Coronet City Nights

Open roleplaying at the Nemesis' lounge. Open scenario locations are not restricted to the lounge.
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Open roleplaying at the Nemesis' lounge.

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The Lounge offers a wide variety of foods and drinks from all over the galaxy while looking on the breathtaking view of the stars above the 20-km long arrowhead hull of the Federation's most elite battleship.
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Ruby Terix
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Coronet City Nights

Post by Ruby Terix » 2012-07-12 05:56

{Approximately two weeks ago...}

Nights like this one were the nights that Ruby loved the most: the sky was perfectly clear and offered a beautiful panorama of stars, the air was crisp and cool, and there was a soft, gentle breeze that drifted idly by.  If she were in her apartment in downtown Coronet, she would have gladly opened all of the windows, just to have the sweet feeling as the air danced around her, caressing her skin and chilling her ever so softly, much like a lover's whispered passion could warm her body and soul as one.  Instead, however, she was out and about with a few of her new friends, savoring the exotic--and in some cases, erotic flavors of Coronet City's abundant nightlife. Indeed, nights like tonight were the ones she loved the most, because they were the ones that made her feel ever so much like she was truly alive, had somehow managed to transcend the confines of her reality to just...be free again, all to herself and her own desires.

Right now, those desires involved washing away the mind-numbing pain of a long day of seminars and coursework in the blissful stupor of hard liquor. She had no personal issues with Commodore Volenth...Hell, she fancied him to be quite the charmer and romantic, though she was personally more into the 'one-night-stand' type herself. What called for the alcohol was the man's teaching style, which had brought her to the point of pushing herself in the classroom just to get his part of the entire procedure done all the sooner. Each morning, she stole a brief glance at her calendar before hitting the shower, making a mental note of how long she had left under his immediate tutelage; counting tomorrow, four days and counting before she was free of him and on to the next lesson. While she couldn't wait one damned bit for that next lesson to begin, her thoughts were more immediately concerned with the next day's worth of lessons under the commodore, the work she'd done over the course of the past few days, and the need for another fifth of bourbon to make it all feel less and less like any of it had actually happened.

The bar--perhaps 'nightclub' was a better term for it--was one of the more elegant affairs in Coronet City, a sparkling, clean establishment that openly catered to a wide variety of tastes among the citizenry of the bustling urban jungle. On any routine evening, it was able to simultaneously boast a long list of notables, and enough room to welcome all guests in convenience and comfort. Ruby could count on one hand the number of friends she had made while on this long, drawn-out seminar circuit, and the entire bunch of them were able to sit with her at the edge of the bar, laughing it up like obnoxious little brats, all without ever once rubbing elbows with or drawing gestures from anyone else in the spacious serving area. Truly, it was perfect...except for having an end some time soon, and all that jazz. There were several reasons she wanted to keep it from ending for as long as possible, and in her search for some sort of means to make that happen, she had taken quickly to the sweet, smooth bourbon, almost--but not quite--drinking it like it was water.

The minutes shifted gradually into hours; with them, the intoxication worked itself through Ruby's system, and she began to feel looser...more open. Across the main serving area, one of her friends had gotten together with a bunch of the nightclub's other patrons and started organizing what appeared to be a topless dancing contest; herself clad in little more than a mini-skirt, a tube top, and a duty uniform's matching cover, the doctor made as close to a drunken beeline as she could to the fun, her top managing to disappear from her ensemble within seconds. Laughter flowed lightly from her, swirled all around her as the dancing continued, everyone in their end of the club caught up in what amounted to drunken pleasure best fit for an urban king. Bodies began to bump against one another, and slowly but surely, her senses began to be overwhelmed by the scents in the air, the feel against the bareness of her chest from the constant, interminable press of flesh from so many others near her.

"...Ruby? Is that really you?"

It took only that one voice to snap the doctor out of it and back into reality...and reality was pretty damned sobering. Turning to the voice, she felt every last ounce of color drain from her face in a flash as she looked over, and then up, right into Commodore Volenth's deep brown eyes. "Well, sir...fancy seeing you here," she began, fighting down a stammer that would have immediately betrayed the intense nervousness and fear running through her. Without even waiting for him to say another word, she dashed over to the wall, digging quickly through the pile of clothes in the corner for her top and hooking it back on as quickly as her trembling hands could allow.

