It was technically the middle of the night, but Cloud City was never truly asleep. Even in the financial district, long after the markets had closed, the streets still hosted some activity. Speeders zoomed along in the airlanes, people wandered the streets and promenades looking for somewhere to be. Isobel Nakano was one such individual, but she wasn't looking for somewhere to be -- not exactly. She knew where she wanted to go, but somehow she couldn't manage to force herself to go there. Nor could she resolve to abandon her plan and get the hell off of Bespin, either. She was stuck between two magnets, each with equal strength pushing her away and pulling her closer. Her target was the Black Lotus headquarters, the building that she was circling from two blocks out on foot for the third time now.
Isobel had been turning the puzzle over in her head, trying to think of a way to avoid having to enter a building that was almost certainly under surveillance by the First Order, knowing that it was 6 to 5 and pick'em that she left the building under her own power or in handcuffs -- or worse, a body bag. But there was no alternative; she needed money and she needed resources, none of which she had on hand. Her assets were tied up the the company and with property; it was unlikely that she would be able to sell her property on Atrisia without the First Order catching wise, but there was, at the very least, the possibility that she could gain access to liquid assets in her business. It was still early enough in her days of being a fugitive -- and the judicial system so gummed up by the collapse of the First Order -- that they hadn't frozen her assets nor forced the company to eject her as Chief Executive Officer.
If all else failed, she could steal as much jewelry as she could carry and sell it. It would sell on the black market for much less than it was worth, but Isobel was desperate. She needed a new identity, a new ship, and room to breathe and consider her next move, and for all that, she needed credits.
It was unlikely that she would escape unscathed, and it was nearly inconceivable that she would be able to get in and out without being noticed. She had to prepare herself to fight and possibly kill the First Order operatives that might be waiting for her or give chase. Isobel would go to the wall protesting her innocence -- she had not embezzled funds from the First Order -- but she knew what kind of justice awaited her in their hands. It was why she had slammed Delilah's head against a wall and escaped -- not because she was a traitor to the First Order, but because she knew she would hang for it, regardless of her innocence. It was overwhelming, knowing that every brush with the First Order would make it less and less likely that she could ever find her way back into the fold.
Isobel glanced at her watch; time was ticking, literally and figuratively. She gritted her teeth and stopped in her tracks, taking a deep breath. Time to bite the bullet. Perhaps literally.
She doubled back to her speeder and rose into the air. She parked the machine on top of the headquarters building. Black Lotus was successful, but it wasn't successful enough to own the whole building. It rented a block of floors near the top of the building, with the executive suites and Isobel's development lab on the top floor of the block. Accordingly, she strapped her backpack on and made her way to the window cleaning rig on the side of the building and maneuvered it down the glass side of the building. A quarter of the way down, she eased it to a stop and looked into the window.
Yep. This was the place.
The glass was the least of her concerns; she cut through it easily enough and clambered through. Isobel had chosen tacticool as the theme for her wardrobe: black leggings, black tank top, black leather jacket, black soft-sole boots. She had a blaster strapped to her thigh. She quickly went into her office and fired up the computer, immediately going to the security control application where she shut off the alarm countdown triggered when she had cut the glass. She shut off the sensors on that floor so she could move around unhindered. Her next step was to begin a funds transfer from an offshore account. It would take some time to complete the process, so while she waited, it would give her time to go shopping.
She went into the lab and began rifling through the supplies there. A few D.U.C.K.I.E.s and a handful of C.O.M.L.I.N.K.s went into the bag, followed by a box of S.U.S.P.C.T.s. and some reload kits. The young woman examined the rest of the stock, helping herself to a few pieces of high-end jewelry that she would probably be able to sell. She returned to the office, studying the camera readouts to see whether there had been any notice of her incursion. On the first floor elevator lobby, a security guard patrolled, his flashlight beam sweeping over the marble flooring. So far, nothing seemed amiss.
But Isobel knew that appearances could be deceiving.
[member="Val Pellian"]