Private Shadowcall || Aren

[Jonah]

DENON​

Rain slicked the neon-lit streets of Denon, pooling in gutters that reflected a skyline choked by towers and electric haze. Speeders howled overhead like angry spirits, their lights streaking between buildings that hadn’t seen natural sunlight in years. This wasn’t Coruscant. This was Denon. Colder. Louder. Meaner.

Jonah liked it already.

He stepped through the rusted arch of a half-collapsed chapel, its weathered sign now bearing a different name in flickering, red-blue text: HOLY GROUND. Once a place of faith, now a shrine to drink, data, and deniability.

Inside, the bar throbbed with low synth beats and bad intentions. The lighting was dim, save for the rows of holoscreens above the shelves and the occasional spark of a cyberdeck being jacked into a port under the tables. This wasn’t a place for the innocent, or the analog.

He moved through the haze like a shadow with weight, armored plates catching the light just enough to remind anyone watching that he wasn’t prey. Jonah didn’t need to ask where to sit. He picked the seat with the best view of the door and the back wall, dropped into the cracked leather, and ordered something that burned on the way down.

His helmet sat beside him. So did his datapad.

It looked innocuous at first glance. Standard military model. But anyone in this place worth their cybernetics would notice the spike in signal traffic the moment he laid it on the table. There were firewalls upon firewalls. But nestled beneath them, like bait wrapped in barbed wire, was a bank account loaded with credits. Just sitting there. Waiting to be touched.

And he wanted them to touch it.

The trap wasn't meant to stop them. It was meant to map them. Every attempt would tell him something: location, skillset, creativity. If they broke through, they’d find more than creds. They’d find an invitation.

Jonah took a sip of his drink, exhaled through his nose, and waited. His eyes drifted toward a nearby table where a woman’s fingers moved faster than the beat, typing commands into a portable rig. Another booth held two men whispering over a shared terminal, trying to look inconspicuous. Amateurs.

But someone out there would bite.

And when they did, he’d know exactly who was worth the credits, and who might be worthy of something far more dangerous than slicing contracts.

The Nite Owls were silent. But in the new wars to come, silence wouldn’t be enough.

Jonah leaned back in his chair, armored fingers tapping once on the datapad’s casing.
Let the games begin.

Tag: Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Running a towel through her hair as she walked out of the bathroom, and a flashing light on her datapad. Messages weren't uncommon, but this one seemed odd to her. Wrapping the towel around her neck, Aren sat down at her work table and opened the message.

"A new target has been spotted. We believe your expertise is ideally suited for this effort. Referral bonus is ours as usual."

That was all the message said, and she wrinkled her forehead as she looked at the information that was provided. Red flags went off for her, but this challenge was quite tempting.

A cup of coffee was set down next to her elbow, and she couldn't help but look up at her companion droid, EL, and thanked her for the drink. Glancing at the assignment, the amount involved, and the potential work it was going to be, she decided to accept it.

This was not going to be some simple and easy hack. However, she felt the credits were worth it. In reality, with these kinds of accounts left open to this, money was not an issue for her. A large slush fund would be nice, though. Pulling out the sensitive tools she needed to use, she shut out the room around her and got to work.

For a while, the only thing she was aware of was the caf next to her and the datapad in front of her. Did she get it on her first try? No, that would be too easy. Sticking the tip of her tongue out, she had it there for several tense moments as her latest attempt processed.

Brown eyes narrowed as the numbers flashed on her screen with something additional. A message, an invitation. To the person who succeeded in cracking the code, shadowing in, and taking what was offered. Her success was known and lauded. Whoever was waiting for this was not a novice, and that was clear to Aren right away. Who was she to turn this proposition down?

Grabbing her bag, the one she took everywhere, she wasn't looking forward to taking another shower, but this was worth it. Instead of seizing the day, it was night, and Aren stepped into the dimly lit techno cantina. Brushing off the raindrops, her hair was close to her skull, and she looked for her target. To the person who set the challenge and message.

Jonah

 

[Jonah]

He felt her before he saw her.

The cantina didn’t go quiet, places like this never did, but there was a subtle shift in rhythm when she walked in. A stutter in the synth beat, the flicker of eyes from the regulars, a ripple that told Jonah the game had found its winner.

