Spy Games [Ministry of Secrets]

[Paragon of Virtue]

It was another rainy day on Maramere. Many of the Confederacy had been invited that day to a gathering of sorts. Many of them belonged to the Viceroyalty, the same pompous group of people that most of the time did nothing to contribute to the Confederacy, which was exactly why swelling the attendants' list with them worked so well. For as the Viceroys gathered and were offered the most expensive delights of food and drink, it was another small group that had been invited, to whom the actual attention of the party planners would go to.

Of course, [member="Veena Reshma"] and [member="Rhaina Tira"] did not know the other was exactly as the other was. The Ministry of Secrets, true to its name, was founded, and moved, on secrets. Only a handful of people had the clearance to know, and both women worked hard within their position, contacting each other as per need through various proxies and secret networks that did their job in keeping each concealed from the other. And it was through these networks that they had set the evening up.

The members of the Ministry of Secrets – all their Ravens, Crows, and Rooks – had been invited. Each of them had a different cover for what they did. Some masqueraded as Knights Obsidian, others as members of the Confederate Defense Forces, and some simply collected meager unemployment at the end of every month. It was their choice, so long as they did not reveal who they were to any who were below their rank or actually belonged to a different division.

And their little birds… They had several missions. Their job, was to perfectly mingle and schmooze with the Viceroyals. As the night progressed, they would be learning of little things they were meant to do.

And beneath the ballroom floor, was a bomb. It was a massive construct, put together by an unknowing bird who did not know it would be used that night, and when it went off, there would be casualties. Yes. Not even the Viceroyals were spared from such games. It would be the ultimate test – to see how the birds faded in such situations. For whereas the Confederacy might sometimes forgive and sometimes forget – the rest of the Galaxy did not.

Enjoy the party!

​

OOC Note: Begin the mingle! Mini-missions will be given throughout the thread, as well as hints at what is lurking beneath!

Spoiler: Ministry of Secrets Tag List

[member="Veena Reshma"]
[member="Rhaina Tira"]
[member="Alexander Kingston"]
[member="Ciri Jade"]
[member="Ingrid L'lerim"]
[member="Azura"]
[member="Kelsie Sylvan"]
[member="Scherezade deWinter"]
[member="Shakti Sweet"]
[member="Celessa"]
[member="Mr. Antilles"]
[member="Oz Verde"]
[member="Damien Wynter"]
[member="Ephraim"]
[member="Razelle Breuner"]
[member="Holt"]
[member="Nekana Quane"]
[member="Jorik Valnora"]
[member="Erik Ryder"]
[member="Visanj T'shkali"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: By the buffet
Wearing: Dress | Pathfinder Boots
Wielding: 2 Czerka knives [concealed] | 1 Nastirci Combat Knives [concealed]
Tags: Feel free to join!

Food. Food was nice. Scherezade was hungry. She'd received the invitation to the party some time ago, the phrasing on it leaving no room to doubt that her attendance was a matter of obligation and expectation rather than on a volunteer basis. Not that it mattered; with her attempts to be everywhere all the time, she would have shown up to this one either way.

But she did not exactly understand why. After all, it appeared to be one of those parties for the Viceroyals. She recognized a few bloated faces, knew well enough that they mostly did neither good nor harm at where they served, and couldn't help but wonder why she'd been summoned for anything other than guard duty at a place like this.

And, since she'd yet to see anyone she recognized that was not a pompous Viceroyal, she was mostly alone. Skirting over to where the food was in a recycled dress (which attentive onlookers would've noticed she'd worn on other parties… Multiple times), Scherezade invited herself to enjoy the food that was to be offered, carefully voiding all the dough-filled things with sugar, and sticking mostly to the meats, fish, and cheeses.

She loved meats, fish, and cheeses.

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

Pfft, what are they on about? This party was the real bomb.

That was a lie, Kelsie already hated it. She had no real idea as to why she was here. It wasn't often she got invited to fancy parties -- much less invited by her real name. A CIS event for Viceroyalty, and she of all people got invited. She had been wondering if Valencia had pulled some strings, or perhaps if someone wanted her here... well, someone definitely wanted her here. But why? Sure, she loved to dress up and all, but a night spent mingling with a bunch of stuck-up, oblivious bureaucrats didn't seem all that productive considering she didn't actually have an assignment involving any of them. Still... someone wanted her here. So might as well be here.

A few questions were answered when she spotted a certain Crow chilling at the buffet. Perhaps she wasn't the only MoS character called into action for tonight... again, why? She shrugged it off and approached Scherezade.

