemed to juxtapose the darkness I felt from him. Beauty and the beast, all wrapped up into a single entity,

Kind of like myself, I supposed.

My eyes flickered from the Sith to his pocket as he produced a small button-sized object. His details. With a slender hand, I reached out and collected it, slipping it into my pocket with barely a glance,

"Thank you, my friend." I replied. "I'll be sure to look you up, should the... need... arise."

There it was. An amicable meeting, a business transaction, a shared drink between pleasant company. Around us, no one would have likely ever seen the predators respectively within us, posturing, circling, each sizing up the other. For now? Allies, permitted to tread the other's territory for a time. In the future... only the force itself would know.

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"I have a bad feeling about this.." Kara grumbled for the dozenth time. She had been complaining about the details of this meet since they entered Coruscant's atmosphere. Pylon had grown tired of hearing the same, repetitive phrase, but mostly kept his mouth shut. He couldn't really blame her, he supposed. To Kara, being born and raised as a Mando, she had always been taught by Deccan that Jedi were more or less the enemy. To her, entering Coruscant was always like going behind enemy lines, no matter how many times they frequented the busy city planet.

"You know, ner darasuum, you missed your calling. You should have been a Jedi with that level of foresight." He teased dryly, knowing the very idea of her abandoning her Beskar'gam for the drab, boring, conservative robes would be enough to get a scowl out of her.

As they made their way down the dark, seedy sidewalk, helmets donned, full weapon loadouts equipped, the gazing eyes and gawking jaws seemed to be a thing of the past. When normally seeing two Mandalorians in full battle armor and armed to the teeth would cause a silent scream to echo through the streets. Yet, aside from the few petty level bounty-heads who knew better then to cross the path of the Galaxies greatest bounty hunters, no one seemed to pay the duo any mind.

That was one of the beauties of Coruscant that he actually missed-- the anonymity of being just another face in an ocean of unique species. Here, on the planet of city lights, two bounty hunters were just that--two bounty hunters out of thousands. He supposed that down here, in the lower levels of the city, where the scum and filth of the galaxy trickled down like rain water into the gutters, even the hardened, notorious reputation of the Mandalorians were nothing but blip on the radar of dangers.

Which was probably exactly why their target chose this as her base of operations.

While Ahtemis didn't have a blood-soaked reputation that extended to the outer reaches of the Galaxy yet, Pylon was more then a little familiar with the female crime boss; who's unpredictable tendencies and level of clever, conniving business tactics were matched only by the tales of her dangerous beauty. They had heard first hand accounts from other bounty hunters or criminals who had worked for her in the past about both Ahtemis' overwhelming beauty and infinite resources making her the most dangerous woman on Coruscant.

Kara would probably have something to say about that, he mused.

They had been contacted through their usual black-forum channels, the only real way to hire a bounty hunter if you wanted to remain anonymous. The message said little to nothing about the target, leaving the Mandalorian couple to do their own research on the Crime Lord. All it had was promise for a ridiculous amount of credits, a time and a place-- The newest, most infamous nightclub on Coruscant, the Blackstone.

After that, it was just a matter of finding a registry of the employees, slicing into their bank accounts, and selecting one to offer an exuberant amount of credits to let Pylon and Kara in through the front door. The lucky individual they landed on, was a young woman named Quinn Glasow.

"This could be a trap. We haven't exactly made a lot of friends in the Galaxy, and we know that Quinn isn't the most straight forward of waitresses. What if she's only pretending to turn in Ahtemis, and we're really walking face first into an E-Web or something?!" She continued to protest from inside their helmet's comlinks, completely silent on the outside.

Pylon simply pursed his lips to one side of his face, clearly growing tired of his wife's stale protests. He simply waived his hand dismissively, shaking his head softly. "Ahtemis could be a psychopath, but she's a businesswoman first and foremost. If this waitress bothered to get a hold of us and drag us all the way to Coruscant, it's because we can be useful to her. Say what you want about Quinn, but she thinks long term. Besides, if Ahtemis wanted to--or even could-- kill us, she wouldn't have us in her own club. Two ticked off bounty hunters cutting and shooting up her establishment is bad for business. She's supposed to be busy with some meeting, and has no idea we're coming" He explained calmly. Kara opened her mouth as if to argue his point, before catching herself, apparently agreeing with his logic.

As the flashing neon lights of the Blackstone's entrance came into view, Pylon's cybernetic eye began scanning for threats, instantly locking on the large Nagai bouncer standing guard at the door. No sooner did he notice the burly pale humanoid did the Bouncer take note of the approaching bounty hunters, eyeing their respective sword and sniper rifle cautiously.