A gentle hand came down out of almost nowhere and touched lightly against her shoulder, lingering for only a second before moving to help her secure the garment. Spooked, and jumping just slightly, the woman turned, to once again find her teacher nearby, just behind her. "I'm sorry for startling you, doctor; I hope I'm not keeping you from enjoying yourself." A light, alcohol-induced laugh escaped him. "Imagine that...my star student at the cross-training class just happens to wind up dancing in the main event at my bachelor party. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"J-just blowing off some stress, sir, from...wait, did you say bachelor party?"

"Yes, doctor, I did. Thank you, for offering some entertainment." A soft smile crossed his face, followed by a gentlemanly look of concern. "Are you going to be alright for tomorrow, doctor?"

"Yeah, I...I was going to head back to my apartment in a bit...should probably do that now." Making sure her cover was on perfectly straight, she turned and headed for the exit from the club, visibly shaken and not even giving the commodore room for another word.

Five blocks down, the bourbon was beginning to reassert itself on her senses, and Ruby found herself barely able to walk straight as she made her way down the road towards her apartment. Light and shadow blurred together, until it all became one long stretch of haze...and that was when one step past a dark, shadow-smeared alley became the last thing that Ruby could remember of her evening. A single hand, rough and powerful, clamped down on her shoulder, followed by a sharp yank, and the back of someone's hand against her face, before the shadows of the night gave way to the darker shadow of a consciousness deprived.

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Ghost
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Ghost » 2012-07-12 06:18

{1040 Hours, Present Day}

A case left open was a case in defiance of the natural order of its own existence. That was a lesson that Paul Jones would have taught his son, had he been alive long enough to do so...it was a lesson the boy had learned anyway, from both the time he'd had with his father, and the tales he'd heard of the man. Hell, it was in the pursuit of an open case against someone implicated in running a prostitution ring that Ghost's parents had met and eventually hit it off. Perhaps that was why he'd been so quick to take after his father's work ethic when it came to dealing with the worst sorts of criminals the galaxy could offer. Perverts, sex offenders, child abusers...it didn't matter what the crime was, really; the fact that it existed warranted not just his attention, but his vengeance. This particular new case, however, had practically strip-mined the gold, forged it into a proper-looking invitation, and engraved the request by hand. A Federation officer, found in the middle of a back alley late at night; her sidearm had been found in a nearby dumpster, unfired, and what had clearly passed as her wardrobe for the night was tattered by rough, angry hands. To add insult to injury, the civilian authorities had failed to solve it, and had taken two bloody weeks to try and get their heads out of their asses about it. It was time the ISIS stepped in...and right now, the most likely candidate for that was reviewing the case file and trying to bite back a scream at what he felt amounted to little more than criminal levels of gross incompetence.

Loosing an irritated sigh from between scowling lips, Tyler looked up from his reading and took a quick survey of the desk around him. To his left, Agent Ohm had been busying herself with the physical evidence of the case, and the investigator was almost positive he could see the revulsion in her eyes every time he glanced over at her. He didn't even need to look to his right to know that Mouse was feeling the same wave of disgust; thanks in no small part to a particularly cruel Bothan scumbag, the girl was no longer so rosy and cheerful as her last name implied, if she had ever been that way. It hadn't taken much to get her into the ISIS as a probationary agent--"Probie", for lack of a better term--but it had some uses, even if it lasted for only a few days. Not the least of these, he had to admit that it was far easier to keep tabs on her if she was assigned to his jurisdiction.

"Lades," he began, his disappointment in this case and the civilian authorities' handling evident in his voice, "what we have here is a prime example of what happens when the system breaks down and needs to be repaired by an outside force. We are that outside force. Now, we have an officer in the Reaper's ICU, currently comatose; I'd like for us to have this wrapped up and her assailant under arrest before she wakes up. Any questions about the case and evidence as you've seen them?"
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Mouse
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Mouse » 2012-07-12 14:15

Mouse had witnessed first hand years ago just how brutal a Bothan's cartel was, having been forced into one herself. The girl never spoke of what she witnessed or of what she'd been forced to do while enslaved. At least she had never been raped. Beaten? Hell yes. Whipped? Affirmitive. Neglected? Sure. But she'd never been raped and for that Mouse was grateful. The young girl couldn't bring herself to finish looking at the holographic evidence. Had it been her, she wouldn't want anyone seeing the images of her naked, violated body lying in the back of some alley, discarded as if she were nothing more than yesterday's trash. The only beings in the whole 'Verse that ever deserved to be treated so poorly were the crimelords themselves.