"Hey gorgeous, wasn't expecting you to be hanging out around here," she said, sliding up beside her and slightly leaning back over the buffet table. "I like the dress." Her own attire wasn't bad either -- she'd practiced getting ready for these sorts of things. Her makeup was equally fiery, and she held a small, matching red purse in her hand. Good spy seemed to translate easily to looking fabulous at parties. Kelsie certainly tried.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Holt]

If you went up to Holt and asked if he even knew about the Ministry of Secrets, he'd laugh in your face before going back to his drink. Holt rarely laughed, for one, and besides he was a junior engineer in the Ministry of Science. A technician, not a bird. It was surprising how many mindlessly accepted the cover story.

Of course, in truth Holt was far from a lowly employed engineer in the Ministry of Science. While he held no particular grudge against the department, he felt that the lie was somewhat beneath him, especially for a man as well talented as him. But nevertheless, he'd have to grit his teeth and politely give his false credentials to Viceroyals and politicians who would never key the number. It was a small thing to keep his cover, and he did it almost without questioning. Although his pride might be hurt, he was exceptionally gifted at lying no matter how much it chagrined him.

For a galaxy as war-torn and divided as it was, Holt had seen quite a bit of it. The right price, good friends and an even better aim with a pistol could get a man far. These had been skills that had come naturally for Holt ever since he was a child on the streets of a planet he was careful to never name. He'd honed and perfected his various skills over the years until they were a blade, razor sharp. He'd had a lot of years since he was a child, yes -- he wasn't afraid to admit his age. All the better, to know the various traps and ambushes that those still green to the environment of espionage and assassination tended to fall into. And although he had seen most of the galaxy, he couldn't help but wonder what it had been like in the ages of old; centuries ago, before the dark times when ost of the galaxy was ruled by a single, unifying government. Whatever it had been; the Old Republic, then the Empire, then the New Republic, it had probably meant safe travel from the core to the Mid Rim.

Now? You'd be lucky to get from Coruscant to Taris alive.

Unfortunately, the galaxy had been carved up by factions, a splinter resulted from the years of darkness the entire galaxy had suffered. Old foundations lasting more than a millennia had been eroded away, and now it seemed that the Galaxy was in a perpetual state of warfare. Very few worlds had not escaped the bloodshed, but that was Holt's purpose, was it not? To help the Confederacy escape the bloodshed.

Maramere reminded Holt of Druckenwell. Rainy and overcast, it cast a dim atmosphere on an otherwise rather jubilant party. Several big names from the Cofederacy Viceroyalty were present, as they always were, and the alcohol was flowing as the music grew louder. Yet the loud bass and laughter were not enough to dissuade Holt from the facts that he saw plain as day; there was a suspicious amount of Crows, Ravens, and even other Rooks for a simple Confederacy party. He'd assumed that he'd been invited here to make possible contacts that Holt could use while in the Rookery, but it seemed that something more sinister was afoot. He'd be amiss if he didn't get to the bottom of it. . .

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: By the buffet
Wearing: Dress | Pathfinder Boots
Wielding: 2 Czerka knives [concealed] | 1 Nastirci Combat Knives [concealed]
Tags: [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Holt"]

Scherezade nearly choked on a cube of cheese when someone was suddenly referring to her. It took her mind a fraction of a second to remember whose voice that was, who it was that was referring to her as gorgeous and not for the first time. The Sithling swallowed her cheese, and gave [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] a beaming smile.

"No feathers on this one that I can give you," she grinned, glowing green eyes now looking the other woman over. Red was a good color; she wished she had a dress dyed that as well, but most of her stuff… Maybe it was time to clear her schedule enough so she could go shopping and have more than the few dresses she continuously recycled for these events. "You look lovely," she said genuinely with a nod, taking another cheese cube.

Her gaze narrowed though, as she realized she was recognizing faces now, faces that were not part of the Viceroyalty. First and foremost was [member="Holt"], the man who had briefed them for a mission that had taken place not too long ago. Immediately, Scherezade looked around, trying to spy (haha, get the pun?) more familiar faces from the Ministry and its missions.

"Anyone tell you why we're here to entertain the Viceroyals?" she asked Kelsie Jaqueline, "It seems like everyone gathered here is either them… Or us." There was no need to explain who the us referred to. The Crow waved over to [member="Holt"], beckoning him to join them. The Blood Hound thought she was smelling something… But maybe the other two would have more ideas.

 

[Ciri Jade]

​

Music of questionable entertaining variety, important patrons, and unanswered questions. Such was the situation in which she found herself. Dressed in the fanciest attire that a bartender might be seen wearing, her hair had been changed to blonde which would look natural in appearance. The Raven's eyes scanned the environment noting each of the Viceroyals and others who had arrived to this party. Being summoned to anything like this raised questions in her mind especially since it involved the Viceroyals. She wasn't one for mingling with the richer clientele but she could manage if it was indeed necessary.

