Not My First Rodeo

[Jarven Zexxel]

A bag over his head? No biggie. No communication with his holders? Whatever. Little water and no food? He'd be fine.

Forced to wear a cybernetics tech dampener for the past two days? T'was annoying as hell. Imagine being drunk, but you're fully cognizant. It's like you've been replaced with a clumsy kid on Ritalin. Plus, it was a physical presence; a large hump situated in the data port on the back of his neck. It gave off slight, unpleasant, nostalgic feelings of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

He was forcibly sat down and the bag came off his head with a flourish. He winced at the new brightness, but, as his eyes adjusted, he could see a glass of water and a small plate of dark chocolate covered pretzel crisps. His hands, naturally, went forward to seize the goodies. However, his hands soon seized to a halt and he could make out the magnetic disturbance field that was stopping the magna cuffs on his hands to go further.

This didn't stop him. Instead, he leaned his head in towards the plate and used his mouth to snatch up the delicious pretzel crisps. He snatched one up in his mouth and started chomping it down quickly. The guards, surprised by this motion, came forward to try and settle him down. Before they got too aggressive of thoughts, he leaned back, swallowed the pretzel crisp bits, raised his hands and said in a placating voice,

"Hey, hey! No need to get up in arms. I'm just starving, okay? Just a little snack grab; nothing too big; there's enough to go around, still..."

Realizing the juvenile futility of apprehending him after he'd already snatched a pretzel crisp, the guards began to back off; albeit ticked off.

Damn, thought Jarven. Those pretzel crisps really leave you dry...

Making a relaxing gesture, he suddenly leaned forward to sip the water near the top of the full glass. He got in a couple of drinks before he was grabbed and subdued in his chair by multiple sets of hands.

There was little he could do while his cyborg body felt this clumsy and his hands were magnacuffed, but he still squirmed around under the pressure whilst yelling,

"It's just a drink of water, you white head pricks!"

Orders were orders to the soldiers, though, and they hated the feeling that they were being bamboozled into relinquishing food and water to their prisoner before he was allowed to partake.

[member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Caelia"]​

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Her first interrogation. What fun.

"So what do I do? Ask him nicely and if he doesn't co-operate, rough him up a little or a lot depending on how helpful he is?" Caelia smirked as she watched the prisoner from the other side of the two-way mirror. "If that sounds fine then I'll head on in. No point in just standing around," the pink haired woman said and headed inside the interrogation room without waiting for a reply from her superior. She could be a little troublesome like that.

"Hello," she said, greeting the cyborg. "Looks like someone is hungry," she stated, taking one of the seats opposite the man's. "So am I," Caelia moved to pull the bowl of dark chocolate coated pretzel towards her and out of his reach then proceeded to remove one.

"Hmm...How should we start?" She mused and took a bite out of the pretzel. "Oh, I know. What is your name? What are you doing here?" she asked. It was obvious she was untrained in the art of interrogation.

"Were you looking to cause trouble in First Order territory?" Caelia continued without giving the man much time to reply to her previous questions. "I hope not, we really don't appreciate people pulling poodoo around here," she added.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"] - [member="Val Kordova"]​

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

About the same time that the guards stopped getting grabby and control freaky, an anime character walked in. Jarven believed it was the great HowToBasic that once said, "You can't trust a person with pink hair". But, that was none of his business.

Jarven fully recognized that the pretzel crisps didn't belong to him, but...when a Gank laid claim to something, they became highly territorial over it. His lips curled back to aggressively show off the rather pronounced canines in his mouth. He soon came to his senses that he couldn't allow himself to be ruled by baser instincts; not here, not now. His lips came back down and, instead, he grimaced.

What is your name? What are you doing here?

He started to say, "My name is Jarven Zexxel. I came here becau---"

Were you looking to cause trouble in First Order territory?

"I---"

I hope not, we really don't appreciate people pulling poodoo around here,

Jarven's jaw set tightly until he was certain he could speak now. Millennials: They just keep getting cheekier by the passing day. Either they didn't know who he was or this runt hadn't bothered to read up on Jarven. He didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed that he was being labeled as a potential nuisance rather than a notorious mercenary/suspected criminal.

"I came here. I was not captured, despite what Richard Cranium over there would have you believe..." said Jarven as he turned to look at a particularly superior ranking guardsmen present in the room. He narrowed his eyes at him before turning his head and looking back at Ms. Pinkerton.

"Trust you/me, lady: If I wanted to cause something as blatant and bland as "trouble", you and every other intelligence specialist would already know about it. If I want to pull poodoo with a government, their very infrastructure is going to feel the effect of my bathroom break."

