Private Rational Efficiency meets Silent Control, words whispered over a nest of vipers.

[Mr Black]

Apex Headquarters on Denon

One hour before detonation.

No metaphor this time, actual detonation. A vaporising cloud waiting to happen. Adjusting his collar and flaring his cuffs, wishing it were as simple as that. If only. One hour before the board met, anything could happen.

His assistant, Annasun, tall, precise, and with every strand of blonde hair engineered into place, stepped forward to adjust his tie. The act more than a formality or affection; a coded transfer of data occurred to the chip on the tie. The Hapan woman far from a mere advisor.

Outside, a heavily armed 6-man A-TRD team guarded the boardroom hallway like a clenched fist. ASF moved throughout the corridors of Apex Headquarters like layers of clockwork. Inside three humanoid shapes stood in the room, two of which were stone-cold metal HRD replica droids, their near perfect synthetic skin catching the gleam from the window. Not the droids, nor the security, posed the greatest danger; it was that smartly dressed Annasun, calm, immaculate, and lethal in her silence.

A large, burly man named Broca set the infamous black briefcase to rest on the table. It began to unfold with a whir, projecting a collection of screens and data feeds rivalling a small intelligence service, his expression eased. "She made it; invite her up. And give her an escort, A welcome distraction today."

The A-TRD team in the corridor pivoted to move as one, boots striking a precise cadence to wherever Darth Keres was. They would give her a direct escort up the long executive elevator to the upper floors and the empty boardroom, giving them room to speak.

"Do you think the board will agree?" Black asked Annasun, and she gave a look that made the HRD's look expressive. He smiled and nodded, understanding exactly what she meant, adjusting the cybernetic arm to be well below the suit, ending in a glove. Too many hidden factors to calculate.

The dim empty Apex Boardroom spread wide, a monument to corporate silver durasteel and reinforced glas, offering a panoramic view of Denon's neon lifeblood. Though not all districts were as he remembered them. This one still was. Rain streaked the windows, refracting the city into smears of blue and violet, blurring the lines between surprise and safety. The long obsidian table stretched like a runway ready for launch, polished and rebuilt after past confrontations. This was a battleground disguised as a board meeting. Every empty seat would represent a faction, and words between them could be daggers. Not all meetings ended without blood of some kind spilled.

Security wasn't just for show.

The room lit up as their first guest arrived, the glow from his briefcase terminal matched by minimalist but cool blue lighting. Not enough to glare or expose every secret, but enough to see who you were talking to.

Darth Keres

 

[Darth Keres]

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[]

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Location: Denon - Apex Headquarters
Tag: Mr Black

Through the veiled night of Denon’s polluted heavens, the Taciturnitas, her haunted ship descended like a falling omen. Its black hull drank the city’s light, reflecting nothing, as if the stars themselves recoiled from its passing. Lightning cracked through the storm haze, revealing the ghostly figure of Darth Keres standing upon the ship’s prow—silent, statuesque, her presence a wound in the world’s serenity.

Below, the endless towers of Denon rose like the teeth of a metropolitan beast, their windows flickering with the pallid glow of sleepless commerce. Somewhere amid that labyrinth of steel and sorrow awaited Mr. Black—merchant, entrepreneur.

When Darth Keres set foot upon the drenched landing platform, the air itself seemed to retreat, folding inward to accommodate her silence. No words, no thunder—only the cold certainty that something dreadful had arrived to speak in whispers and end in quiet.

The doors of the building parted with a sigh, as though the structure itself dreaded her approach. Inside, the air was perfumed with wealth—an opulent decay that clung like old flesh. Two escorts in polished attire bowed low, their movements stiff with a reverence born not of respect, but fear. Without a word, they led her through a stiff corridor lined with holographic portraits of members long dead, whose violet-blue patronizing eyes seemed to follow her passage. The echo of her steps—measured, spectral—filled the halls like a heartbeat in a tomb.