During her survey, she spied a couple familiar faces from within the MoS. Tapping a fellow 'tender upon her shoulder, the Raven leaned in.

"Can you handle things here? I'm goin' to walk the floor, if ya need anything I'll be close by."

Slipping out from behind the bar, Alysia kept to appearances, checking on the Viceroyalty as she passed them. Making her way over to [member="Scherezade deWinter"] and [member="Kelsie Sylvan"]. Even around familiar faces, she kept up the facade, knowing if they were attentive they may indeed recognize who she was.

"Good evening, ladies." She said first, before lowering her tone. "I see I'm not the only one brought here by invitation. An interesting turn of events."

 

[Nyx N1X3]

A Party for Viceroyalty? Nyx had spent a solid ten minutes analyzing the invitation in every way her built in processing was capable trying to uncover some hidden meaning. In the end, it was just a simple invitation. Addressed to her. How peculiar, but she hadn't received anything of the sort before. The opportunity to 'mingle' with Viceroyals was something -- unlike others -- Nyx looked forward to. Then again, the droid did not experience boredom as organics did. She was capable of something similar, but being new to this... field of employment a gathering of politicians had not yet lost its charm.

Down to the millisecond, the dark, feminine figure of the droid strode into the room where all had gathered. Punctuality was an art form even if most organics did not fully appreciate it.

Nyx slowly wandered the crowds processing multiple audio streams from groups large and small she passed by. Five were discussing passage of local legislation, three lamented an increase in piracy, two sought to undermine their opposition, and one couple was discussing the particular arts they would do in seclusion the moment they slipped away. Potentially in a nearby room of this very facility. All information was carefully categorized with facial recognition attached for future reference as needed. Even the copulatively contemplative couple.

"Excuse me," a voice called out from beside Nyx as she passed. The droid paused and turned her cranial unit toward the source. It caused the humanoid to draw back ever so slightly from the glow of Nyx's eyes. "I could use a refill."

The glass was empty. "I am not a member of the staff. A moment," Nyx replied before she scanned the crowd. A few seconds passed when she made contact with a nearby serving droid. Connection established, Nyx's attention turned back to the Viceroy that had observed the silent and brief exchange, "They will be here shortly to assist you, Viceroy."

"Oh, yes, of course," his words trailed off unexpectedly distracted by something other than drink. "If you are not part of the staff, would you mind if I inquired as to your purpose here?"

"I believe I was invited as part of a squadron that aided in protecting a valuable shipment from organized crime," Nyx replied without hesitation. "Unfortunately, it seems which Viceroy in particular sought to extend this opportunity also shares a sense of humor and opted not to make themselves known on the invitation. I will, however, find whatever clues they have left to locate them. I would not wish to disappoint their expectations of our capabilities."

That was not the story the Viceroy before her expected to hear. Nevertheless, aside from the game the droid was being forced to play, hiring mercenaries to protect shipments from pirates or gangs was far from unusual. Though there was a healthy amount of curiosity about this valuable cargo that warranted inviting the protective party to a function such as this one. "That must have been some cargo," he said. A soft laugh followed as if jovially making conversation.

Nyx's gaze never wavered from the humanoid. Visual indicators suggested it was a fake laugh. The way the skin was lifted and the lack of movement around the eyes. "You may be correct, however they did not share the particulars. The fewer that are aware of a ship's manifest, the less chance it falls into unwanted parties' hands."

A less enthused chuckle followed the droid's response. "Yes, well. Prudent of them anyway."

At that moment a serving droid appeared and asked if it could take the Viceroy's order. Nyx nodded slightly to the man before she resumed prowling through the assembled masses.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Working with the Sith was often like this. They liked to play games with people. Receiving obscure orders from higher up the chain of command wasn't uncommon, of course. The Ministry was very much "let not the right hand know" about everything, which meant that occasionally you'd get some excessively mysterious smokescreen thrown in your face and you'd have to make the best of it. Just getting a summons to a random party by her MoS-registered pseudonym wouldn't have been enough to make Raz think it was the Sith.

Just how many birds were in attendance, on the other hand, was exactly enough. This smacked of a Sith power play. Showing who "really controlled" the agency and all that rot. She'd been through it before, plenty of times. She'd suspected it earlier, but now she was certain that "the Minister" was some self-superior forcie twat. Everything in the galaxy was run by emotional, childish space wizards, so why would the MoS be special? It wasn't relevant to the evening, of course. Just something she'd need to keep in mind for the future.

