Troopers, three Yo! Virtual Realitay!

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade shuffled around in what was probably the only proper business outfit she actually owned. An owner of a gigantic company herself that dealt with the planning of children's birthday parties as well as unconventional means of mass destruction, the people she tended to work with were more or less use to constantly seeing her in armor. But today, she had a stranger to meet, someone by the name of [member="Myra"] who dealt with artificial intelligence. Someone who did not know her, and thus Scherezade had no way of knowing if arriving in her usual green skin tight armor would do her good or not.

The Confederacy had gotten word of that particular technology that Alpha Corp was dealing with, but when their Ministry of Secrets attempted to glean more information on who was running it and how deep their advancements went, the amount of intel they could get was… Disappointing. As such, Scherezade, as part of her duties as a Crow and with her own involvement within useful prospects of wars, was sent.

Half of Scherezade's probation time with the Confederacy was up. Probation that she had been put on because of her own not so little faults and deeds. It was a year ago that she had removed any trace of herself ever having existed from Confederate files, replacing some of it with a woman named Madalena Antares who, or so Scherezade had thought at the time, was a collection of fabricated memories placed on her own brain to create a new person. All of it had eventually backfired, but it took 8-9 months for that to happen. One of the reasons Scherezade had not been executed for that, despite the will of the Vicelord, was because she'd come clean.

Well, that was a lie, he still wanted to execute her, but some things had actually worked out.

Back to the topic at hand.

Arriving at Alpha Corp's compound on Naboo, Scherezade smiled to the receptionist.

"Scherezade deWinter, owner of Whimsy, here on behalf of the Confederacy," she announced herself. The meeting had already been set. The rest, at least for now, would be in Alpha Corp's hands.

 

[Myra]

The Building she would approach would be genuinely unassuming. Just a four story tall office building with mild decoration and a simple sign that read "Alpha Corp. Your Gaming Needs at Our Fingertips" hung loosely above the door. The only suspicious part of the whole thing would be three zabrak standing guard outside dressed in what can only be described as 'flashy' armor. They would be indentical, in every way imaginable. To their tattoos, facial features, horn pattern. Definitely clones.

Upon her approach they would look like they didn't even notice her, standing stiff and on guard at the front of the building. Yet upon he announcement, one would shift and open the door "Ms. Myra will be with you shortly. Please wait in the lobby." And the others would show no reaction at all.

Inside the door would be a modest lobby. A simple carpeted floor with several comfortable looking seats arranged along the walls, facing two large monitors which would display the local news. A receptionist behind the desk saying something along the lines of 'the guest has arrived' into a coms device hanging from her ear, afterwards looking up to the woman and giving her a pleasant smile "Ms. Myra is on her way."

The wait would be brief, probably not even two minutes, before Myra, followed by three more Zabrak who look identical to the ones outside. She would be a stark contrast to the rest of the cozy little room. A business uniform, a stern but not necessarily emotionless expression on her face, and her hands folded behind her back almost as if she was a military officer. Stepping closer, Myra would outstretch her hand for a shake, her lips spreading into a small welcoming smile "I apologize if I kept you waiting, I came down as quickly as I could." and the smile would vanish almost as immediately as it had appeared. It was clear she was not one for flattery and over the top friendliness when it came to business, at least not this time.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Cold. Sure. Scherezade supposed she should have expected that. Not everyone dressed their receptionist in bubblegum-pink uniforms and encouraged them to wear their hair in pigtails. Entering the lobby, the Whimsy Owner opted not to sit down; she wasn't a fan of idle sitting anyway, and besides, if anything went south, already standing would mean she'd save on about a second of reaction time. Everyone knew a second could mean the difference between life and death. Her facial features, though, remained entirely relaxed and friendly. She doubted anyone could guess what went through the combatant's mind.

As [member="Myra"] arrived, it was the Zabraks that Scherezade's attention went to at first, noting the detail of their clothes, potential places to stash weapons, and all the rest of it. Yeah, she figured, she could easily take them on even without her usual array of weapons. Hopefully though, there would be no need for that.

"It's perfectly fine," she replied, blinking. Not for the first time, Scherezade wished that her sister was there. Her sister was the queen of running conversations, whereas Scherezade was more apt at making them weird. "You know why I'm here," she said, trying to offer a smile.

[member="Myra"]

 

[Myra]

"I know why you said you were coming, not if that part is truthful." Myra would correct her as she would step towards the door "If you don't mind following me to my office, we can talk there." And then she would head through the door, down a short clean hallway, to an eleveator, and take it to the top floor assuming [member="Scherezade deWinter"] follows. Then from the top floor down another brief hallway into a larger office.

The office would be relatively modest, a white durasteel room with a simple wooden desk with an inbuilt terminal which could fold up from the desk or be pushed into it making it a touch-screen styled desk. Behind the desk, where Myra would take a seat, would be a large glass window dominating the wall. Along both side walls would be three pedestals each, displaying some form of mechanized armor that would rotate slowly. Her three guards would take their places along three of the six pedestals, as if ready to use said armor should the time arise.