At last, they halted before a set of towering black doors inlaid with gold filigree. One escort dared a glance at her; his breath caught at the void where her eyes should gleam. Darth Keres inclined her head ever so slightly, and the doors slid open to reveal Mr. Black awaiting her amid other colleagues—eyes drawn to an aura imbued with silence and secrecy—her scent of power, fear, and complete dominance thickened the room, and the silence that followed was absolute—alive, expectant, divine.

"Do not rise. The living seldom need stand before the inevitable," her cold voice whispered, a chill of illusion seeping into the room, "I am neither guest nor threat—merely consequence given form."

Darth Keres let her gaze drift across the chamber, her silence heavier than any threat. "I am Darth Keres. Some call me silence; others, debt made flesh," speaking in absolute conviction: the Mistress of Silence moved to a seat, adding as she sat, "Now that you are acquainted with me, speak wisely, gentlemen on matters of importance. The air remembers everything you dare to say.”

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Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • Basic Lightsaber​
  • 
    
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
  • 
    
• Accessories​

 

[Mr Black]

30 Minutes Before the Board Meeting.

Cool light outdone by the corridors' illumination, like the words of a commanding Sith carried along a current of inevitable focus to follow. Black almost stood as she entered. But she spoke first, her voice holding the moment, fear, and respect.

Remaining seated, a smile at one corner of his mouth. She had command presence, and she'd made her entrance count. For a moment, he was quietly grateful the rest of the board hadn't arrived yet; he didn't need their noise or their bluster interfering, their inevitable posturing for favor or position that would have followed. Instead, near silence; the two standing HRD bowed their heads in sync; for the others, Annasun remained watchful, and Broca respectfully silent.

"Welcome to Apex," Black said. No overdone courtesy, only the confidence of a man who didn't need to raise his voice to be heard. Apex had multiple meanings by design, each one intentional and not all obvious. He skipped the small talk. What he had of her file and words made it clear that it would be wasted. How he'd got that file was another matter; switching off the apex of AI data flowing across the screens in front of him, the briefcase fell silent for a time.

"Thank you, Captain. That'll be all." The escort team nodded and stepped out to guard the hallway. The doors shut, sealing them in.

Balen Var Black leaned back slightly, fingertips meeting in a practiced triangle, his expression not cautious but thoughtful and calculating.

"We asked for this meeting because we think there's overlap," he said. "Not in goals, let's not kid ourselves, but in method."

Broca placed the glass of water near Darth Keres and pulled out a chair. Whether she took it or not didn't matter; the gesture itself was part of their mapped routine. Black continued, his tone calm and precise. "Efficiency," he said, as if the word were currency. "Silent Coordination. Two things the galaxy consistently undervalues until it's too late. We're hoping to avoid the too late part." At least in regard to their own interest, there were troubling developments from a frictional perspective that threatened imbalance.

Darth Keres

 

[Darth Keres]

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[]

Tag: Mr Black

Darth Keres sat in silence at the edge of her seat, her eyes—two dying stars in a void—traced the man before her as he spoke with a poise of one accustomed to control; as walls, cold and glimmering with faint reflections of the city’s nightlight spires, seemed to absorb sound itself.

When he spoke, behind his polite lips , she discerned the tremor of fear he could wield, that no mask could conceal. Every word he spoke was a calculation. She studied him not as one studies a man, but as one dissects a specimen—measuring the decay beneath his ambition, the hollowness in his heart.

"Efficiency and Silent Coordination."

Darth Keres spoke not a word afterwards, letting a shivering silence hover. Her thoughts coiled in silence, cold and deliberate, as the terms Silent Coordination and Efficiency lingered like incense upon the air.

To lesser minds, it was a matter of profit and progress—but to her, it was a hymn to control. She pondered the stillness between actions, the unseen dominion born of quiet obedience. Such efficiency was not merely business; it was the architecture of submission, a harmony built on the erasure of will.

Her voice, when it came, was low and deliberate—an echo drawn from the depths of stillness itself.