Pylon tilted his head down, aiming the cross of his T-shaped visor directly at the ground in front of him. He could already feel the Nagai tensing his muscles, puffing his chest out in an ineffective display of masculinity in attempt to make his colossal body dwarf Pylon's small, short frame even more. It wouldn't do him much good, but still, intimidating to the average man.

As Pylon marched towards the threshold of the club, he collided against the doorman's suddenly outstretched arm, ramming into his chest. The second the man's colorless, muscled arm touched the Mandalorian's gleaming,stainless ultrachrome armor, Pylon's head snapped up, his visor meeting the bouncer's eyes with a stare that even through his helmet sent a chill running up his spine. Kara had already started reaching for one of the twin Verpine Scatter pistols on either side of her breasts, ready to unload an entire clip of shrapnel and pellets in the goon's face.

Despite her obvious movements, the Negai never took his eyes off Pylon, doing his best to remain stoic and unthreatened by the young Mandalorian.

"Can't let you take weapons inside. Give 'em over, bounty hunter." He grunted, nodding his head to their back straps. Pylon cocked his head to the side, as if trying to analyze if the man was truly serious. He turned his neck slightly to examine Kara in his peripheral vision, who returned the stare with her own, soft shake of her head. Returning his attention back to the guard, Pylon chuckled a bit before raising his chin at him.

"Not on your life....And if you put a hand on me again, you're not gonna get it back. Ne shab'rud'ni...." He hissed softly. The Negai growled in response, straightening himself up to tower over Pylon. The brute motioned for two other guards to back him up, both bigger than the last.

Just as the conflict was rising to a head, all five combatants stood down at the sound of a voice screeching over the music. "The boss has sent me to retrieve them. Let them through," said a woman, muscling her way past the three guards. She wore a tight, black cocktail dress, constricting her body past the point of comfort to accentuate her figure. Pylon wondered how she was even able to breathe in such a restricting outfit.

The guards grunted in apparent disappointment, letting the woman through to the bounty hunters. Kara gave her a quick glance up and down before shrugging slightly and walking up to stand next to her husband's side. The woman gave them both a small nod of acknowledgment before introducing herself,

"My name's Quinn and if you don't mind I'll be the one taking you to The Donna. Follow me and please try not to get into anymore trouble between now and the lift."

Pylon and Kara exchanged another silent look from inside their helmets, both of them grinning ear to ear. Kara was the first to speak up, walking forward past the guards before turning around to Quinn. "We'll try. No promises though. We have a bad habit of killing over sized, overconfident doormen." She smirked, allowing their hostess to lead the way.

As she walked towards the lift to the upper floors, both Pylon and Kara stared hypnotically at the woman's rear, clearly equally interested in the effects of tight leather.

"I should get a dress like that. Show off my shebs." She mused as they walked into the elevator, both of them leaning their backs against the transprasteel box. Their conversation was kept private inside their helmets, allowing them to speak freely while Quinn was kept none the wiser.
Pylon simply shrugged in response before quipping in with "You would rather buy a new, overpriced exotic weapon. When would you ever use a dress like that?"
"Every night, if you're lucky. Every girl should have at least one sexy dress. What, you wouldn't like me in it?"
"I didn't say that. I just don't understand the practicality of a dress like that. It looks too restricting--too uncomfortable." He dismissed quickly, paying little attention to Quinn now.
"It's not supposed to be comfortable, it's supposed to look good. It's not for fighting, it's for fun, di'kut!" she sneered, walking over to him now, hooking a finger on the inside of his belt, tugging at his kama. He smiled, leaning his helmet down to touch hers, making an audible click as their armors crashed together. A traditional, Mandalorian kiss. It was the easiest way to show affection in armor, even if it did resemble a headbutt to outsiders.

"Who says you can't have fun while fighting? We usually do.." he grinned, their conversation interrupted by the soft pinging of the elevator's doors cracking open. As Quinn lead them out, Kara followed with Pylon trailing behind. As she walked in front of him, he stared down at her, watching her walk with the same interest as he had with Quinn. "Besides," he purred, letting Kara know exactly where he was looking, "I like your shebs in armor."

As they walked towards the private upper balcony of the club, Pylon quickly activated its macro-binocular system in his visor with two quick blinks. His vision zoomed in across the space that separated them from a black clad, dark haired woman and a mysterious dark cloaked man sitting at a table. Even from here, Pylon could feel the taint of the Dark Side on the man...Likely a Sith, he reckoned.