Across the room and well away from anyone who might recognize her, "Jane Zambrano" smiled and nodded, as if she was paying attention to what the pudgy bespoke jackass who'd been blathering at her for a good ten minutes had been saying. Saljic ek-Mora, luxury furniture tycoon. The import business had boomed with the sudden expansion of Confederate territory, which meant this overweight prat had more money to throw around than he knew what to do with. Of course he'd wind up with an invitation to the new hotness; all he had to do was buy his way in. "-but these new regulations have made it almost impossible to turn a profit. Surely the corporate council would never allow such stifling legislation to pass. I expect this was the direct intervention of-"

Nodding quickly, Jane crossed her arms. "Geonosis. Absolutely," she replied simply, tugging the sleeves of her jacket up a bit to check her watch. As she was trying to be a professional - her cover story was, as always, a trade broker - she'd elected for smart over elegant. Heels she could kick off if she needed to run. Plenty of jacket to conceal a firearm, long pants to hide a garter knife. "From what I hear it's been absolute hell trying to get anything past customs now. Makes things an absolute trial to reach a settlement when both sides are coming to the table at a loss."

Some jargon was never outdated. On command from her watch, Jane's datapad beeped, and after a tap or two she sighed and looked back up at ek-Mora. "Sorry, Saljic. I've got to take this call. Got an agent who was supposed to be closing out sick with some crazy off-world virus. If I don't pick up the slack, we lose twelve million in commission, and that won't look great on my next quarterly." Babble babble. Saljic gave her a nod of understanding and tipped his drink, and Jane walked off, heels clicking on the ballroom floor.

The birds were starting to gather. As she approached, Jane tipped her head in a quick nod to them, then turned and tapped her headset comlink, pretending to talk on it instead of to the ladies for a moment. "Gods, I could go for a smoke right about now." Loud enough they could hear, of course. "Any leads yet, ladies? So far all I've got is a bunch of fattened suits and an unconscionable number of birds."

[member="Ciri Jade"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Kelsie Sylvan"]

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

"Thanks hon. I'm missing the armor already." Seriously, her work with the Dauntless had given her that feeling of safety when she was all shelled up. Here, she felt a bit exposed. She might actually have to rely on her own skills more than all the technology she normally had -- and that excited her. Lives might be on the line, mystery might be in the air, but she was ready to have a fun night out.

She had some amount of technology of course -- the Cyber-Eye contacts in her eyes sparkled lightly as she scanned (in a way, quite literally) the room. Familiar faces popped up everywhere, and Kelsie frowned slightly as she realized she might have to share her fun. "We're definitely not here to entertain Viceroyals. Seems like we're gonna be a crowd." She fell silent again, watching as two more Ministry types wandered on over. She let out a small sigh, listening as they made themselves known in awfully subtle ways.

"Stop it with the bird crap, you know I think it's stupid," she muttered to Razelle. "We get it, something's up, and everyone gathering together like this isn't gonna help. We're being tested, I assume, so let's put on a show for whatever higher-up decided to bring the dream team back together." She gave a small grin to the three women. "Razelle with me, we'll look around, I'll get us past whoever while you get into the security servers. Madelena, stay here and gather anyone else who shows up. You..." She frowned slightly at the girl, not quite remembering her name. "Feel free to mingle, or get back to your job, talk to Madelena and coordinate. Eyes on anything suspicious. Comms channel R-6. Let's move." Her red heels clacked against the ballroom floor as she began to head towards the exit.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Ciri Jade"] [member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Veena Reshma]

Location: Observing the buffet
Tags: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Holt"] [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Ciri Jade"] [member="Nyx N1X3"]

"Do keep me well informed of the situation on Falleen, we do not wish to see it develop much further and spill out into the public view Mr viceroyalty, thank you for your time and please do enjoy the ball."

Ms Reshmas smile had a calming effect on people she encountered, but much like the minister of secrets herself, it was just another smokescreen designed to fool people and let their guard down. She enjoyed the level of uncertainty that she generated around others; the fat cat vice-royals often tended to be as subtle as a jackhammer when it came to discussing their worldly activities. More often than not, she didn't have to resort to the more underhanded tactics she employed in her old employee's organisation, a simple cup of wine betrayed many a secret.



She sat down near an unoccupied dinner table, crossing one leg over the other and relaxed. Staring across the occupied ballroom, she took note of all the types of hundreds of people whose pompous and arrogance lingered around the room like a bad odour. Their concerns, their ambitions, their weaknesses. It could be said that the Ministers reach was efficient, a Confederacy citizen couldn't sit down to a meal without each dish being duly noted and recorded by the ministry, down to its preparation and the exact measurement of each ingredient

 

[Holt]

[member="Kelsie Sylvan"] | [member="Scherezade DeWinter"]

Holt was minding himself at the bar, nonchalantly sipping a drink of a rather fine Merenzane Gold. The quality in this part of the Outer Rim could sometimes be questionable, but the brew was fine enough for Holt. To any passerby, he would've seemed engrossed in his drink, but in reality it was quite the opposite; from the rim of his chalice his eyes silently observed his surroundings. The other birds. The Viceroyals, the Politicians, the appraised Military Officials. At such a big party, with one that carried an undertone of suspicion, to stay alive you had to be constantly on your toes. Ready to spring at every step.