“Your proposal,” Darth Keres murmured, her gaze cutting through the dim light, “Carries the scent of order I admire.” She allowed the silence that followed to linger like a blade suspended in air. “I shall commit to its course—partially. Efficiency thrives, yes… but silence must govern, not serve. I wish to hear more of this beautiful story, to be drawn fully into commitment—but first."

Darth Keres lifted the offered glass with a motion so measured it seemed ritualistic. The bright light caught upon the liquid’s surface—clear, deceitful, still: briefly she studied the liquid inside. Without a word spoken, she tilted it, letting the water spill in a slow, deliberate cascade across the polished floor, its sound a fragile whisper, her smile an omen wrapped in civility.

Only then did she speak again, her voice a velvet blade cutting through the gloom. “Tardiness is clearly unexcusable for you and I," she murmured, each syllable steeped in quiet disdain. The words hung in the air like a curse—soft, precise, and heavy with unspoken consequence.

​

Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • Basic Lightsaber​
  • 
    
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
  • 
    
• Accessories​

 

[Mr Black]

As the liquid spilled, he understood her meaning; the answer was automated and efficient, there was no waste. A small droid no bigger than her palm moved silently across the floor, cleaning after her. If allowed to continue, she'd find it drew the water back for cleaning and refiltering into the nearby wall.

What to reveal within the silence. He tapped his fingers together gently, turning in his chair to a terminal screen on the wall. It projected outward to a display ahead of them, not some cheap Republica-era knockoff, but a high-resolution design.

He showed her pictures of gang violence, street-level rebellion done in quiet alley trades, legendary figures who had flipped sides, unpredictable conflicts that had ended planets, corporations competing with each other, secrets stolen, refugee movements from constant war, data sliced with even a taste of undernet wars through slicers' eyes, chaos. The exact opposite of what he'd just described to her.

Letting that run for a few minutes.

"Silence," he said at last, voice in an even tone, "should be the goal of all governance. To lead without need for bluster. Some fix this by suppression alone, others by giving it everything it wants. They all miss the point; both approaches lead to ever-changing, uncontrollable outcomes."

He flicked the display off and turned his chair back to her.

"What if everything had purpose and place, it just lacked integration? Shaped for interdependency rather than external mandate." He let that sit, his tone calm and analytical, confident enough to offer a theory to a Sith without deference. There was more to it, but he waited to see if his words were landing with her.

"A recursive, self-feeding system," he continued after a pause, "sustained by its own needs. Silent and structured. Its unpredictability becomes its balance." He pointed at the cleaning droid.

"Even chaos can be engineered to serve function," he said, the faintest trace of a knowing smile touching his mouth, not mockery, but the quiet satisfaction of a man unafraid to propose grand ideas.

He thought in terms of systems and frameworks, with the galaxy in efficient order. Fighting chaos was a fool's errand when it could be the foundation of order itself, an integral part of the machine.

Darth Keres

 

[Darth Keres]

​

[]

Tag: Mr Black


In the bright illumination of the boardroom office, Darth Keres sat wreathed in silence—a silhouette cut from the fabric of midnight itself. The air trembled faintly, as though the walls held their breath in reverence or fear. The man before her spoke, his voice wavering like a candle caught in a slow exhale of wind. Darth Keres did not interrupt. Her gaze—those abyssal, burning eyes—remained fixed upon him, unblinking, unrelenting, as if she could peel back the fragile veil of flesh and peer directly into the quivering pulse of his soul.

When at last he faltered to silence, her voice slipped through the air like a whisper drawn from the grave. "Tell me," she began, every syllable cold and deliberate, "of the violence that stains this city. You breathe its air—what sickness festers in its streets, what desperation drives its hand? Is a singular purpose, or a collective? And what is your....our solution? Play heroes to the populace?"

Then, with another slow tilt of her head, she pressed further—her tone deepening, soft yet edged with something vast and terrible. "And what of chaos… beyond your streets, beyond this planet? Tell me, what do you truly know of the maelstrom that coils through the stars? Do you believe it random? Or do you feel, as I do, that there is design within its storm?"