The woman was almost assuredly their target, judging by the seclusion, and the growing fear on their escort's face. Pylon and Kara exchanged silent looks in their helmets, before finally speaking aloud to Quinn. "You should go ahead and get out of here, honey. We're about to go introduce ourselves, in a very unfriendly way." Kara told her, placing a gentle, armored hand on the woman's shoulder before guiding her back to the elevator.

Once removed, Pylon leaned against a wall, hidden in shadow looking around his environment to formulate a plan. The upper balcony created a semi circle overlooking the dance floor, some 10 to 15 meters across. However the pair of bounty hunters planned on getting close enough to the Donna, they would have to walk right up to her and hope she, or her Dark Side companion, didn't notice. Not their best option.

Kara nudged her husband in his rib to break his concentration. "What are you thinking? Go up to her and ask her to dance?" She teased, trying to see what he was thinking.

Pylon grinned widely in his helmet before taking a small, cylindrical canister off of his belt, rolling it back and forth in his palm. Kara looked up quickly at him, before tilting her head inquisitively. "In here? At close range?" She protested, clearly realizing what he intended to do.

He simply shrugged before pulling the small ringed pin at the top of the canister, holding down the spoon along the side. "It's one hell of a way to break the ice, don't you think?" He mused curtly as he pushed past her, holding his hands behind his back as he calmly and slowly towards the back table.

While he certainly stood out with his silver, mirrored plates reflecting multicolored lights, and large, hard metal sheath strapped to his back by a long strip of leather across his chest, and lined with half a dozen knives, he hoped his ability to suppress his Force signature and general presence would give him the element of surprise.

Once close enough to surely be seen by Ahtemis, Pylon brought his free hand across his body, giving her a cordial, proper bow. "Lady Ahtemis, I presume? May I have this dance?" He spoke audibly, the voice modulator in his helmet amplifying his words loud enough to be heard over the pumping club music. Before either her or her companion could reply though, Pylon brought his other hand forward, revealing what he held clutched in his hand -- a flashbang grenade.

With a gentle toss onto the table between the pair, Pylon quickly blinked four times, shutting off his helmet's Heads Up Display, dropping the blast shield over the T-shaped visor in preparation for the blinding flash of light and deafening 'pop' of the explosion.

Pylon was right.

Being able to stand unphased by a point blank flashbang explosion did have the ability to make quite a lasting impression.
 
I’m sure it will.”, Maliphant said with a quiet regard for her, readjusting in his suit as he leaned back, all before the storm would come.

Maliphant always kept a strong assurance of his surroundings, now watching as the mandalorians approached and ‘asked for a dance’, which might have been believable if the primary of the two wasn’t loaded from head to toe in arms and armor; even if it stood as Mandalorian formal wear, they were too far away from Mandalorian held space to not stick out. No, they came here for a purpose, the weapons were enough to cement that, but before Maliphant could speak, the flashbang was thrown between them.

The reactions of a force user surpassed that of a conventional mortal by many times, and Maliphant was no mere mortal. In the half second it took for the flashbang to explode, he had already prepared himself; though not in a ‘defensive means’, as the explosion ripped through his sight and hearing with little issue. No, instead he moved his focus to The Force, ignoring the pain as only a Sith could do, and letting the presence of the area form his sight. The force signature of the primary user was nearly invisible, which stood as a testament to either a force dead nature, or someone with some formal training.

It wouldn’t matter.

As soon as the explosion had taken place, Maliphant already moved from his seat with the speed of Hermes. Just as the flash subsided, likely when the blast plates of the helmets came back up, Maliphant already stood between the group, his eyes closed as he looked around in his formal suit, now slightly singed from the close range flashbang. In his free hand, the invisible lightsaber he carried with him at all times.

As it ignited, The Force in the area began to form a whirlpool, spinning and cycling the small balcony area as the distant crowds continued their party, barely aware of what was happening. All of the latent energy, all that one could produce, surged towards the lightsaber hilt, fueling the pressure of a man who quickly began to express what power he held, that of a Sith. His voice came quietly, something he couldn’t hear himself due to the explosion;

Is this truly the fate you wish for?”, he said before the lightsaber with no blade flourished through the air, his still closed expression looking fruitlessly at the wall far from them. He couldn’t see physically, but The Force guided sight like no other.

[member="Ahtemis"] │ [member="Pylon Zerga"]
 

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
Here's the thing about wolves: They are not surprised very often.