He tried to settle in to his chair to get comfy...He also tried to stop staring at the dark chocolate pretzel crisps and glass of water....

[member="Caelia"] | [member="Val Kordova"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

[ img source ] ​

Subject Status: In Custody​

Subject Name: [member="Jarven Zexxel"]​

Records Check: Pending​

​

It wasn't every day that a member of the Gank species occupied First Order space. If half the stories were to be believed, the fact that there had been was an awful sign. Male, that much was evident - and a cyborg. Par for the course according to the records Valerie could find. The woman's eyes traced over the datapad in her hands. Surprisingly little information was provided on the subject on the other side of the one way glass. With a distasteful glance, Val shifted her weight, kicking the small cockroach aside - the scratching noises on the duracrete floor had begun to annoy her. She was a field agent at heart, but even then she much would have preferred to have utilized on of the more modern facilities - but, this was probably for the best. It wasn't modernized, but it was secure. One luxury they did have at their current facility were the thick walls, designed to keep any sort of signals or scans from penetrating the thick walls. As her eyes scanned further across the digital screen, her concentration was broken as her ward chirpily spoke and waltzed into the interrogation room. She lifted her hand and started to say something but stopped. *Too late now.*

With a somewhat resigned sigh, she rested the datapad on the small table next to the window, gazing through into the dingy room ahead. From this side of the glass, she could see and hear everything - not so from the other side. Eyes locking onto the subject, she gave him a once over. He looked rough around the edges, though not overly so, how much of that had happened en route she wouldn't hazard a guess. He was an older man, thought not what she'd consider old, if she could read people, she'd say he had weathered more than his fair share of storms in his day. For now, she was content to watch, though if her ward continued the interrogation in the same manner, she might be required to step in soon enough.

[member="Caelia"]​

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Admittedly, Caelia had not read the subject's file and made a bit of an ass of herself - but neither the subject nor her superior needed to know that. She only needed to act as if her kark up was intentional.

"Huh? So your files were right. You really came here of your own accord? Strange man," the pink haired woman took another chocolate coated pretzel from the bowl and pushed it towards the subject then folded her hands one over the other. "So, Mr Zexxel, why and how did you find us? Normally it's the other way around - we find you. Surely, there must be something you want from us if you went to all that trouble?" Caelia smirked. There was something the cyborg wanted, she could sense it.

"Or," she paused for dramatic effect. "Are you a spy for the Galactic Alliance with intentions of infiltrating our ranks?" the agent pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear as she waited for the man to answer. She was probably a tad harsh on the man with her questioning but one could never be too careful.

[member="Val Kordova"] - [member="Jarven Zexxel"]​

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

[member="Val Kordova"]

When Yuuno Gasai pushed the tray of crisps closer to him, he instinctively reached with his hands. However, still being magnacuffed kept his hands from being able to even reach close to the table. So, he leaned forward and started grabbing them with his mouth alone. He didn't care if this made him look weak. He was hungry and dark chocolate covered pretzel crisps tasted really good.

"So, Mr Zexxel, why and how did you find us? Normally it's the other way around - we find you. Surely, there must be something you want from us if you went to all that trouble?"

Jarven didn't bother responding right away. He knew she had a tendency to not actually finish her side of the conversation the first time you might suspect. So, he kept eating.

"Or," she paused for dramatic effect. "Are you a spy for the Galactic Alliance with intentions of infiltrating our ranks?"

Jarven couldn't help but laugh out loud at her words, all the while accidentally spewing a couple chunks of crisps out onto the plate. Doing this made him laugh harder, since it felt like he had just inadvertently "marked his territory" on "his" tray of food. No way she'd mooch any more crisps now. He leaned back, swallowed and then spoke, saying,

"Sorry, but you couldn't have phrased that in any more of a dramatic, cliche way. I know it's a common thought process to think about and question a guy on, but you were just too good of a drama queen about it that I couldn't help but laugh. The pink hair really sells the lesb--I mean, thespian look about you."

He tried to suppress another bout of small laughter before he proceeded to get serious. He got comfy in his seat and then spoke.

"I've lived an exciting life, but I'm not at all ready to quit. I've seen many things; ran with lots of...interesting people. I've developed particular sets of skills that let you either retire a hunted millionaire or six feet under. The people I've run with...they believe that crime can never be stopped; that it can only be controlled and redirected. I've known about enough criminals to understand that they're not some undying fact of every day life. They're just people and people can be molded...or crushed."