Her words lingered, heavy with quiet gravity, the dark hum of the Force resonating faintly in her wake. She leaned in closer, her shadow merging with his, and her final inquiry came as both challenge and revelation. "If chaos breathes purpose, then tell me—what function do you think it serves? What role does it play in the grand decay of all things? Is it destruction… or the birth that follows it?" Her silence afterward was absolute. The room seemed to darken, as though the question itself had drawn the warmth from the air, leaving only her gaze—crimson, knowing, and cold as the void.

​

Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • Basic Lightsaber​
  • 
    
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
  • 
    
• Accessories​

 

[Sera Inkari]

Mis post

 

[Mr Black]

She pressed, but this first question was easy.
"Heroes," Black laughed genuinely. "Heroes and idealism are half the problem." He leaned back, fingers tapping together as if negotiating a thought. "But," he gave a small grin, "they do have their uses. Hope's excellent PR when properly managed."

As her voice deepened into a chasm, evoking something old and terrible, Broca shifted in his seat, Annasun adjusted her posture, more deliberate. Black, meanwhile, kept that same calm precision, fingers pressed together, posture easy, like he was in the middle of a boardroom negotiation. His eyes drifted past her, out through the glass and neon flickering across the rooftops.

"There is always design," he said. "The highest order is our mimicry or acceptance of it."

Darkness moved around them, swallowing the room, leaving only the two of them, and the faint glow of his cybernetics, glowing through the dark. The moment demanded an answer.

What function does it serve?

"I'll show you."

Finally, he revealed what he'd been building toward, the reason the board was meeting, and why her voice might tip the balance if she chose to stand among them.

"While I don't believe in eternal outcomes," he said, tone calm but showing his conviction, "I do believe in systems that can sustain themselves. Stability gives rise to order, not permanent, but persistent. Order shapes chaos, chaos refines order. A cycle that doesn't break it just naturally evolves to restore itself."

The holographic display came to life on his tabled briefcase again, Echelon Prime projected into being. A secret no longer. For many years, the company had buried it deep, and he had inherited the responsibility to keep it hidden. But no construct this vast could stay buried forever, not with fourteen megacorps, every syndicate, the Hutts, and the Exchange all doing their best. They had done a remarkable job… till now.

"A blueprint," he said, almost proud. "Not every world should, or could, become this. But this is what's possible when a world is designed from the start to be recursive: order from chaos, chaos from order. Every function feeding the next, a living feedback loop."

He turned his gaze back to her, faint trace of his smile forming. Leaving the question unasked. When the pattern itself is life, who are the heroes liberating? Who is being suppressed The architecture? The pulse of life?

Darth Keres

 

[Darth Keres]

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[]

Tag: Mr Black


Darth Keres sat within this sanctuary of commerce as though she were its unspoken sovereign, a dark figure haloed in the low violet luminescence of the holographic projector before her. The holographic blueprint rose from the desk in trembling layers of spectral geometry—lines of emerald, crimson, and shadowy indigo weaving in precise, impossible configurations. Its glow kissed her dark cheekbones, tracing the contours of her face with cold fire.

Her long fingers moved with deliberate grace, passing through the intangible lines of light. Each motion caused the design to ripple, to evolve—as though alive and aware of her attention. The projection whispered softly in binary tongues, its encoded symphony both mechanical and strangely mournful.

Darth Keres’s gaze was fixed and unblinking. To her, this was not merely a plan of circuits or steel—it was a vision of dominion, an altar of intellect and will. In those glimmering blue lines, she saw the skeletons of future empires, the architecture of obedience, and the shimmering promise of silence wrought into matter. Each node, each branching thread, became a seed of possibility: new conduits of control, new harmonies of power shaped by mortal hands alone.

A ghost of a smile played upon her lips. "Beautiful," she murmured, her voice low and silken, heavy with the gravity of realization. "This world of darkened light and code could be made to sing."