"Wine?" Myra would inquire as she pours two glasses of the red liquid, and slide one glass to the other side of the table across the protected screen that would display Alpha Corp.'s logo. "From what my secretary said you're a representative of the Confederacy, interested in some regard to our AI project?" She would swish the wine around in the glass, take a sip, then motion to the chair across from her "Please, sit and enlighten me."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

That was almost an insult. To question the truth of Scherezade's words? The girl was a deWinter; being a bad liar was practically in her blood. Her mother and grandmother, sure, they didn't lie either, but they knew how to manipulate the truth in ways that could shatter a person. Scherezade did not have their social skills or ability to be so subtle. She was a weapon, a sharpened blade, in personality as well as in behavior. It was but one of the many reasons she was more than slightly nervous about this meeting. The Confederacy sent her, usually, when blunt force was needed. This… Was not such an instance.

Following [member="Myra"], the two made it to the office, Scherezade taking note of every turn and thing she saw. The blueprint of the path they'd walked as well as anything else that had come into her eyesight was already firmly planted inside her mind.

Wine was offered. Scherezade remained quiet, taking the glass in her hand with care. She… Did not truly drink. Not anymore. Not after months of being broken, of liquor being the only thing that sustained her energy needs. She had promised herself to not touch a sip again, and while she knew it would be sooner or later before she attempted social drinking, she wasn't quite ready for such. Still, she held the glass in her hands. Most people never noticed if you did that but did not drink.

Most of the office held little interest to the Sithling. But when her eyes befell the rotating armor… She smiled. It was a beautiful piece, even though she would never be caught wearing blue. Personal reasons. The Phrik, she recognized, but what else was hidden in there? What else had Myra, or her company, carefully and intelligently weaved into its creation?

"Yes," Scherezade replied, tearing her attention away from the armor before she took the offered seat, wine glass still in hand. "You're working on an AI that helps predict enemy movements with minimum intel," she nodded. Something like that… It was useful. It also meant that if it was accurate enough, it could replace the need of many groups in the 'verse using Force sects and Seers. Certainly, not everyone believed in their power. But Scherezade was an Endelaan princess, though it was consealed information. She knew the power of a good Seer.

"I'm sure you have every big government, and some smaller ones, knocking on your door for that sort of AI," Scherezade smiled now, setting the glass down. "So I am here to offer you a contract with the Confederacy."

 

[Myra]

Myra would grin at the woman, she was interested in the armor, at least passively. Her grin would disappear when Sherezade faces her again. She was fell informed. Myra appreciated this, having to go fully in depth of why such an AI was useful and just how much of an undertaking developing it is was getting tiresome to repeat at this point. "The Armor, we call it Asturian Armor. Capable of limited flight, full cloak integration, durable Phrik plating, Heads up Display able to be linked and display team mates even through walls at all times, personal deployable energy shield, and my personal favorite: A system of nanites capable of repairing damage done to the armor. I think it's one of my favorite projects. I spent all my time working on it, the way the plating curves, the coloration, the whole aesthetic of the thing. Did I want it to inspire fear or courage? Should I prioritize form over function? Function over form? How many did I want to produce? I spent probably too long on these questions, but here it is, probably one of the best suits of armor in the galaxy."

She would take a sip of her wine, before placing it back down on the desk. She would look Sherezade over before meeting her eyes, holding the stare for a tiny bit before adding "I work long and hard on my projects. I want nothing more than perfection from my staff and the final product. I won't have third parties trying to add their say to the mix or trying to take the final product for themselves. So tell me-" she would glance away towards one of the windows to her side, breaking the uncomfortable stare. "What contract did you have in mind?"

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade remained quiet as Myra spoke, telling her of the armor and how it came to be. She could certainly appreciate that; the process was similar to how Scherezade had constructed her own armor, though the end result was vastly different, which made sense, since Scherezade's armor was made to suit her very specific needs. There were still some minor kinks in it that she had to solve, a few improvements she would make over time, but it was just hers. No one else would ever get a blueprint for it.

But of course, Myra expected the same sort of freedom that she had, as she was used to having. To this, Scherezade could only smile.

"I had similar worries before I signed with the Confederacy as well," she said, "I was offered several R&D grants, a building near the Ministry of Science in Golbah City, and a lot of freedom. I work on many projects from there, though if one develops into a place in which I can't use it with the Confederacy… I just move it to other parts of my business."

Smiling, she added, "Whimsy plans childrens' birthday parties and develops uncommon means of mass destruction. So as you can probably guess, the levels of freedom I require are vast."

Taking her gaze from the armor back to the woman, she nodded, "Most of your limitations would be who you make things for. If the Confederacy funds you, it can't have you making creations for the Mandalorians, for example. Ideally, we would prefer an exclusive contract as well, though that could be negotiated.

And as for perfection… Work with us as you've worked on the armor, and there will never be a need for the Confederacy to mix your final product. It will, naturally, take a small commission, but almost everything will remain yours.

Should you choose to work with us, Ms. Myra, you will find the Confederacy to have near bottomless budgets, and a very rewarding perks and benefits system."


[member="Myra"]