Public Guns and Ships

[Cyprus Ca'stella]

To anyone who didn’t know him, the dark circles under Cyprus eyes would almost seem comically large. This had to be what? The third factory strike this year he’d inherited from his father? Their profit margins were hurting, bad.

With the patriarch of house Ca’stella off-world, that left Cyprus to field the complaints, and more chiefly, death threats. Trading in weapons came with the unfortunate side effect of working with some pretty unethically unsound people. There were wars to be won after all, and the Ca’stella’s buyers were not patient people.

Slumping his forehead against clasped hands, Cyprus rapidly blinked the spots from his vision. As if that would give any more clarity to the reports lining his father’s desk.

 

[Myvette Faeli]

Breathe...just...breathe. You're fine. I'm fine.

The Miraluka reached into her satchel almost reflexively and pulled out a long bar of blue chocolate. She peeled back the foil and snapped off a huge piece of it with her teeth, sweetness flooded her senses and calmed her nerves immediately. A snack surely wouldn't help her for the trials ahead but a clear mind made for better judgment. There were few situations outside of live combat more volatile than an active factory strike for an enterprise with as murky a history as the Ca'Stella, so discernment wasn't something she could afford to skip out on.

But that's how it is right? You need a special breed of passionless avarice to endure in this type of career. I kind of respect it despite my distaste.

Reaching what seemed to be a lobby or waiting room, Myvette instantly noted how well-furnished and neatly arranged everything was. Color was widely lost on her force-gifted vision but pageantry had nothing to do with her goals here. A factory strike and if corporate history had even an iota of knowledge to depart it's that businesses don't like losing their workers, especially in a line of work so inherently shady. Things can go sour fast, but that alone wouldn't call for the presence of a Jedi.

No, from what she was told and judging by her research there was possibly something more sinister in the works than low wages.

In the center of the room was a wide circular desk with whom the Padawan assumed to be some sort of receptionist in its center. She had a stack of papers on either side almost as tall as her, maybe she had her hands full with this strike as well who knows. The girl approached the desk and tapped on it three times with her finger, getting the woman's attention.

"May I help you?" The woman's voice had an irritated edge and a raspy delivery. She was tired and it was making her snappish. Not good. Tired people make harsh decisions.

Opposed to vocalizing her identity, Myvette reached for her belt and unclipped her Lightsaber before sliding its hilt onto the tabletop. There was no mistaking who she was, a Jedi dispatched in response to growing unrest within their factories. Regardless of how mundane it seemed, the council was adamant about sending one of their own, Myvette. Why that was none of them were entirely sure but at the very least, the Padawan had a hypothesis.

Not a very good one but she had to start somewhere.

Cyprus Ca'stella​

 

[EZEKIEL DRAKE]

-

The Red Ronin

Drake rarely used the front entrance. There was something odd about the normalcy of the meeting for this particular job that perturbed him. That and the job itself. A factory strike was far more mundane than most missions. Sure, there seemed to be the pressing issue of death threats, but what kind of conglomerate does not receive those on the daily?

Not a weapons manufacturer, that much is certain. Maybe a flower shop would be a safer occupation to consider if these higher-ups were afraid of a strike and these threats. A weapons manufacturer afraid of someone bring up arms against them? It was almost poetic in its irony.

The door sliding open to the main office space as Drake nodded towards the security staff. No weapons were allowed beyond this point. Most of his gear had to be left behind with the security station. Associating himself with the Bounty Hunters' Guild only opened so many doors for him, securing the actual job itself would be up to him. His eyes widened only a little in mind surprise as he noticed the force user in front of him. A Padawan if the braid was anything to go by. Walking behind the robed young girl and stepping around her to peer at the secretary, Drake raised an eyebrow at the suddenness of the Padawan settling her lightsaber down the table.

"Bold move . . . bold move," a small sly smile hinted itself at the edge of his lips as Drake nodded his head, "And I thought they would have confiscated that."

Resting one bent arm on the counter and leaning casually, Drake tilted his head and smirked at the secretary. His silver eyes peered into the woman's.