Dangerous eyes looked up to stare [member="Caelia"] in the face.

"Crime can be controlled, most definitely. With any degree of control also comes the ability to destroy. I believe that crime can be manipulated and either brought in check or even as far as eradicated, with the right amount of time and effort, of course. Why did I come to the First Order? You're doing right by your people, bringing them the order and peace that they need. You're doing them right here in the Outer Rim and you seem to be the ONLY faction doing it right. That's definitely something I can get behind."

Jarven grinned and a corner of his lips reared back as part of it; revealing a rather pronounced canine poking past the raised section of lip.

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Caelia wrinkled her nose, not bothering to hide her disgust when the man laughed at her words, spraying chunks of crisps out of his mouth. How gross. Slightly annoyed by the man ruining perfectly good crisps - at least for her - she gave the man a disapproving look. Oh well, he's the one gaining the calories now, she thought. I hope he gains weight somewhere unflattering.

"Excuse me?" she frowned. "I'm no drama queen, pup, and I'm sure you're not very up to date with the fashion and the like so it is only natural you wouldn't know that pink hair is very on trend," she said and aimed a kick at his shin under the table - something she hoped her superior would not notice.

Uninterested eyes stared back at the dangerous eyes, concealing the fear they evoked in her.

"So the pup has had a rough life and wants to assist us by controlling crime?" Caelia said thoughtfully. "Interesting idea. Sounds kinda useful," she smirked. "But unfortunately, I'm just a grunt so I have no authority on this so let me call in my superior," she turned around to face the one-way mirror and gestured at her superior to enter the room to join the interrogation.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"] - [member="Val Kordova"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

Subject Status: In Custody​

Subject Name: [member="Jarven Zexxel"]​

Records Check: Pending​

​

Glancing across at the datapad, she noted that the records search was still processing. With a resigned sigh, she shrugged her shoulders beneath the leather jacket she wore. Unlike the majority of her peers, Val hadn't quite been transitioned to a full time desk job, as such she still bore many of her habits from her field agent days - namely, lack of a proper uniform. She wore the attire of one of her few legends, Mira Orantis, piercings in both her right nostril and septum. Certainly not official looking, through her posture said otherwise. Narrowing her eyes one last time before making her move, she stepped towards the door, grasping the cool metal handle sending involuntary goosebumps up her arm. Pushing the door inward, now is when things got serious.

Immediately upon entering, all it took was a simple gesture with the index finger of her right hand signalling the security to vacate the room. Hesitantly at first, then shuffling faster as Val glared in their direction, the guards made their way out of the room. Giving a curt nod to her subordinate, she placed her hands on the table, lowering herself to eye level with the man across the table. An amused smirk crossed her features, a raised eyebrow as she glanced the bowl of crisps and crumbs littering the table. She met the man's eyes, searching for something - anything. For a few moments she sat there before standing, walking to the mirrored window. Her eyes looked into the face that greeted her, her own - the eyes spoke of more than one would have thought for someone of her age, a wisdom there not often found. She'd learned much in the employ of the First Order, some willingly, other bits not so much.

Turning back to the restrained man, she spoke calmly.

"So - Mr. Zexxel. Tell me, exactly - what brings you to First Order space? I'm aware of your claims to my associate here, but I'm curious - at the end of the day, why should we let you roam when we could simply let you rot in one of our prisons?" She paused, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "Sell me."​

​

[member="Caelia"]​

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

Anime McWaifu thought she was being an upstanding comedian. She called him pup. The faux humor and frustration of the situation became background noise as her choice of words reminded him of his own flesh and blood. His little boy off...who knows where. He was giving the table in front of him the 1000 yard stare before he finally replied to her, saying,

"Huh. Seems about right..."

Bad Attitude Incarnate walked into the room and Jarven recognized seniority when he saw it. The way she handled herself belied the fashion she was trying to exude. He had no idea why she would dress in such a way on the job, but he had become accustomed to stranger things in the Red Ravens and Black Ties. At least she had dispelled the presence of Richard Cranium and the Hard Head Crew from this room. That was nice.

"Sell you?" replied Jarven. "I thought the First Order disapproved of slavery?"

His own mischievous grin settled on his face before turning serious.

