Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Midnight City

Madison Starr

Guest
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It's raining again.

This city never sleeps.

He's standing on the front steps of the hotel's giant driveway. It's almost quiet tonight. The rain comes pouring over the covered driveway and spills onto the black cement outside. Warm rivers of water filter out across the black slippery street. Spilling down into giant storm drains and running out into the bay beyond. It's all one quiet motion of endless water. A reflection with a thousand neon lights within. A river of life that covers the entire city and bathes it all in a cascade of shimmering sound. Drowning the whole city. One thousand tiny water drops at a time.

Still. It's warm today.

Mostly.

Air pollution is up again and winter is just around the corner. They're running the weather system more and more every year. Pushing the system harder and harder everyday. Today, it's raining. Tomorrow, it will probably be raining again too. Clears the air they say. Wash it all down with shimmering fog. Wash it all away. Like it was never there to begin with at all. Pollution and rain. All forgotten by tomorrow.

Hmm.

He's lost in thought today.

He's standing on the front steps of the grand hotel. Looking out over the rolling waves of the evening bay and smoking a V-cigerette. Watching all the new starships make their landing approach over on the other side of the water. Their blue engines reflecting in it's gently rolling surface. Reflected in the warm evening fog. Some. Most. Just reflecting.

He's reflecting.

It's been a rough week. And he's not quite sure he likes where this newest job is taking him. Taking all of them.

"Mads." A thin woman in a long coat beckons from the doorway. She wants him to come inside. It's raining outside and he's out in the open.

"Yeah. I know. I'll be inside in a sec." He doesn't want to go. He just wants to stop and listen to the city some more. Listen to the rain. Wash it all away. Like long rolling rivers down the street. Reflecting his chaotic mind with all the colors in this bright neon world.

"Mads." She wants him to come inside. For real this time. She gets nervous when he's alone.

"Yeah. ...Coming. Coming." He takes on long, big breath. Exhales the smoke. Then throws away his dark cigarette and pulls up his trench coat's collar. Turning around, to finally go back inside. Where it's cold. And dark. And the bloody bloody work of tonight still awaits them both. Forever.

As the golden hotel doors close shut again behind them and the man and the woman disappear into decadent luxury. It's still raining neon signs out here again.

Because this city never sleeps.

And neither can Mads Nadine.

. . . . .


08:00 PM - Midnight City West - The Forrester Hotel

It's a grand hotel skyscraper jutting out from the edge of the bay. Along the water's edge. A paradise of straight lines. White and red gardens. White and red lights. Beautiful white and red pictures too. And high perma-crete walls along the entire border. Like a fortress, Made just for vacation. Almost impenetrable.

Luckily for you however. The gate scanner recognizes the car. So the front gate of the hotel slides open like a massive black iron water-lock. A jagged iron wall. Thicker than a star ship's hull and just as intimidating up close. Big enough to stop a dozen walkers. Or more. ...Still? It's impressive. If a bit foreboding. Your car slips in unnoticed. Gliding on shimmering wet roads. Sliding up to the front steps of the hotel's rather empty drive.

They. They've asked you come by the hotel for the team meeting around five o'clock that very afternoon. But then they quickly cancelled and rescheduled the meeting to eight. Typical government types. The message had that kind of formality to it. It just smelled automated. Lifeless. Maybe half-dead already. Indeed, a perfect introduction into how government works on Denon.

It doesn't. The Corporations do.

Luckily, Mads Nadine messaged you privately just a moment later. He said to show up around eight. Sure. And to make sure you were late too. Ha. Just to keep em' waiting.

He's the Spymaster. He's your guy. So he's probably alright. If a bit cowboy.

Probably.

Anyway. Your car pulls up to the grand hotel. It's massive spire overlooking the bay. The car port is covered from the rain but a warm fog still remains. Wet roads and wet edges. Wet concrete and wet driveway. Winter is fast approaching this city and there is something faintly unpleasant about getting even a little wet tonight. At least, before the meeting anyway.

A blue-skinned bell man approaches. He's the only one around. He offers to take your bags. (*If you even have any.) Then waves you on inside.

The air smells warm and pleasant here. The white and red lights look warm and inviting. The sounds of the city are naught but a faint echo at this dark hour. So very far, far away from all the cares in the world. Just the sound of splattering rain to remind you.

