Private Midnight Manifest

[DEVILMAN]

Naboo – Keren – Warehouse Rooftop
Objective: Investigation
NPC(s): Sage
Vehicles: Devilmobile, Devilwing​

The dark night settled upon the city of Keren like a soft blanket as the constant rolling waters of waterfalls and rivers contrasted with the flickering moonlight, casting its soft light upon Naboo through passing clouds. The streets and buildings lit up with all manner of lights that strung about, from the trees to the buildings themselves. Soft lights within the buildings told the story of who was awake and who had fallen promptly asleep during this deep and dark evening. The sound of insects softly chirping along with leaves gently rustling provided the backdrop of ambience on this calm and peaceful night. Few were out and about during this lovely evening.

However, the city had itself an uncommon visitor. A demon passing through the night.

Naboo cultivated an image of moral clarity, where diplomacy, compassion, and civic duty were not just ideals but daily practice. Not dissimilar from Alderaan. But it was not without reason the Black Ace's presence became necessary here. His investigations on Nar Shaddaa had led him here to the Kwilaan Starport in the Mercantile District, located in the city of Keren. There was a new player in Nar Shaddaa carrying an new influx of criminal enterprise ranging from money laundering and forged documentation to arms smuggling and sentient trafficking. It was almost clever too.

Who would ever tie a trusted and reputable company from Naboo to be tied with the illegal dealings on Nar Shaddaa? It sounded almost improbably.

Almost. For anyone except the Detective. Nothing escaped his notice.

Serene Transit.

His visor gazed upon the company name on one of the warehouses as he crawled along its wall with supernatural grace, moving higher up to view the inner workings of the building from a nearby window.

Gently reaching two fingers out and placing them on the glass, his cowl began to relay every noise and conversation inside through the sensitive microphones built into his gloves. His eyes narrowing as he focused on what exactly was being said.

"Pick up the pace, people."

"We're moving, we're moving."

Streams of dialogue and noise from inside. No one should have been here this late.

"Hey you heard the rumors about what went down at one of our warehouses?"

"I'm telling you. It's not real. Just Nar Shaddaa superstition."

He adjusted the listening device's range once more. He needed something more concrete than casual conversation.

"Don't worry. Everything is proceeding smoothly. Delivery has been moved up to tonight after you've expressed your . . . concerns."

"Good. I don't need another problem like with the other delivery," the second voice spoke. The audio did not match the others. This was a discussion via communicator.

"Please. You worry too much. We're far out of reach of whatever pest control problem you're having, if the rumors are true. You'll get your weapons soon."

A dark silence followed, "I better."

That would be enough for the Black Ace to move in. The Black Ace further scanned who and what was inside, counting their numbers and movements.

Several heartbeats. Several movements inside. Definitely more than three targets inside. There were guards outside too. He would need to neutralize them first before moving inside, even thought they could never spot him, never see him coming. Stealth was the only option here if he wished to collect any evidence before Keren authorities were alerted and not risk any of it being destroyed by the criminals inside the building.

And then there had been the additional factor that could disrupt his plans for the evening. Crawling quickly up until he was on the roof, his vision shifted away from the interior of the warehouse towards the exterior as his sensors detected movement and noise from a fair distance awat. He had kept tabs on anyone else possibly sharing the same investigation as him or operating in the region. Now, the Walking Shadow hid along his perch along the warehouse rooftop as his visor zoomed in on a singular figure edging closer and closer within the vicinity.

A Jedi. A Padawan too, judging from the braid. His visor ran facial recognition as he confirmed her name on the HUD. Cerys Dyn. Shifting his attention, he searched around her for any sign of a master or additional back up. Nothing. No one. Either she had come alone or she had hidden her allies in places that he could not detect yet. Neither of which were good.

But he observed and waited. If Padawan Dyn disrupted his investigation, betrayed her presence to the criminals inside, then it would prove necessary for him to step in and stop her before the situation deteriorated further. Especially if she opted for lethal methods of neutralization.

For now, he watched and waited as a silent guardian.

Direct: Cerys Dyn || Indirect: N/A​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

The rooftop was slick with dew, a thin sheen clinging to the duracrete beneath Cerys Dyn's boots as she crept toward the edge. Keren was quieter than she expected for a city of its size—peaceful, even. A place that wore the mask of innocence well.

But innocence was an illusion. She had learned that the hard way.

She dropped into a crouch, the hem of her dark cloak folding neatly beneath her. Below, the warehouse was active—too active for this time of night. Lights burned behind shaded glass. Voices drifted through the air, muffled but urgent. And the sign etched into the side of the building made her jaw tighten.

Serene Transit.

She had followed the trail from Nar Shaddaa. A smuggled manifest, a name scribbled in haste by a dying courier, a Force-tinged whisper of fear. This place was connected—she could feel it. And if she could prove the connection between the crimes of the Hutt-run underworld and a seemingly reputable Naboo company... maybe the Council would stop second-guessing her readiness. Maybe she'd stop second-guessing herself.

