Star Wars RP

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The Female of the Species [Danger Arceneau]


[[[Extracting file...]]]

Simone cursed as the image on her PPV's holodisplay loaded, granting her a full view of Danger's personal goods. A resizing glitch she needed to fix. She scrolled past it, making another mental note to work on her upgraded devices glitches, assuming she survived the night. She ran her eyes over the file, skimming over the achievements of the woman she was hoping to meet.

There were two emotions when it came to Danger Arceneau, regardless of whether you were considered to be a competitor or not; you either wanted to be her, or you wanted to sleep with her. She’d taken her family business and made it a galactic name no one could pretend the hadn’t heard of. There wasn’t a corner of the Galaxy that she hadn’t conquered. Aside from recent bazaars, expositions and auctions, however, Danger seemed to be leading the quiet life.

Lucky her.

While the rest of the galaxy struggled to get by, Danger was probably sunning herself somewhere with a cigarillo in one hand and a whiskey in the other.

“Enough.” The screen dropped away from her eyes and she pulled a cigarillo from her front pocket and lifted her boots onto the table, the steady thump of music seemed a million miles away to the slicer, despite the fact she could feel the base through her chair.

She needed to appear on Danger’s radar. She’d considered a number of ways to do this, direct contact, an email or even attending one of these bazaars and accosting the woman there, but all said and done these options seemed, not only desperate, but incredibly dull. Simone was a slicer through and through, and what better target than one of the largest companies in the Galaxy.

A heavily encrypted storage device rolled through her fingers and she exhaled a small plume of smoke, only keeping half an eye on the door. She’d hacked the database, a challenge in itself, one she’d enjoyed very much. The files she’d swiped rested safely between her fingers and in their place she’d left a poem, and a message.

When the peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Tatooine. Club Ufora. 7pm. Ask for Lilu.

Simone was exceptionally good at what she did, so the trace, if they followed it would have led them to one of a dozen bolt holes on Nar Shadda, none of which were registered in her name. If Danger wanted those files safe and sound, she’d come for them, whether it be with a blaster in her hand or not, Simone would wind up on her radar sure enough once the night was out.

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

Danger Arceneau

M'onnok Fork

Danger rarely did these visits personally.

Now a days, Alisha'ven, Aeri, or Saffron took these sort of business deals. However, when the hack had been discovered and Danger found the poem in a file, it sparked her interest. Sure, Danger ordered the work to see if they could find out who did it, but even then, the gumption drew something from the Queen of Trade few ever managed; admiration.

Leaving Alric and Myra to their own adventure, Danger took notable precautions and disguised herself. While she wouldn't be traveling alone, Noghri guards would be standing by, she was going to the meeting. Maybe it was a desire to find out who sent the message. Or perhaps it was middle age wanting to live some bit of excitement from her younger years, whatever it was, Danger met at Club Ufora as instructed.

Seated at one of the far booths, the woman wore normal spacer clothing. Nothing that would set her apart from the rest of the clientele. She kept the hood of her short cloak up, hiding that auburn hair streaked with silver. Age had long since crept by, leaving those crow feet at the corner of her eyes, but certainly not wearing down any boldness.

Blame it on the hair. Her daddy used to anyways.