Still young, Mouse had been looking out the window while Agent Ohm did whatever it was she was doing with the evidence Tyler had shared with them. The girl couldn't help but to shed a tear or two for the victim in this disgusting, vile crime. But some other things had been bothering Mouse, too, with this case that Ghost brought her in on. "Yeah," the girl replied to his inquiry, her tone indicating that he really didn't need to ask.

"You said the victim is a Federation officer. Why was local authority allowed to handle anything at all? Shouldn't the Federation have been notified as soon as her identity was confirmed? Shouldn't the local authority have sealed off the area and ceased any further action on their part so that the Federation could take over?"

Mouse wouldn't call herself a smart girl. In fact, she couldn't really read or write that well, having never been to school since she was roughly eight years old. But she was street smart. She also picked up on things quickly. Learning hands-on was perfect for the girl, too. "How do we know she wasn't targeted? I mean, she's a Federation officer, right? How do we know this wasn't done by someone who has a beef with the Federation?"

Amber eyes flecked with gold drifted between Ghost and Agent Ohm, then the girl shrugged her right shoulder. "Sorry. Guess the images got to me. I don't know squat so just ignore me." The voice of uncertainty reared its ugly head. Whenever that voice spoke at the back of Mouse's mind, the girl seemed to listen to it. She really needed to learn to ignore it.

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Simon Basai
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Simon Basai » 2012-07-13 05:40

[3 days ago. 0230]

Simon fumed as he lay awake staring at the ceiling of his hotel room. He'd never planned to stay on Coronet City for as long as he had, but a man known simply to him as "The VP" warranted the extra time. Although Simon was a pirate, he and some of his men often moonlighted for various shady elements, freelance or organized as hired muscle for some extra credits when they could. He was no stranger to working people over or smashing up their property, and with the threat of raiding their shipments, most people tended to agree. But the pay wasn't much, only enough to put into the ship, or put a bit of food in his belly. Even with the war between the Federation and Republic back on, going at full swing, meant that there were more targets prowling in the galaxy, the only problem was, that often times the convoys were now geared toward defending raids done by the other side's navy, making it hard for Simon to conduct any business, without working with other, larger, pirate groups and often getting a lesser share in the profits. Or sometimes none at all.

Simon sat up in his bed, brow furrowed and jaw clenched. A little over a month ago, "The VP" Hired Simon out. While he didn't know much about the man, he did guess he have something to do with some real estate agency. The Job was easy, and it paid a quarter of a million credits, all he had to do was break some tax man's legs who was threatening to foreclose some of his properties. Which was all well and good, but Simon never got paid, and he had a real problem with that.

A week ago, Simon had sent one of his men out to check on the payment. Before the day even ended, Simon found his man stuffed into the trash compactor, which wasn't far away from where he was. The VP now had Simon's full and undivided attention. This rich asshole was playing a dangerous game, Simon had a reputation for being honest in doing business, and being extremely brutal in his reprisals. Simon set the Burning Cigarette in the astray that sat on the night stand. He wasn't sleeping tonight, there wasn't any possible.

Simon was finished tying his boots when his window broke open. He sprung up from his bed, throwing the top part of the black grease stained mechanic coveralls over his shoulders as a large assailant crawled through. Simon's hand was on the pistol under his pillow when a wooden axe handle snapped across his temple. Pain washed over his body as his legs went limp and he fell to the ground, his pistol falling under his bed. As the large man standing over Simon raised the axe handle for the final blow, Simon's hand shot out and grabbed one of his attacker's fat ankles and jerked it to the side. He fell, but unfortunately landed on top of a very angry Simon, who ignored the pain of the Impact and wasted no time kicking, squirming, and punching the man. A boot impacted the left side of his Ribs, Simon began reaching for his blaster pistol under the bed with one hand as he desperately tried to wriggle his way from underneath the man who was pinning him down.