That was when Holt saw [member="Scherezade Dewinter"] beckon him over. He knew that one from Ichtor VIII, Holt remembered as he recalled his brief memory of the young Crow. Holt saw the motion but made no immediate movement; to do so would give away his cover, and potentially Scherezade's, if she had one. Instead, he got up and began walking in the other direction, making his away around the room. A handshake with the Viceroyal of Bassadro, a brief conversation with the Undersecretary from the Ministry of Influence. It wasn't until he'd made an inconspicuous circle around the room did he arrive to Scherezade's position, noticing the other woman by her; someone he did not yet know.

Holt bowed low to the two women, putting a deep Gaulasi accent in his voice. "My ladies, it is an honor to meet you. I am Anton Micassa, Junior Engineer in the Ministry of Science," Holt said in the signature Gaualsi slur as he extended his hand forward. With his eyes, he silently told Scherezade to play along with it, wondering what was going on.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Twitch.

Whoever the hell had sent her real name to the entirety of the Ministry was getting two bolts in either thigh and a care package comprised of assorted fruits, a lint brush, and their next-of-kin's left foot. Razelle was not amused at the sheer disrespect this allegedly professional institution seemed to have for operational security, and she hadn't been for quite some time. Every time she heard someone whose name was not Scherezade deWinter call her "Razelle," she had to stop herself from reverse-engineering an ion screamer to hook up to the entire, chaotic mess of a "ministry's" prime server network to cover for her as she forged authentication to call in firebombing raids on every safehouse she was privy to.

It wasn't difficult to fight that urge, of course. Scherezade was invested in these clowns. That meant Raz had to make it work. They'd need a battalion's worth of elbow grease and a vat of industrial-grade bleach to get the caked-on incompetence off, but hey. That was her job. And right now, her job was - once again - to babysit "Hawk." A decent agent, and far less frustrating than the rest of these whining, neon-painted murder-skanks. She still needed a ton of work to meet Raz's standards for a field agent, but then, Razelle had slowly come to understand that maybe, just maybe the ISB standards from seven hundred years ago were a bit strict for a galaxy full of idiots who couldn't spot an informant with both eyes and an IFF-tagged holo in three vision spectrums.

Deep breath. Being the dolls in a Sith dollhouse always left her on-edge. None of these hapless twats deserved this much venom. Focus on the objective. Work with your partner.

Since there was no op center for this mission game, there was no need for code names, and there were no assigned subgroups. Hawk had chosen Raz specifically. That meant that, at some level, she was of greater interest to the single most promising agent Raz had seen in the Ministry up to this point. So...if nothing else, at least she'd made a good first impression. The blonde tapped her comlink headset a couple of times to set the channel, which could easily be confused for hanging up.

As she walked off with the least murderous of the gingers, Razelle fixed her sleeves and tightened the bun she had her hair up in. "I'm not exactly packing slicing tools. Nick some silverware and I can make due." Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

[member="Holt"] | [member="Veena Reshma"] | [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] | [member="Nyx N1X3"] | [member="Ciri Jade"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Nyx N1X3]

The droid's optical units scanned the room as she casually strolled through the organics occupying it. People, yes, she'd amassed quite a collection of faces and even associated them with a number of personnel records. It was the room, however, she focused on for a moment. How someone could enter. How they could leave. Where you would stash something. Where the controls for the lights were. Movements of the attending staff. Air currents that could carry a virus or gaseous chemical. Height of the ceiling, and the dangerous posed by falling fixtures. Statues, coats of armor, paintings, table placement...

A three-dimensional simulation of the room stretched out in Nyx's mind devoid of occupants. It could be useful. Perhaps she should map the rest of the facility, she thought.

In no hurry, Nyx began to make her way through the crowd once more toward the door.

So far Nyx was no closer to identifying the reason for her attending such a gathering. After all, she was a Rook intended to facilitate business with external entities. While it was possible criminal elements might end up as Viceroyalty within the CIS that seemed less beneficial than acquiring external relations. Avenues of acquiring new or rare resources. Sources of additional personnel or ships. Quelling some activity while stoking others. So there had to be something here requiring her services, and for that the droid would survey the place while keeping all sensors fully operational.