He raised a hand, fingers clad in dark beskar, drawing attention to the back booth without fanfare. Just a signal. An acknowledgment. The one she’d been looking for. A second later, he motioned to a passing service droid.

“One more glass,” he said, voice low but firm. “And a bottle of ti’haar.”

The droid gave a polite chirp and zipped off. Jonah’s eyes never left Aren.

She wasn’t what most would expect. That was the point. No neon trench coat, no mirrored eyes or flashy implants. Just focus. Precision. Skill. She moved with the confidence of someone who knew the code better than the people who wrote it.

By the time she crossed the room, he was already leaning back, one arm resting on the booth’s edge, helm still on the table beside him.

“Well done,” he said simply, the words cutting clean through the hum of the bar. “Most don’t even get past the first firewall. You made it all the way through.”

He gestured to the seat across from him.

“No details out loud,” he added, voice dropping just enough to shift into private territory. “But sit. Drink. Then we talk.”

The ti’haar was already on its way. The real invitation was only just beginning.

Tag: Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

She was a new face to this particular cantina, but these people were her kind and gave her nods as she entered. Aren moved with the confidence of a woman familiar with the territory and the ground they walked on. Technology had been a part of her life since she was adopted, and she carried that knowledge in her soul. Her eyes caught the silent motion, and she pushed her wet hair into place as best she could and accepted the offer.

When she reached him, the hum inside the cantina had returned to normal, and now it was just the two of them. Ears might be listening and understood his request, and did not question it. They would share a drink, and she felt her future was going to begin.

She sat back and waited for the te'haar to arrive before saying anything. His tone and volume were meant just for her, and she nodded. He might notice there was a slight curve to her mouth as she smiled just a touch.

She had indeed noticed the helmet on the table and wondered to herself what it might mean. One of the last jobs she had taken was from a woman with the same type of armor. Like her, this man wasn't after her head, and she didn't have a bounty on it. Lucky her. Now she wondered whose attention she had. Time would tell, and the drink arrived.

Jonah

 

[Jonah]

The ti’haar arrived with a soft clink, glass meeting table, bottle settling in place like a promise.

Jonah poured without asking, filling her glass first, then his own. The pale liquid caught the light, sharp and clean. He raised his glass halfway, not quite a toast, but something close.

“To new work,” he said.

He took a sip, letting the warmth settle before he spoke again.

“There’s a gap in my network,” Jonah began, voice low and even, meant only for her. “One I’ve been looking to fill for some time. I need someone sharp. Quiet. Knows their way through a firewall or a fragstorm and doesn’t lose their head in either.”

He set the glass down gently.

“It’s not a job. Not really. It’s a lane. A rhythm. Consistent work for a client who doesn’t breathe down your neck, doesn’t micromanage. All I ask is loyalty. When you’re called, you show. You handle the task. You get paid fair and you stay under an umbrella that keeps the bigger hammers from falling on your head.”

His eyes held hers.

“But before I make the offer real, I need to know something.”

He leaned forward, just slightly.

“Any ties? Loose ends? People who’d take issue with you getting steady work under a new banner?”

A pause.

“Old enemies, current allegiances...anything that might turn this from business into trouble. I don’t deal in drama. Just the job.”

Jonah leaned back again, fingers drumming once on the table.

“No pressure if it’s not your kind of deal. But if it is... you’ll find the water’s warm.”

Tag: Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Lifting her glass when it was poured for her, she halted when he did and then sipped it with him. It was a smooth burn, and she handled it well. His voice purred and had all of her attention. Lifting an eyebrow at his fragstorm comment, she remained silent. Her interest was piqued when he mentioned his network. This conversation was starting to sound quite profitable.

He seemed to be offering her a type of stability she lacked. Usually, she could cover her tracks easily enough and leave little to no trace behind. She would continue to do that, but now maybe she could take on more lucrative tasks.

She had kept her hold on her drink and took a little more of that as their eyes held onto each other. Setting it down, she let it go and leaned back and listened to his proposal. Once that was finished, he needed to know if she had any allegiances that would have any issue with her taking a position elsewhere, in addition to any enemies.

Letting out a breath through her nose and quirking her mouth, she shook her head side to side.

"Absolutely not. No enemies, no friends, and no alliances to any government. Who is offering this?"

No names had been shared, but it happened rarely in this business. Aren was fine with these arrangements for now, but did want to know who would be cutting her paycheck.

Jonah