Darth Keres stood up, gracefully repositioning near the tall window, the light of distant storms painting her in fractured silver and violet. Her eyes lingered upon the void beyond. “It takes so little,” she murmured, her voice low and distant—like a hymn uttered to the abyss. “From one world… one seed of will… the shape of the galaxy may be rewritten. Empires bleed, orders crumble, and the stars themselves bow to a single thought made real.”

She turned slightly, the faintest shadow of a smile curving her lips. “Power need not roar to be felt. Sometimes,” she whispered, “it begins with silence upon a single planet.”

​

Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • Basic Lightsaber​
  • 
    
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
  • 
    
• Accessories​

 

[Mr Black]

Takes so little. His smile grew; Darth Keres was correct. The arc of storms, lightning crackling like flashes of insight outside, this was her philosophy.

"Yes," he said quietly, "and from this template, we can change any planet—and the best part? They'll thank us for it." His tone wasn't gloating; it was certain, like an engineer watching his designs come to life. "Gradual, ongoing, and integrated. Chaos balanced, refined, and then quietly becoming indispensable."

Black gestured slightly toward the holographic map, the faint glow reflecting in his eyes as it cycled more well known worlds. "A desert blueprinted this way, an ocean world, the temperaments of their people, each part reliant on the other, synchronized in perfect order. Controlled, but without a word. Just... adjustment."

He glanced back toward her, expression unreadable, calm enough to make it clear: he was never intimidated by the size of a task. "Silent governance," he repeated, almost as if savoring the symmetry of the new phrase. He let himself imagine it: A colony devoted to silence, a living monument to her philosophy. Where stillness ruled and speech became unnecessary. He knew a few Echani and Chiss who would understand the appeal in that. For Another day.

A comm buzzed. "Mr. Black, the board is arriving."

His fingers pressed together again, the smile tightening sharply. The time for ideas was ending, the central question upon them. "Of course they are," he murmured, glancing once outward as she did. "Timing, as ever, impeccable." Like the outside, he prepared himself for the inside storm.

The greater Apex Holdings' board was an eclectic group, brought together over years of ambition, competition, and bitter compromise. They lacked the direction of the Big Fourteen, the clean effective machinery of Echelon's corporate compact, but what they lacked in unity, they made up for in ambition and assets.

"Will you help me now to steer them," he asked, tone lowered but never pleading, "when it counts?"

Outside, he could already hear the murmur of their approach: executives of the multi-armed galactic corporation, power brokers, and predators posing as people. Soon the obsidian table would fill with silhouettes, each haloed by a dim blue light, every member armed with ego or agenda.

He rose as the footsteps drew closer, adjusting his cufflinks again, ritually preparing for a performance. "The Board of Eleven," he said, glancing to her with that hint of a smile again, "or Twelve, if you decide to stay and make the room interesting." Miniminal metaphorical bloodshed, repeated in his mind. Annasun raised from her seat, and the HRD's resumed a ready stance.

The Apex Board (All NPCs except Glade free to use, can assume entry.)

Spoiler

1) Blackline Dynamics' cyberneticist, with more technology than sense.
2) Hynators Illusive Speaker, cloaked and eyes covered in a visor.
3) A smart hotelier from the Transgalactic
4) An eager and colorful Rodian weapon Technician from Fire For Effect,
5) A blue female Twi'lek dressed cleanly, likely an assassin representing the Tann | Nima family interests.
6) A smiling female Zeltron, the GNN news group corporate executive, charismatic and friendly.
7) Silverway Medical's Chief Scientist, quiet and reserved.
8) A Galtech, Nayus Senior Engineer, pragmatically rational but competitive.
9) A Uos Syndicate member, belligerent as always,
10 ) A bright-faced Kiffar, Natoline Kerrigan ( Glade ), tuning in, represented by a purple holoprojection.
11) Mr Black, representing Apex Industrial
12) A free chair for Darth Keres at her end of the table.

Darth Keres

 

[Darth Keres]

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[]

Tag: Mr Black

Darth Keres brooded upon the divine prerogative he had dared to touch. To others, he spoke in riddles—half confessions, half blasphemies—murmuring that "creation is a wound through apologies make." Philosophies born from pros and cons. Carved Smiles.