Tags: [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] | [member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: By the buffet
Wearing: Dress | Pathfinder Boots
Wielding: 2 Czerka knives [concealed] | 1 Nastirci Combat Knives [concealed]
Tags: [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Holt"] [member="Ciri Jade"] [member="Veena Reshma"] [member="Nyx N1X3"]

Scherezade smiled warmly as [member="Ciri Jade"] approached them. "A very interesting one," she nodded in agreement as she glanced around the room once more, noting even more familiar faces this time around, "it's almost like they're trying to bring back all of us who met on Manda. And perhaps a few others as well."

Their group next approached by [member="Razelle Breuner"], Scherezade kept her excitement contained as her she was close enough to her godmother to hug the woman, though she did not. There were no leads yet that any of them knew of, not that she'd heard of anyway. But then when 'Jaqueline' put claim to her, using Raz's real name, the Crow frowned, sending a silent look to the only non-sibling family she currently had in her life. She noted the deep breaths, and gave herself a mental reminder to remind Jaqueline later about real names. And maybe pommel her a little for even knowing Raz's name.

"You must have confused me with someone else," she said politely though. They had only met once. It wasn't out of the question for someone to not properly remember someone they'd actually done things with only once, "the name is Darling. Feyre Darling."

Looking at [member="Holt"], Scherezade grinned. She knew that was not his name, just as he knew Feyre Darling was not hers. They had worked together previously, when they had attempted to take down a former First Order moff. "What a pleasure it is to have representatives of the Ministry of Science here," she said with half a smile. If his cover were to break, it would not be because of her.

That would also let the others know of the name she chose during moments like this, though if Scherezade could make any educated guess, at least half of them knew her true name just because of how she peacocked her presence and appearance around almost every Confederate battle or party to ever be created. But she didn't care too much; as long as they kept it to themselves or became confused. Besides, it wasn't like her genuine paperwork would clear too much up anyway.

As the rest of the party split, Scherezade grumped and grabbed a seat, sipping on a tall champagne glass that was filled with water and ice. She hoped one of them would find something, anything, to kill this boredom for her.

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

"Whatever. You know my name." Kelsie let out a small sigh. So she brute forced her way through Ministry and HoloNet info, so what? She was basically forcing trust from the agents around her. And it hadn't been too difficult to pull enough strings to get a full guest list -- her Cyber-eye contacts were passively running facial recognition to try and find anyone out of place, making her bird friends stick out like sore thumbs among the Viceroyalty. Not that Kelsie was much better, but she thought of herself as a well-manicured thumb instead. Still different.

The young woman led her partner on an erratic route around the ballroom, haphazardly slipping between groups and grabbing appetizers off trays as needed by no one in particular. Of course it was... mostly calculated, as eventually she moved to the ballroom's side exit. It led to a simple T-intersection, with signs translated into a variety of alien languages. She turned left, following the sign that lead to the washrooms.

"...all those pockets, and you didn't bring anything useful." Kelsie shook her head, then held up her little handbag and shaking it a little. "I dunno about you but I don't get invited to Viceroy shindigs often, so I decided to come prepared," she said, finally opening it up and poking around. Blaster, extra knife, miniature gas bomb, rebreather, anti-security blades, a few other miscellaneous items... she'll ask what the other woman might need in a moment.

Kelsie slipped into the washroom -- it was conveniently empty, but she still headed to the far end, where the more alien restroom area was. They were less likely to be disturbed here, even with so many races comprising the Confederacy. Humans had the weakest bladders in Kelsie's experience. She then turned to her companion and spoke in a hushed tone. "You probably won't need them, but I've got some stuff if you really need tools. But... I was planning to just get into the main security office of this place. Break in, sneak in, whatever, it won't really matter after we get this over with. You'll have access to the computer. I'll keep an eye on the ballroom and everywhere else, you check the logs and recordings of the past few days to see if there's anything notable or suspicious that we can check for. That work?"

[member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Nyx N1X3"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Ooh. Aah. She was in the Batman stage of her development. 'Bring everything, you're never sure when you'll need it.' It was certainly better than the 'All I need's a blaster and a knife' stage, of course, but when one was attempting to be sneaky, it helped to not overstock on shiny and/or illegal baubles. This was less a mistake to be corrected and more an active decision made by a field agent: Hawk wanted to bring a kitchen sink, which meant she was willing to deal with the consequences.

Didn't mean Raz couldn't jab, though. "I'm interested how you managed to get all of that past security without labeling yourself a risk and thus being compromised as an asset," she replied without expression, raising one eyebrow. She was hardly going to complain for having professional-grade tool access, but considering the whole thing was probably tagged and being watched with great interest by some otherwise-bored rent-a-cop a few rooms down, it was a mixed blessing.