"Welcome to the Forrester Hotel. The pride of Midnight City. Please, approach the counter and register your E-ticket here at the desk. And again. ...Welcome. We're so happy to have you with us tonight."

She's a beautiful dark haired woman with a sickly sweet, beautiful voice. Human too. Decorated and adorned in a glossy uniform of style and fashion. Her earrings are killer too. Just saying.

The lobby is giant, but empty. Polished black floors. Polished black ceiling. Long sweeping artistic walls with repeating patterns and hidden imagery. Soft lights and a warm evening temperature. It feels inviting. If a bit too meticulous. A bit too, too-black. If that's even a word.

The empty too-black lobby passes away as you approach the desk. You sign in electronically. She smiles. The woman behind the polished stone counter. She nods as your reservation turns green. Approved. And she motions you into the hotel. A massive space greets you. The entrance to the Forrester is nothing if not, gigantic. You can step forward two paces and look straight up. See all the way up to the top of the building. A glass ceiling at the top of the world. Pulsating. Welcoming you inside. Even if you can't really see all the way up there. Disappearing almost into the clouds.

The entrance is much like the lobby. A giant sitting forum. Covered in small gardens, small holos, and long black sitting leather couches. You imagine a whole cities' worth of visitors could vacation here. Once upon a time. Or even just tomorrow. Four elevators greet your senses. A pair on each side. With a long red neon railing that leads up into the lounge. The Red Feather. A wealthy man's retreat on long tired friday nights. A lounge where all the long tinted windows look out over the white and red gardens below. Splattering everything they see tonight with a touch of warm evening rain.

Mads is waiting for you in the lounge. Him. And probably his entire team. But... You remember he told you to be late. On purpose. So maybe you'll visit your room first and take in the sight's of Midnight City from the patio instead. Your room is in the sky after all. Thirtieth floor. Just like everyone else's. All the other Jedi who've responded to the summons. One big happy family.

Anyway. You've lingered in the entrance plaza long enough for one story. The lounge or the elevator awaits you. You're choice. Maybe Mads isn't even here yet? A fashionable idea perhaps? After all. You can't sense anyone sitting and drinking in there anyway. It's empty. And the bar is empty too. So maybe you've still got some time to kill.

To kill.

Yeah. Bad choice of words. Sorry.

The hotel doesn't mind though. Polished black tile and polished black stone. The Forrester is carelessly empty but for a few wandering guests this evening. Nothing seems out of place. It's fine. The warm white and red lights are decorative and the green plants are well watered and still lush. It doesn't feel like winter in here. Just a bit cold. And stoically meticulous. And maybe just a bit, too-black, too.

Your move.

To a new beginning.

. . . . .


OOC:
You've arrived to a grand hotel during the last gasp of warm evening light. It's breathtaking. Just like the city itself. You've been on-world for a half a day already. Killing time as your meeting appointment kept getting pushed back and back, and back. Typical bureaucracy stuff. Finally, Mads and his team from the government have agreed to meet. With everybody.​
The Forrester is the most expensive and exclusive hotel in Midnight City. It's a walled-off fortress filled with sharp lines, expensive gardens, and very best of everything. If, by everything I mean black and black, and more black too. Sure, fine. Whatever. But at least it's clean and secure and used by government, and corporate officials quite often. So it seems a fine place to have a meeting. Or grab a bottle of wine and hit the disco later. Whatever. Your call.​
You've already been sent the very briefest of briefs electronically when you replied to the case. Dead Jedi Knight. Missing Padawan. Cartel involvement suspected. Government officials and law enforcement are on the fence for now. Walled off by red tape and the arrival of 'bigger' players. Mostly you. Mads Nadine is Spymaster on this one. He's your guy and even better! He's used to dealing with Jedi. (And planet-wide shadowy murders and cover-ups too, but whatever.) It's fine. At least it's not the local cops or, gasp, the media. So I suppose we'll take "shadowy dude from shadowy mercenary company who scares the local government" over the alternative. (...Or those guys in DarkWire but whatever. They'll probably hack this message anyway. Pfft.)​
Also. Xeno Xeno will be joining us later in the thread at a more 'opportune' moment. So we'll need not wait for him to reply until we're deeper in. Thanks!​
Also. Bonus points for describing what your character did all day waiting for the appointment.​
Also. Even more bonus points for keeping it broody and rainy, and smoky-neon-cyberpunk'ish. 'ish. Lol.​
Oh, and if the lady at the desk didn't already say it. Welcome to Midnight City. We're gonna have a blast. XOXO <3 - Jay​
 