Simon crumpled when the first man's elbow dropped on his Jaw, with the man's full weight. Simon spat bits of broken teeth and blood into the man's face and his hands rushed to wipe the blood out from his eyes, allowing's hand to shoot under the bed, he felt the barrel of the pistol and grabbed it, bringing down the grip and bashing the now recovering and enraged fat man right across the nose. The man paused, dumbfounded, still trying to grasp what had just happened. The second attacker, who'd kicked him in his ribs now acting as a look out, having seen the gun began to flee. Another strike hit the first man across the face, and he began to retreat, realizing what he'd been hit with.

Simon pointed the gun in the man's face and squeezed the trigger. When the man fell, Simon was able to follow the look out through the window in time to see a black hauler peel out of the driveway. Simon emptied his weapon as he vainly missed the vehicle. Whoever this VP was, it didn't matter anymore. As another speeder pulled up, Simon spat a stream of blood on the ground. In attacking Simon, he'd just thrown away not only his own life, but those of any wives and children he may have as well.

[Present]

Simon shifted his weight against the uncomfortable folding chair in the metal room, groaning slightly as he felt his broken ribs move again. As it turns out, Discharging a weapon indiscriminately after shooting a man in the face is a good way to attract attention from the Authorities. The Room Simon sat in, was a run of the mill Imperial Interrogation room with 2 folding chairs sitting on either side of a simple steel table, but instead of one, Simon sat before 3 empty chairs. Having been here many times before under the old Empire, it was enough to make Simon a bit nervous. The last time he was here an IT-0 electrocuted him him for what seemed like hours. After he felt sweat beginning to form on the back of his neck, He rolled the sleeves of the black Jumpsuit up to his elbows, and he unzipped the top of his utility coveralls revealing one of the the gunshot wounds on his chest, and a Tattoo of the Imperial Academy on Coruscant. A tattoo Simon had 'earned' when he did time in an Imperial Prison.

Simon exhaled the smoke from his Cigarette as the door opened, "Mr Basai. Investigator Alex Hollet, Imperial Secret Services." ISIS? What did they have to do with anything? Simon blew another cloud of smoke into the air as Hollet sat a styrofoam cup before Simon. "Coffee?" He asked. Simon deliberately shook his head pushing the cup away from him. He wouldn't put it past the Imperial to put Bavo-6 or some other poison or mind control substance into the drink. Simon blew out another cloud of smoke as 2 more people entered the room, one, Simon noted, looked no older than 17. Was she a Witness? or was this some kind of Joke? "Would you mind?" Hollet asked, pushing the ash tray across the table toward Simon who silently obliged by putting his cigarra out.

A folder with several photographs were laid in front of him. "A week ago." Hollet started grimly. "A Federation offi-"

"What?" Simon said, cutting the Agent off mid sentence. "No IT-0? No Bavo-Six? You're not gonna make me scream first?" He asked. Simon was scratched the skin next to the reeducator on the back of his neck, exposing the numbers 782-94-3668 written in faded blue ink across his wrist. A standard Imperial prison ID tattoo he'd gotten some time before the Battle of Yavin.

"I generally prefer a more..." Hollet said paused as he searched for the correct wording. "personal touch to my interrogations." While his tone wasn't angry or bitter, but the sentence it self carried the sinister undertone that reminded Simon of the Old Empire. But at least there wasn't a large black death machine hovering over him, threatening to shock his eyeballs and rip the skin off of his face.

Simon listened to the Agent give a brief summary of why he was being questioned as he looked over the photographs placed in front of him, there were several different people but, No face in particular, jumped out at Simon. Most belonged to homeless or registered Sex Offenders, and while they were completely capable of doing the Crime, it wasn't anything CorSEC couldn't handle on their own. One person came to Simon's mind. VP. And while rape seemed somewhat out of character for a man of his stature, Simon wouldn't put it past him either. The short tempered asshole probably snapped and the poor girl just happened to be at his focal point. Simon tossed the folder back back to Hollet.

"He's none of these guys." Simon's eyes locked with Hollet's intense stare, his brown eyes calm, yet unwavering into Hollet's eyes who seemed to gaze into his very soul. "While I am Heartbroken to hear about your officer, Alex." Simon lied. "Unfortunately, in our line of work, Information doesn't come freely." Simon noted the ISIS agent across from him begin to get agitated, but if Hollet read Simon's report, then he'd know that Simon rarely did things out of the kindness of his heart, especially not for those he didn't know. "Maybe we can help each other out. Information for information? Hm?" Of course Hollet could always try beating it out of him, but Simon's eyes clicked to the 17 year old then back to Hollet again. In front of a teenager? Simon didn't think so, and if his tattoos suggested anything, it was that the Agent would get tired far before Simon would break.