From her position, the blonde could pick out a few choice little goodies. "Keep your weapons. If this goes loud, we've failed regardless. Got a spike in there?" It'd make it a little faster, but Razelle could work without it. Modern civilian server security was pretty similar to what it'd always been. The military trickle-down was far slower than opinionated Holonet forum posters liked to claim - Raz had only had to reevaluate her procedures after 700 years, not replace them.

Raising her chin slightly towards the door, she directed her attention outside. "Saw the droid out there. It seemed pretty aimless, but you can never tell what the hell they're up to. Might be a good idea to interface with it, see what it's tasked for." As she spoke, Razelle started to walk through, checking the stalls to make sure there weren't any... well, bugging a restroom was a severe breach of civil code no matter the jurisdiction, but that never seemed to stop anyone. Unfortunately, if it was masked, there wasn't much she could do without a scrambler, and anyone breaking out their chronometer this early had either run afoul of something truly unexpected or was utterly incompetent.

[member="Kelsie Sylvan"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Nyx N1X3"] | [member="Holt"] | [member="Ciri Jade"]

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

Kelsie really did like her things. It paid to be prepared; as in, she could pay off the equipment debt it seemed her companion was in. There was always the right tool for the job, and if you had every tool, there was nothing you couldn't accomplish.

"Hey, the guard was a guy, he didn't know what my makeup looked like." She grinned. For now she'd refrain from telling Razelle all about her cool secret reflec compartment in her handbag that she'd filled with shinies. There were few people who she'd even consider spilling a few of her secrets to -- definitely not some security guard -- and the other bird was becoming one of them. Trust, whether forced or natural, was budding. And Kelsie was sure that the Albatross could figure out her little trick anyways.

Of course she had whatever was needed. It took a moment for Kelsie to sort through, but soon enough she produced an anti-security blade, a small holodevice, and everything else her companion might need for slicing. Ideally they wouldn't need to do it from the bathroom, but there was never really ideal circumstances when it came to this line of work. The young woman listened to Razelle as she helped check the stalls. No poopers; it seemed that most of the Viceroyalty were either using their time productively or just hadn't gotten to the food yet. In any case she nodded, muttering something profane about the very concept of droids. As a former Imperial and Force user, she had so many angles from which to dislike the tinny false-life bots. She trusted Razelle's slicing more than her acting skills, so Kelsie moved over to the door and spoke. "Stay here, keep me updated on your finds or if you need anything. I'll go talk to the droid." With that she slipped outside of the washroom once more, heading back to the ballroom.

The Cyber-eye contacts proved yet again to be the most useful thing in her arsenal -- a good set of scanners could do more than a blaster. Kelsie's eyes shone a soft blue for a few moments as she searched for the droid. It didn't take long considering the thing was of a different model than anything Kelsie knew about. Moments later she stumbled into the room, tiredly weaving about the party guests before just happening to run into the droid, intercepting it part way towards the door. She seemed to squint at the metal woman, shifting and swaying like a drunk. "Droid, droid, servant miss, would you please get a martini for me? With lots of olives. Shaken, not stirred, I'm sure you already know. You've taken my order before haven't you?" She lightly placed her hand on the metal creature's shoulder. It wouldn't be this easy, probably...

[member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Nyx N1X3"]

 

[Nyx N1X3]

Nyx stopped -- or was forced to stop -- when a woman drifted back in to the room. The dim, red flow of the droid's optical units locked on the woman that approached. Obviously there was an attempt to appear drunk, and Nyx would credit Kelsie for a sufficient mime of the state of mental and physical being; but with a sharp memory recall and analytics engine there were indicators it was not all it would seem. It would likely be quite difficult or impossible for an organic to notice as much. Though there might be some out there with the eye for it.

A metal hand lifted and offered to help steady the drunken woman by supporting her free hand. The two very nearly had taken on the posture of a dancing couple in that moment. "I am afraid you are mistaken. However, I will be happy to assist you in locating what you seek. Would you care for an escort?" The intonation of her vocalizer never wavered, and neither did its posture. Just another soul in the party that had mistaken a droid as a servant. Why hadn't Nyx summoned an actual servant? Why, because she was concerned someone so drunk might trip and fall, naturally. Droids should not let organics come to harm through inaction -- or so common belief in their programming went. "Perhaps somewhere more comfortable?" Nyx added after a moment with a slight droop in her extended hand if Kelsie chose to feign lose of balance.

What Kelsie intended to accomplish with her ruse Nyx wasn't certain of at that moment, but there was certainly a reason for the charade. Best to play along with it until the many ears surrounding them wouldn't overhear. Or perhaps the woman would draw closer; shame it was less common to be seen whispering to a droid.