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It was just another planet in a long line of assignments. It wasn't the rain, or the faint burnt aroma of carbon in the air that made Brandyn wish he wasn't here. No, it was a feeling until now unknown to the young Padawan. It was a feeling of homesickness. He had not felt it when he ran away from home to join the Jedi Order. No, he felt sweet relief then. He didn't feel it when undercover for months end. No, that was just the thrill of permissible untruths. The first time he had truly felt this feeling was upon saying farewell to her. It was a new feeling to feel as though a part of him was left behind.

Incomplete. Distracted.

Distracted was a problem in this game, especially throughout his day. He had sought to make contacts in Denon to aide in his investigation with The New Way. The crowd he sought out were familiar to him now. Slicers. Cyborgs. And just one too many junkies for Brandyn's liking. Their world was digital, tracing paths through the holonet and living in squalor just off the paths of those not in their lifestyle. Theirs was a different language to Brandyn's, but over a process of trial and error he had begun to pick up enough of the terminology to not seem like a complete amateur. Still, he was nowhere near the point of jamming a AJ^6 into his skull to fit in.

Frixnar Volkat, a typically pink-skinned and green-haired Theelin, had agreed to discuss Brandyn's needs. The man had seemingly ripped half his body to pieces in order to add as many mods as possible. Brandyn wondered when someone would begin to be classified as a droid. The Padawan had had to hide his disgust. The work Frixnar had had done was clearly not the work of a reputable surgeon. It seemed more a hack job. The Theelin had clearly battled infections around the implants, such was the extent of the scarring beyond just the initial entry point of the cybernetics.

The discussion had been typically filled with holonet dwellers lingo. Brandyn had struggled to keep up, but his ability to fake it well enough seemed to win Frixnar over - even if it was just out of curiosity. The sickly smile, and hazed eyes, of Frixnar as he jacked his mind into the holonet gave Brandyn the chills. He wondered for a time if it was equivalent to touching the Force. It seemed to be something that gave Frixnar a junkies thrill, however it felt in reality.

Sitting in the take-away container filled hole in the wall, while Frixnar delved for Brandyn's answers, produced an odd sensation of small bugs crawling up the Jedi's legs. He looked at one point, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, but the unshakeable feeling of something crawling over him persisted.

The thirty minutes he had sat there felt like hours. When the cyborg finally blinked a few times, as he came out of the Net, Brandyn leaned forward. He had prompted the Theelin for answers, and the concern writ over the cyborgs face was all to real.

The Jedi had jumped up in shock as Frixnar proceeded to douse his set up with every cannister of accelerant that he had scarily stored nearby. The Theelin screamed of security, walls in his way, watchers that had followed him out of the target mainframe, spyware, a feeling of someone perhaps even implanting within the cyborgs own processors. Whatever he had attempted to access, had left the Theelin running for his life.

From outside the small room, Brandyn could only stand and watch as the flames engulfed the computing set up of the quickly departed Frixnar. For a time he felt fixated on the flame. A flame representative of the knowledge he carried with him, of the destruction it would wreck on his family, and a flame that represented the fear that this silhouette of a individual, Bartholomew, could bring on people.

Distracted.

From out his hotel room window, Brandyn watched the unsleeping city. It's inhabitants scurried about like roaches in Frixnar's apartment. Despite how much it rained here, there was still a natural desire to reduce the amount of time being rained upon. He could see feet walking down footpaths, the rest of the individual obscured by overhanging shelters from the buildings that lined the streets, and just every now and again someone would spot a gap in the traffic and shoot across to the other side.

They seemed small. Insignificant. Damned for daring to make their abode on such a world.

The Jedi felt a welling distaste for his chosen path. What once had thrilled and excited, now felt like a bitter departure from a happiness that could, no should, be his.

Being away left more time for him to dwell on his own thoughts. The oppressive weight of knowledge on his psyche was unalleviated by the touch of the girl he had left behind. Glancing up into the light-polluted, overcast skies, Brandyn wondered just how long he could do this before he broke completely. Was it worth finding out? No. Was it time to quit? He was no quitter.

Whatever Mads Nadine had for him, it had better be good. This world, and its existence destitute of colour, was death to a young man's soul.

 

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