"You want a sales pitch? Fine. You've got one. My name is Jarven Zexxel. I'm the Gank responsible for wiping out the well-established Galz Family, a niktos mercenary syndicate. I'm a hacker, a commando, and an underworld strategist. I'm more cybernetically enhanced than most Ganks can dream to imagine. To top it all off, I'm the co-founder of the Black Tie syndicate. You don't want me in jail, because I have more friends in jail than you do on Spacebook. You don't want me rotting in some max security solitary confinement pit because I'm far too useful. You and all the other FOs think you know the Outer Rim cuz this is where your rags story originated. Well, I was born here, too. You think you know the Outer Rim? You don't know it like I do; the pretty sights and the underbelly. What about the Mid Rim and the Inner Rim? Do you know jack about that? Do you know how to trick the Hapan courts, stroll through Imperial Center like you own the place or even how to walk into an Onderonian bar without starting a fight?"

Jarven was sitting straight up in his seat, at this point, with his fingers steepled tactfully.

"You guys are strong, sure. I won't argue that. Yet, strength can only get you so far, like jam across bread. There's only so many rounds you can fire, so many words to be spoken before everything goes to Hell. That's why the FOSB is here. It's information that trumps all. It's the back door, dirty dealing that secures. It's the knife in the back, poison in the cup, whisper here and a threat there that keeps the soldiers maintained and the diplomats confident. At best, you want me. At worst, you need me."

He slumped comfortably in his chair, grabbed another crisp (from the tray that was now in his lap), bit into it enthusiastically and smiled as he chewed with his mouth closed. He winked at the pup, [member="Caelia"] in silent triumph. Any true blue car salesman would be proud of Jarven's rhetoric that day, maybe.

[member="Val Kordova"]

 

[Progflaw99]

She met his gaze, second for second, moment for moment. And then their prisoner spoke. Val wasn't impressed. Humor had hardly been her forte, an early life of pain and the realities of the world stripping her of true appreciation for the gesture - oh she could fake it well enough but only when the need arose and this was not one of those times. Blinking idly as the man made an attempt at the joke, she took a step back, listening to him speak. As a field agent, she knew exactly what the man was saying - and she couldn't deny the truth of the matter. Even the scummiest of scum had their uses, it was all about how you used them. Certainly there were liabilities involved but such was the nature of the intelligence profession. She turned away from the man, facing one of the matte walls and stifled a hmpf of dismissal as he asked her what she knew of the outer rim. Had he known the half of her backstory, both in and out of legend, he might have even been impressed - but no. Instead she kept her composure, turning back as he continued speaking.

Need? No, they didn't need him. That said, she couldn't justify throwing away an asset that could be of use to the FOSB. Perhaps this man had a fear, some underlying weakness but she didn't have the time nor the will to search it out. While torture had it's purpose, Val found that it was the threat of such that was more often effective than the actual deliverance of pain and discomfort - but even that was far too direct for her tastes. No, she would let him show her his own weaknesses, willfully or perhaps even through his actions, not here and not now.

Placing her hands once more on the table as she leaned in, she spoke once more.

"Need? No. But.." She paused. "..We could use your talents."​

​

With a wave of her hand, the intensity of the lights in the room increased, a sudden surge of power draw being shut down. If their subject were to attempt an uplink with his cybernetics he would find the signal externally still garbled to prevent any external transmissions - in or out - but internally to the complex, he would be able to at the very least recognize they'd disengaged the most rigid of lockdown procedures. She motioned towards the door and stepped in that direction.

"Follow me."​

​

She might have turned her back on the man, but she was no fool. Carefully she watched with her peripheral vision in the mirrored window. Mr. Zexxel should find his restraints disabled, allowing him to rise and follow in her wake should he so choose.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]​

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

His heart fluttered as the cuffs came off and the "hunch back strap-on" on the back of his neck was deactivated. Slowly, he extricated the tech nullified from the back of his neck and it hurt more than he expected.

When it finally came off after a couple grunts of pain, he found that he was suddenly very tired. The experience had been equivalent to stressing every muscle in your body at once and then releasing. There was a tired, older look in his eyes, if only for a moment. In a moment of weakness, he day dreamed. A flash of blonde hair, playing with his step kids on the beach, a little bundle of joy that was his own flesh and blood baby boy. He rubbed his eyes and got up.

His body was too stressed to try and hack anything; not that he had an interest. The friends in prison was more of a scare tactic. He simply hated the idea of rotting in a jail cell, pondering his life and wasting time. There was no one to send any messages to, no elaborate ruse planned. It was like he was back in the bar with Keira: he was hurting, lonely and simply wanted a pack to run with.

He didn't care about being used, so long as the owner pet the dog now and again.

He set his jaw and licked his lips before saying,

"Where to, Capitano?"

[member="Val Kordova"]