Tag: [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] | [member="Razelle Breuner"]​

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Razelle rolled her eyes as Kelsie wandered out to the floor. What the hell was she supposed to do in a bathroom? She could probably find *something*, but there no computers connected to an internal network here. She'd need to at least be outside to get anything done, and even then... Actually. After a moment of contemplation, Raz poked her head out of the bathroom, looking for one thing in particular.

There. Across the hallway from the bathroom door was one little panel. It was meant to be for communications, but it had a GUI. That meant that it likely had exterior HoloNet access, likely for checking the weather, sports, news updates, or whatever. An exterior connection meant it was almost certainly connected to the internal network. Rummaging through the bits Hawk left her, eventually the blonde found what she was looking for: a small plug-in relay dongle. She tapped twice, connecting it to her glasses and chronometer, then walked across the hall. One look to her left, one to her right...

No one around. Excellent. Flicking the anti-security blades up with a slightly showy flourish, Razelle clicked and slid them across the comm panel's cover. It came off painlessly with a quick tug, leaving all of its inner workings exposed. Raz clicked the little relay drive in place, then reattached the panel covering and wandered back into the restroom. Once inside, she took a seat on the sink counter and traced her eyes across the screen. Local security booth public comm frequency, officer on duty was Gloren Tath. Aaaand... "Yes, may I speak to Officer Tath, please? ...Excellent. Good evening, Officer Tath. My name is Hilda, and I'm calling from revenue. Are you aware that over seven thousand credits have been charged to your business account over the last three hours?"

Pause for confusion and indignation. "I'm sorry, Officer Tath, but I'm looking at the information right here. This is a severe overdraft, and may be counted as a forward against your next paycheck." Pause for furious panic. "Most cases like this are a result of outside influence. Officer Tath, I'm afraid your security account may have been the target of a slicer attack." More panicked babbling. The irony, of course, wasn't lost on Raz.

When the man on the other line finally quieted down, she made her move. "Yes, Officer Tath. We should be able to fix this pretty easily. All we'll have to do is confirm your identity, and we can de-authorize all purchases made with your account over the last twenty-four hours." Relief and blustering. Aaaand... "Alright, can I have your Maramerican ID number, please? ...Alright, and your personal ID?"

[member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Nyx N1X3"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] @Holt @Ciri Jade

 

[Holt]

​

[member="Scherezade DeWinter"] | [member="Razelle Breuner"] | [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] | [member="Nyx N1X3"] | [member="Ciri Jade"]​

​

Despite all of his skills, Holt was no slicer, nor was he some hot-shot gunslinger. Even before his retirement, he'd worked jobs from the inside-out, using vast resources of connections to outsource tasks and bring in information. And so while the other birds resorted to their specialties such as hacking, seduction, even feigned drunkeness, but Holt resorted to what he knew best; gathering information. It was surprisingly easy, with most Viceroyalty open to selling their ideas or dreams to some junior representative from the Ministry of Science. They did not sense danger, nor have the common sense to fear what the combination of Holt and their big mouths could do to their reputation and careers. If it had been a different circumstance, if Holt had still been working freelance, then he would've put much of that information to good use. But those days were long over, and so for now Holt only listened. And learned.

It seemed that the politicians of the Confederacy were not as pristine and perfect as the Confederacy made them out to be. The Ithorian Viceroyal of Borao was quick to ask Holt if the Ministry had made any advancements on coaxium-powered shuttle liners -- from the insistent way the aging Ithorian kept blabbering on about the economic benefits of coaxium, Holt guessed that the Viceroyal had set himself in a position to greatly benefit himself if the Ministry ever made that investiture. Yet Holt only politely smiled and assured the Viceroyal that the Ministry was looking into it, before walking away as he made sure to check for unusual traffic patterns to and around Borao once at the Rookery. Semi-illegal profiteering was the least of Holt's concerns, but the Rook found it useful to be in the know in case that certain Viceroyal ever needed to be persuaded on a certain matter or two.

Nothing truly of note was mentioned, however, to Holt's disappointment. But after talking with what seemed to be the nobility of the entire Western Reaches, a different sort of pattern began to emerge, and once it presented itself it had Holt's full attention. Before arriving at the 'party,' the Rook had made sure to memorize the entire layout of the villa; second hand nature for someone with as much experience in the game as Holt. But as he made his rounds, he noticed that no one seemed to be utilizing the entrance into the basement below the ballroom, which if his memory served correct, was supposed to hold the kitchens and food cellars. Yet as his eye passively observed the waiter droids moving around from counter to customer, none of them went to the kitchens below to restock, something that certaintly should've happened by now. Coughing, he politely excused himself from his current conversation with a Twi'lek royal, cutting him off mid-sentence as he moved closer to the downstairs doors.