"We're here on important Jedi business with your boss, and you're obviously having a rough day. Let's save everyone the headache and ring us up, okay?"

A single cheery wink followed.

"Thank you."

Cyprus Ca'stella Myvette Faeli ​

 

[Cyprus Ca'stella]

The woman was quick to drop any residual attitude the moment Myvette's lightsaber made contact with the desk. Instead, her mouth firmed into a line, trading glances between the Miraluka and her supposed counterpart as if to confirm what she was seeing. Slowly her hand moved to an earpiece, gaze still fixated on the two in front of her.

"Mr. Ca'stella." The woman started slowly and skeptically, "There are two Jedi who claim to be here on business. They aren't scheduled for a meeting as far as I'm aware. Shall I send them up?"

Cyprus stopped dead in his tracks, abandoning whatever line of legal jargon he was in the midst of reading. The use of his father's name had made him cringe internally, but that was nothing in comparison to the statement that followed.

Jedi?

His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he needed was some cultist sleuths poking their heads around. That was if these strangers were truly even Jedi to begin with. Either way Cyprus couldn't risk turning away such a powerful entity without doing his fair share of damage control. It was best to keep tabs on and assuage whatever suspicions the Ca'stella enterprise had managed to raise in the mind of the Order.

He waved dismissively as if the receptionist could see. "Yes, this was a last-minute development, you may send them up."

And if whoever he just invited up turned out to be mercenary playing dress up, all the better. He could use the break.

Myvette Faeli EZEKIEL DRAKE

 

[Myvette Faeli]

Myvette removed her Jedi weapon from the counter as a presence came up behind her and praised the girl for her boldness. It was a forceful and muddled aura that wasn't implicitly dark but certainly had a crimson tint. Myvette didn't respond to Ezekiel's comment as she clipped the saber to her waist and gave him a once over with her Force-gifted vision.

Just as she'd initially felt, his aura had been tainted by evil, like water with a splotch of ink dropped into the basin that slowly ebbed out and polluted its color. There was a unique curiosity to his spirit as well, as if his aura itself wanted to explore the world as it dug into tiny crevices and unseen faults in the building. Myvette had never seen something like this before and it made the student wonder if that quality could be harnessed into some sort of ability. That would have to wait though, Mr. Ca'stella had invited them upstairs and her mission, their mission could get underway.

The Padawan smiled at the secretary and gave a respectful bow before walking into the elevator and waiting for Ezekiel to climb on before she pressed the button. On the ride up her suspicions didn't go away but she tried not to make her feelings too obvious.

He doesn't look or feel like a Jedi yet he claims to be one. I should be careful but I can't make my caution known, he is a Force user after all so he could sense that.

Reaching into her satchel, the Padawan wordlessly retrieved a bar of blue chocolate wrapped in foil and broke off a piece before eating it. She then broke off a second piece and offered it to the Samurai just as the elevator doors parted and she stepped into Ca'stella's office. Her chocolate went away and she took a deep breath as she approached the young heir and gave him a respectful bow as well.

He's...younger than I thought he'd be. He can't be much older than me. He looks tired...poor thing. No. He's not poor, he's anything but. The ones that are probably poor are his workers, he doesn't need sympathy from me.

Cyprus Ca'stella \ EZEKIEL DRAKE​

 

[Isar]

"Mr. Ca'stella, there's another man here. He doesn't have an appointment either but he says he can offer you executive solutions for your father's um.... he called them problems."

A lean, tall man, strikingly fuschia, leaned against the counter and winked at the woman. "Thanks love."

Floral tattoos festooned his neck and he wore a loose, flowing black and gold shirt above black pants and scuffed combat boots. He wore his wine-dark hair slicked back, with a mustache and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

The scent of lavender pervaded the air.

"You should just let me up," he suggested.

It seemed like a good idea. A great one, even.

"I'm letting him up," the secretary said, her pupils somewhat dilated.

"Killer," Isar replied, smug as a cat as he boarded the elevator and punched the button.

Myvette Faeli Cyprus Ca'stella EZEKIEL DRAKE