I had actually been grateful during this meeting that I couldn't hear out of my left side. It meant that I could focus wholly on the words of the Darth sitting across from me, the thumping of the club music around us no more than a distant blur on my left side. It was all but natural for me now to tilt my right side ever so slightly towards whomever was speaking, so I'd been taking special care not to outwardly appear to be doing that.

That was perhaps the only reason my otherwise well-attuned lupine senses didn't pick up on the commotion near the door.

However, I did feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as the intruders approached. Because I couldn't see them at first, I hadn't been sure why I had suddenly felt unsettled. In fact, I had more or less assumed it was my guest, the Sith, and that piercing gaze of his. However, when the man stood before us, donned completely in gleaming silver armour, I knew he was bad news. Bad feelings aside; this was a club, a club where weapons were checked at the door. If you were wearing armour in here, it was because you wanted to make a statement.

Before he'd even spoke I was rising out my chair, tense, preparing to call over the staff.

He offered to dance, I flashed him a glance.

Then he dropped the flashbang onto the table.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

The flashbang rolled onto the table, giving me just enough time to squeeze my eyes shut and turn my left side towards it. The 'bang' in a flashbang isn't so effective when you can' hear on that side at all. Moving my right hand up to the working ear now turned away from the grenade, I leapt away to my right just as it went off. That piercing ring still shot through my brain the moment it detonated, however, I was not left blinded and fumbling as I might have been.

Escape

That was the only thought in my mind. I'd not carried a weapon of my own into the club, nor did I have my staff with me. The moment the white-hot flash of the grenade subsided, I vanished. There is an ability among my kind, able to hide ourselves from almost every sense--with perhaps the notable exception of scent. Luckily for me, however, the only scent currently hanging in the air was spent gunpowder.

Hidden from sight, sound, heat, and the force, I focused solely on making my way out of the club. I had to concentrate to maintain this stealth, thankfully I was able to do so solely because of those few seconds of warning as this mysterious set of gleaming Mandalorian armour had kindly given us.

I knew all of my own establishments inside and out, one of the reasons I preferred to conduct business there rather than turf with which I was unfamiliar. Using this advantage, I ducked silently through the panicking crowd, making my way towards anywhere else.

What a night.
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[member="Darth Maliphant"] | [member="Pylon Zerga"]​
 
There were a few things in the Galaxy that a bounty hunter could always count on; someone will always try to 'renegotiate' a deal and try to cheap you out of your rightly earned credits, on every planet there's someone who will think you're a scoundrel for just doing your job, and finally, a mark will almost always run when confronted with a terrifying Mandalorian in full armor.

As such, it didn't surprise the experienced hunter in the least when his target flew from her chair at the sight of the flashbang being tossed onto her table, making a break for one of the staircases to the back of the club. What did catch Pylon off guard, however, was Ahtemis' unique and unexpected ability to disappear from visual range, and even more strangely, the Force! Such abilities only came with years of training and experience in the Force, much like his own previous training as a Jedi Shadow. The act of repressing his Force signature, which he did almost constantly since abandoning the Order, came with great effort, and no lack of effort on his part, to be as effective as possible. Even then, it wasn't always a guarantee he could completely escape detection.

This was likely what caused the Donna's Sith associate to be tipped off enough by his own connection to the Dark Side, springing up quickly from his chair and turn to face Pylon, drawing an unseen weapon from his side. The sudden surge in quiet, contemplated anger filled the air as the dark clad male allowed an all too familiar wave of pain and fury wash over him, surrendering himself to the Dark Side. The air around them grew heavy and seemed to gravitate toward's the man's hand, until the unsettling and draining aura of this man's invisible weapon was enough to cause Pylon to feel certifiably unwell.

With Ahtemis disappearing from every one of Pylon's senses and technological radars, and the Sith's Dark Side Drain technique lowering his abilities, there was no way he could catch the fleeing Crime Lord. Whoever this Sith associate was, it was clear he was going to stand between Pylon and his quarry. A snap decision had to be made, he realized, or else Ahtemis would slip away.

"Kara! Trace her!" He barked over the comlink built into his helmet. A soft chuckle and the quick, unmistakable mechanical cocking sound of a Verpine Shatter Rifle could be heard in response.

"Way ahead of you."

The muffled, quiet pop of the slugthrower filled the club, as a specially designed tracer round was fired through the air by electromagnetism. Faster than anyone could feasibly react, the projectile traveled towards the general area of the combatants, before detonating mid flight, releasing a large cloud of specially designed radioactive tracing dust. Often used by secret operatives for following highly elusive targets in highly populated areas, the bounty hunter couple had found their use invaluable for tracking bounties across planets. One properly direct shot within four meters of the target, and the spreading field of the pollen like tracking material would allow Pylon and Kara to track anyone within the initial field of impact.