She reached up, gently brushing over her left montral. The gesture was automatic. Habit. A reminder of what she was. What she had to prove.

Cerys was not reckless, despite what her instructors sometimes said. She had no intention of charging in lightsaber-first.

Especially not now.

Her brow furrowed. There it was—a shift. A flicker of presence on the edge of her awareness. Not hostile, not loud. But distinct. She was being watched.

Not by the criminals below. This was something—or someone—else.

She rose slowly, muscles coiled but movements calm, scanning the rooftops and shadows around her without turning her head too sharply. Whoever it was, they were good. She saw nothing. Heard nothing.

But she felt them.

So she waited. Changed her rhythm. Moved with greater care.

No flashy entrance. No righteous speech. Just silence, observation, and focus.

A Jedi may be a symbol—but a shadow could see deeper.

Tonight, she would be the shadow.

TAG: DEVILMAN
EQUIPMENT: Twin blue lightsabers (deactivated), encrypted comlink, small holo-recorder

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[DEVILMAN]

Naboo – Keren – Warehouse Rooftop
Objective: Investigation & Interrogation
NPC(s): Sage
Vehicles: Devilmobile, Devilwing​

As the Jedi Padawan detected a presence on the outside of periphery, the Black Ace knew he had her attention diverted as her micro-expressions indicted the padawan was looking elsewhere for him. Stealth contained not only the methodology of remaining unseen but redirecting the enemy's attention away from one self. Camouflaging himself in this deception, the Walking Shadow approached the uninitiated shadow. Ms. Dyn had felt his presence elsewhere and that lingering yet distracted instinct would be to his advantage.

The voice of The Fiend cut through the night air, chilling right down to the bone. A controlled, haggard growl. Not necessarily aggressive, yet, but enough to give anyone pause, especially with syringes filled with sedative pressed against her neck.

"Don't move."

The Demon's presence now felt entirely by her as the needles against her neck did not shift in aim nor in movement. Almost inhuman entirely as there appeared no indication of fatigue or breathing shaking the aim. It was immutable. Cold, precise, methodical. The syringe needles threatened to plunge into her neck and inject a sedative without an ounce of hesitation. Nothing harmful but he could render her unconscious long enough for him to continue his mission without any distractions or obstacles.

If the action should prove necessary. What Padawan Dyn chose to do next would decide the outcome of this brief interaction.

The cold inquisitive voice cut through the silence once more, "Why are you here?"

There would be a slight shift as the needles prodded her skin a little more closely, if the padawan chose to make any movements. A reminder that the Proto-Predator held the upper hand here. Jedi were fast, quick. Their reflexes most likely exceeding the Fiend's own. But preparation and deception were the Walking Shadow's allies in this endeavor. If the padawan moved to strike him, Ms. Dyn would be unconscious within moments before she could make a significant injury to the Demon.

He held no personal preference if Padawan Dyn remained conscious or not for the evening, but if she interfered with his mission, then the she would need to be neutralized.

Direct: Cerys Dyn || Indirect: N/A​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Cerys’ hand instinctively brushed the hilt of her lightsaber, but she kept herself still, her senses reaching outward in a practiced effort to stay grounded in the present. The presence she felt—whatever it was—remained elusive. There was no immediate danger, at least none that was clear.

The soft, controlled voice of the man behind her sent a ripple through her calm exterior. It was deliberate, cold—something that settled deep in her gut.

The syringe tips felt almost like a second heartbeat against her neck. Cold. Unmoving. She could almost hear the hiss of the sedative’s pressurized release within the metal casing, the unmistakable promise of something potent.

Yet, she didn’t move. She wouldn’t give away any sign of alarm, any movement to show that he had caught her by surprise. Her chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of steady breath, eyes scanning the shadows without turning her head. She could not see him, but she could feel the careful precision of his actions.

She remained quiet, focusing on her posture, keeping her body loose but prepared. Her mind flitted over her options—strike first, or wait?

The question was simple. The answer was more complex. In her heart, she knew what her first response should be: patience.

“I'm here to ensure there are no innocent lives harmed tonight,” she said the partial truth softly, her voice steady, offering no hint of fear or anger. She wasn’t backing down—but she wasn’t reacting hastily, either.

Her calm expression betrayed none of the chaos that churned beneath her usual stoic demeanor. She had encountered danger before, and this moment wasn’t different. Not yet.

She waited. For the next move. For any sign of weakness, any indication of intent. The Force whispered around her, a calming presence despite the tension in the air. But she stayed still, not giving him a reason to strike.

"Now, who are you?" she asked, her voice still cool, controlled, but now more inquisitive than before. Her gaze flicked around the rooftop once again, checking the shadows, unsure if he would answer or if silence would rule the night.

TAG: DEVILMAN

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