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Brigid Ohm
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Brigid Ohm » 2012-07-20 06:55

The harsh lighting overhead casts sparks and fire against the ink-like sheen of her new pair of Chezza Lewbotin stilettos, a bit of an extravagant little detail in addition to the careful propriety of her duty uniform. The scene depicted in the case dossier made for a grim spectacle to be sure, and again she was reminded of a world from so long ago, yet insisted on living through her memory no matter how adamantly she tried to forget. The pictures of the crumpled heap of humanity in that anonymous alleyway only served to antagonize her even moreso, now.

Brigid had gotten away before she had come anything close to this.

In a way, she felt a certain pang of guilt that this poor soul had not been spared. The overwhelming evidence of a sexual assault would have been upsetting for anyone, though sadly it had not been the first time the agent had witnessed such a horror, even during the act. She quickly moved to flick off her glasses to feign cleaning them for a moment.

No time to be thinking about that now.

Hearing the girl known as Mouse’s statement, however, caused a small smile to grace her lips. “Actually dear, that’s rather observant. There is no need to apologize for stating what you’re thinking." The young woman gave a warm chuckle. Brigid was still unsure as to how she felt having a girl comprehending things of this nature. Innocence was too precious to be gift to be spurned by one so young as she cast a quick glance at Tyler, curious as to what his reasons could have been in including the girl.

“True,” she continued, “It isn’t so strange as to why anyone would do this, unfortunately… but, why any civilian precinct would just..” She felt anger reach tight fingers about her throat, though the expression on her face did not change, a practiced effort on her part. “How anyone could just let this case sit in the dark is beyond me. Such is the way of the galaxy these days. A shame.”

The agent chose her next words cautiously, having licked the razor thin edge of the sane world and sexual slavery as a teen herself and having been able to escape; she did not want to be so careless as to give herself away. The tattoos that lived immortal upon her right side would always stand testament to that. She took a deep breath, her face thoughtful.

Brigid turned toward Tyler. “I also refuse to believe that this was merely sheer negligence on their part. Calling it ignorance would be a compliment. In any other case, we have been going over the scene with extreme attention to detail, and have yet to receive anything significant from the lab just yet. If she had ingested anything before the attack, had been sedated, hell, perhaps even hair or DNA or… other samples from the assailant we’ll have to wait for any results.” A small pout graced her lips as she began to mutter irritably to herself about wasting time, her hands shuffling about the current evidence before them for another look.

“Oh yes. Before I forget, Hollet said that he wanted to see you in about…” she checked her chrono. “..Fifteen minutes. You go on ahead, I’ll see if I can figure out anything else here then catch up with you in a bit.” The shuffling of Ghost’s chair being pushed backward sounded in the room, but before she could offer to have his young ward stay with her for the time being Mouse had already bounded after him from her perch beside the window.
Brigid hoped desperately that he knew what he was doing.
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Ghost
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Ghost » 2012-07-20 13:43

"Unfortunately," Ghost began, his response laced with both frustration and a slight hint of sadness, "incompetence is the most likely answer I can give you.  The civvies down there did a right fine job of dragging their feet on this damned mess, and apparently had a collective shit when the DNA report came back."  Letting out a sigh, he continued, shaking his head.  "Or maybe I'm just being kind..." he mused, once more regarding the evidence.  DNA tests themselves, under modern technology, could be done and returned in under half a day's time...this, however, was two weeks.

Gross negligence and incompetence, though vexing, did nothing to explain this anymore...they couldn't.  Not now, at least, when he had this nugget of chronological catastrophe to consider.  It gave him a bad feeling...one that reminded him of his parents, and the 'soldier' that had put them to rest.  The thought of it happening was enough to bring a slow boil to bear inside the man.

