Wearing:
Diplomatic Gown
Armed with: Subverter's Blade (Double Bladed Red Lightsaber)
A few hours earlier...
Current Persona: Vivian (See Bio)
Schoolteacher and part time Force Healer Vivian Duual sat across from a very talented photographer, patiently observing each photo of her he pulled out. He seemed rather scrawny, in a plain white shirt and black pants and shoes. Vivian was dressed in a black gown, her dark red hair tied in a bun. They were in her home, a simple cottage on the plains of Naboo, a large garage on Naboo.
"These photos could have been doctored." She said in a flat monotone.
"Old fashioned, chemical based methods of photography, while not impossible to fake, are extremely difficult to do so. Any casual analysis by a Forensics Droid will confirm their authenticity." He replied, sitting across her kitchen table.
"And what, exactly, do you think these photos prove?"
"I think they prove that Arianna Belasko...the
real Arianna Belasko...has been dead for quite some time."
"Any business I may or may not have with Countess Belasko is strictly my own affair." Vivian replied patiently.
"See? That's the thing. Countess Belasko has for months now, gone on long stretches where she simply cannot be reached. In any fashion. Even at her Mansion, where the only activity I have observed is the cleaning droids. In fact, the only thing I noticed is the only time Belasko comes out of her Mansion...is when you go in..."
"And Vice Versa."
"Correct."
Vivian patiently folded her hands on the table.
"Murder is a very serious accusation. What proof do you have, beyond my comings and goings? And even if you're right, what's preventing me from simply killing you?"
The Photographer smiled. "Glad you asked."
He showed a holorecording that displayed Vivian leaching the psychic energy of a Naboo guardsman, her flesh shuddering disgustingly as she did so. The victim wasn't dead, but he had amnesia regarding the entire incident.
"In answer to your other question, you're not stupid. You don't know how many copies I have,just like you don't know of any contingencies I might have put in place in the event I should disappear." The Photographer explained confidently.
"Has it occured to you that perhaps I
am Arianna, and am simply moonlighting as this school teacher?" Vivian questioned.
"It did, but I checked the records. There's no 'Vivian Duual' before a few years ago, and Arianna was around a lot longer than that, and had very different habits than current. And even if that were the case, it doesn't absolve you of feeding randomly on Naboo Citizenry. Even if they don't die from your attacks and never have. You're an Imposter. The real Arianna is long gone."
Vivian gave a sigh.
"And just
what is it you want to make this all go away?" Vivian asked.
He leaned forward.
"I want twenty million credits. Every two years. Forever."
"Money, is it. Here's my counter-offer. One time payment of one hundred million, in exchange for all your evidence, and that's because you are bold to bargain with one such as I. I admire that."
The Photographer smiled, and shook his head.
"I'm afraid you don't understand. This is an ongoing thing. You're not getting rid of me. I know what this secret is worth."
"No. You don't understand." Vivian corrected clinically, but patiently. "You don't have evidence. This isn't evidence. It's a noose around your neck and the neck of everyone who has seen it. Your position is untenable and if I am honest, truly honest, the Hundred Million was really more of a friendly warning than admiration. But let me explain to you your strategic position at the moment. You have obtained evidence that an extremely powerful Witch in the Knight's Obsidian has been possibly brutally murdered and replaced by
something and you think a few basic back ups, a hidden cache of photos here, a confident or two will keep me from dropping the hammer on your sorry ass. It won't. Expose me and I shall simply obtain another face. I can go into hiding any time I get good and ready. But not you. Expose me and the hundred million one time payment I am offering
maybe buys you a few weeks of running and hiding. But it'll run out, and you'll leave a trail. Now, say you take this to the press right now because I refuse. You honestly think I can't sway things behind the scenes to get your so-called evidence dismissed? What makes you think I couldn't have evidence simply planted on you, to discredit you? Expose me and I'll kill you and everyone who helped you...but not before going out of my way to make you
and them look like absolute raving
lunatics. You have photos, and picture is worth a thousand words, but it's not body armor...which you
will need if this goes farther than this room."
The Photographer was silent, the smile having fallen from his face completely, and his pallor had gone deathly pale.
The elderly Vivian sipped some chamomile tea, taking out her check book.
"A hundred million is all you're getting for working the puzzle out..." she said, writing a check in Arianna's cursive handwriting style. "Take my advice, open up a studio. Kick-start your career. I trust that this is the last time we will speak. I expect the evidence bright and early by tomorrow on my doorstep. All of it."
She handed him the check and the now silent, contemplative man took it. He left the photos, running out of her house to his speeder.
"Young people..." Vivian sighed. There was a beep on her wrist chrono. Arianna had an appointment to keep.
Vivian went to the basement of her cottage. There was a young lady she had kidnapped just this morning. Vivian kept her sedated. She wasn't a sadist. She didn't do these kidnappings for pleasure. It was solely to obtain nourishment.
Vivian removed her black gown and put on a white one with exposed shoulders, with a metallic sheen.
Then she went over to the unconscious victim, holding out her hand.
Her flesh shuddered and bubbled hideously on her skeleton as she took in as much of the psychic energy as possible, Vivian's mind becoming completely submerged, gaining a foul, rotting but ultimately completely fake Dark Side Aura as the elderly redhead vanished beneath the features of a youthful, gorgeous blond woman with sharp blue eyes.
Arianna Belasko temporarily lived once more. Assuming this was a cottage she owned for privacy, the false Persona of Arianna, secretly puppeted by Vivian, perceived the victim as dead. She was not. She would be deposited unharmed on the streets of Theed.
The false Dark Sider summoned one of her personal transports via comm-link and in fifteen minutes, a luxury white speeder pulled up in the garage and she got in...
Arianna had gained a prospect. Someone to train in the Force. To make stronger. Much of her time was committed to helping Darth Xiphos ,but she needed a student. As Palpatine had put it, a master without an apprentice is a master of nothing.
The Speeder soon took her to a rented villa and Arianna stepped out.
"Posh, good taste..." Arianna remarked as she began to traverse the villa, until she finally sensed
Jane lovett , finding her by the lake.
"Lady Iovett. A pleasure. I am Countess Arianna Belasko. I am told you would seek my knowledge on the issue of magic. I have much to show you. A great many things. Lovely Villa by the way."