Pylon reached up to the handle of his blade strapped to his back, quickly drawing it with one signle motion, slicing through the air with readied intent. He tilted his head slightly to one side, before lifting his chin only slightly, as if coaxing the Sith to come at him.

"Let me give you my answer." He smirked, allwoing his voice to be heard through his helmet by switching channels with a quick click of his teeth. "This is the only path available, Sith, and it runs right through you. Now get out of my way..."
 
As Pylon readied his blade, Maliphant harnessed a portion of the energy he had stolen from the area to heal what damage had occurred to his eyes, restoring his vision in the fraction of a second. It wouldn’t last, he’d very likely require a more permanent doctor visit to ensure they didn’t hold long term damage, but for the sake of convenience it never hurt to have one’s sight. His gaze slowly moved to settle on the Mandalorian, a cock of his brow offered as though he were disappointed.

For some reason, I thought you’d be more intimidating if I saw you.”, he said before smiling.

A shame we’ll both be disappointed tonight.

With that, Maliphant lurched one hand outwards to the other being, Kara as her name were, as Force Stasis moved to engulf, hold, and restrict her for the moment. Maliphant had originally thought that the two were here to collect on some unknown bounty for himself, but as the radioactive pellet had exploded in the hopes of tracing the Donna, he knew at the very least they weren't’t here for him. All he had to do was restrict the two before the Crime Lord could be free, knowing full and well it’d do well to drive her into his pocket just that much more.

A favor for a favor.

To stop Pylon from undoing what he had wrought, the lightsaber flung out in its invisible nature with the speed of a blademaster. Niman, as it were, a balanced an equal form that in Maliphant’s practiced hand seemed to form a song with the hum of the blade, amplified to the speed that it seemed to resemble Juyo, though with certain aggression differences. His blade work was exceptional, the result of the likes of Sidious and Revan teaching him the greatest skills known to Sith and Jedi alike, and the blade that followed carried a severe intent for death.

Amplified by the force drained from all those surrounding them, and the fear of those lower in the nightclub now fleeing from the explosions, Maliphant surged forward once more faster than the human eye could comprehend, offering two strikes. The first was an unnatural strong strike for the head, stronger than it was fast but blinding nonetheless, while with it he spun around to strike towards the Madalorian’s weaker leg joint, opposite of the shoulder strike.

It was a simple maneuver, one designed to create pressure where none might have existed, and was not the final extent of the move; however, a practiced blademan’s knew that the follow up was entirely based on what Pylon chose to do next. His fate was now in his hands.


[member="Pylon Zerga"] │ [member="Ahtemis"]
 

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
There was chaos everywhere.

I kept my head down, ducking and weaving through the crowd making myself as small as possible. Of course, being completely undetectable could be a boon, and indeed was probably saving my life right now, but at the same time, no one knew I was here... so the panicked crowd didn't even try to surge around me. It was completely up to me to duck and weave through the patrons, keeping myself as low as possible. Thankfully, the chaos of hundreds of people all simultaneously freaking out meant that if anyone did bump into me, it would be impossible to tell.

Another advantage was that when the slug went off with a pop, I was ducked beneath the majority of the crowd.

Whatever the vapour was that settled over everyone, it was pungent. Of course, I couldn't have escaped it completely, but there were easily over a hundred people that had been coated with the stuff; all of them currently fleeing the nightclub in terror. Many of them were far more heavily coated than I had been, given my lowered position to navigate through the crowd.

My destination had been the stairs, along with many of the other patrons. I assumed that we had all had the same thought: scary Mandalorian lady by the lifts, take the stairs instead. Whatever we'd been doused with, it had to be some sort of marking or tracking element of some sort, considering it did not apparently matter whom it hit. Either that or it was a poison of some kind, and this was just... massive collateral damage. I could only hope it wasn't the latter.

I threw a glance back towards where I'd come from, where no doubt Darth Maliphant and this Mandalorian were now engaged in some sort of confrontation. However, it was useless to try and see through the throng of people. Instead, I turned back around and focused on slipping out of the club along with everyone else. Although I now had a timer on my head, these would-be captors had unintentionally given me a head-start: while I was coated with this stuff, so was almost everyone else, and it would take time to track down all those signals.

All I had to do was find out what this stuff was and get it off me before my signal was traced.


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[member="Darth Maliphant"] | [member="Pylon Zerga"]​
 

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