"Tell me, Mr. Black," she murmured, the faintest curve of mockery touching her lips, "do you wish to be a god… or merely an emperor of lesser wills?"

The question hung between them like a guillotine's blade, gleaming with promise and threat alike. "The world you create will not remember you as a man, Mr. Black. Not when you drink from the cup of history, and spit purgatory. Your ideals, bold and succulent, come and go— fleeting. Yet, you seek a different proposition. Entertaining."

"Understand the terms, mortal," she said, her tone not questioning but declaring. "Our bond will not be one of shared ideals nor of equal standing. You shall borrow my loyalty, my word — my reach, my strength — but every breath of it comes beneath my gaze. Should you falter, you crumble alone...and I shall find a more favorable suitor. For now, we are in pact."

​

Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • Basic Lightsaber​
  • 
    
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
  • 
    
• Accessories​

 

[Mr Black]

She spoke of failure, and he let the words hang, a half-smile across his face, but no comeback about diamonds made from pressure. A silent agreement with her words? Or a deliberate gesture given in respect to her tradition? Either way, the question of his own view of himself remained unanswered, deliberately so.

In came the board, eleven, each with their own small orbit of ambitions, their armed escorts forced to wait outside.

Eyes like vibroknives cut into the room: the Tann and Goros cartel representatives looked ready to kill each other before the meeting began; the Uos delegate glared sharply at Glade's holographic smile; in the corporate bloc, Nayus Systems and Blackline Dynamics, exchanged polite murmurs that sounded like casual conversation but carried the hints of espionage, and you never could trust a news reporter. A nest of vipers in smartly tailored suits, calculating profit margins and opportunities for betrayal.

"Let's get to it, Black. I have an appointment at Ever-Lux." Blackline's cyberneticist checked his chrono, his tone carrying the irritation of someone unaccustomed to waiting.
"Is our guest joining us?" asked the hotelier, out of routine habit, not curiosity.

Black held up a hand, and the room fell silent. "Patience," he said lightly, "they prefer silence to be the introduction and... answer" His grin was preparation, not arrogance exactly, but a man who knew how to redirect attention for the right moment. Allowing Darth Keres to pick her moment or arrange one for her. With a tap, the table console came to life, revealing Denon's skyline in motion overlaid with Echelons. Like-for-like images put side by side.

"We know the Republic is changing Denon," he began, his tone cold and pragmatic. "Progress, they call it. Reform and Regulation." His smile sharpened. "In other words, limits."

"But still profitable," murmured the Transgalactic representative, earning nods from those with Republic contracts to protect.
"What about Nal Hutta?" rasped Goros's Rodian, leaning forward. "Black Sun's been choking our weapon shipments, taxing us to hell!"
The Transgalactic rep arched his brow. "You're surprised criminals act like criminals?"
Tann's Twi'lek assassin gave a thin smile , her lekku twitching. "You might have paid for better criminals."

Black chuckled once briefly. He leaned back in his chair, tenting his hands again. "We are not here to argue planetary charity. Denon's old news, and the Cartel territory is underwater. The opportunity is Echelon, a system built to move where power evolves freely, not where it's being domesticated." His eyes traced across the table, a slow, deliberate look that dared to challenge without hostility. "Think of it as... diversification. You might call it survival but I call it opportunity."

He tapped the console again, and a holographic ripple moved across the table, outlining their zones of interest. "Our guest," his voice lowered, "is an expert in transitions. Silent ones. Reshaping things before anyone realizes they've changed." A ripple of unease. Respect and curiosity for her presence.

From the far end, Nayus's chief engineer leaned forward, one of the few who sounded curious rather than threatened.
"Tell me, Balen," he used his first name, his voice measured, "what exactly do we engineer when the raw material is power itself? And how do you keep from being remade by it in return?"

Black turned toward Darth Keres, the opportune time for her influence, manipulation, and direction.

Darth Keres