Silence allowed that boiling anger to slowly stew, becoming something far worse with each passing second...something that would eventually need a focus, before it went off at the slightest provocation.  Fortunately for that particular concern, Brigid spoke again, though when she was done, Ghost wasn't entirely convinced he'd wanted to hear it.  "There is no Hollet," he remarked, getting up.  "That's a cover name I use."  Shaking his head a little at the thought, he turned for the door.  "Must be related to the prisoner recently sent to our custody."  With that, he left the room, hands clenched into angry-looking fists.

Tyler's attire was peculiar, perhaps only in the sense that he never wore his duty uniform, even to public functions.  The damned thing was a calling card, as far as he was concerned; better to burn it now and get it over with.  Instead, he wore things that, in his opinion, more adequately projected an image of consummate professionalism.

For starters, solid black pants, pleated, and secured at the waist by a belt made of finely crafted leather and carbon-fiber.  The body of the shirt was also black, as were the buttons, though the collar was white with thin black stripes; looped around the neck under the collar was a solid black tie, tied up in a well-formed asymmetrical knot.  Over this, he wore a three-button vest, the black fabric shimmering faintly in the light of the detention center's corridors.  A black trenchcoat, composed of some wool-like material, framed all of this as would a cloak, and a simple pair of glasses framed the investigator's expression, one of disdain.  His shoes were the last element, and they looked plain and dark, save for a silver bar across the front of the slip-ons.  Though he was able to walk as quietly in them as the spectre from which he took his nickname, they made the noise of thunder when he was angry.

...His footfalls had not been silent when he departed Brigid's company, and they were not silent now.  "Lesson number one, Mouse," he began as they arrived, "is to not trust civilian law for shit.  Look where it got us earlier in life...and there's why.  Lesson number two is beyond these doors."

When they finally arrived and got to work--more to the point, Ghost got to work both teaching and trying to extract information--it took a few minutes to get anywhere with the man.  It was situations like this one that further enraged the ISS agent.  His preference, when dealing with criminals, was not even close to cutting a deal...

...but for now, it would have to suffice, to some degree.  Drawing his gun, he held it off to one side, the safety visibly switched off.  A silencer sat on the barrel, and a laser-guidance module underneath, projecting a small red dot on the floor.  "For the record, scumbag, you are fraying every last damned nerve.  You start with telling me exactly what it is I want to know; I'll decide the price tag."  Without waiting for a reply, he leveled the gun at Simon, putting the dot between the man's eyes.  "Start talking.  Maybe you get lucky, buy something nice with all the lip-flapping."
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Mouse » 2012-07-20 18:09

Mouse didn't know much about Agent Ohm but she really didn't need to in order to determine that she liked the young woman. After all, it wasn't often that someone paid the street rat a compliment and then further encouraged the young teen to never be afraid to speak up. In fact, as Tyler stalked from the room, Mouse offered Brigid a small and timid smile that melted into a scowl at Ghost's back as she followed in his wake. At least she thought it was observant!

"You didn't have to snap at her, you know. She didn't know Hollet was one of your aliases. Hell, I didn't even know and I'm suppose to be your best friend," Mouse hissed at the well-dressed man as they made their way from the office to the interrogation room where Simon was being kept. Tyler looked pretty sharp in his business attire. He'd also done well in providing for his charge, though he didn't do the actual shopping for her clothing. Mouse did that herself with Tyler's credit card.

She looked cute, too! White button down blouse with an oversized collar, the top three buttons left undone. The girl hated anything being near or around her neck. While she did not sport a tie, she did sport a black vest with thin gray pinstripes. This, too, was left unbuttoned. A simple pair of snug black pants and a pair of ankle-high, low-heeled boots complimented the emsemble.

Arabella had yet to perfect the mad-stalk Tyler seemed to execute flawlessly. Still, she could carry out a pretty mean saunter herself. Too bad this was not one of the times in which she could show it off for it took two of her strides just to match one of Ghost's. The girl practically ran right into his back as they arrived at the interrogation room and he began to instruct about now its not wise to trust civilian laws. The expression that marched across her cherubic face said more than any words ever could. No shit, Sherlock. You're preachin' to the choir, preacher boy.

But lesson numero dos was lost on the girl. This was also clearly expressed in the way her right brow lifted and she looked to the Agent questioningly. Mouse began to ask what he meant but never got the chance to utter a single syllable before the door was opened and the two stepped inside. Mouse hovered near the door and remained pretty quiet but none the less very observant as Ghost began his tactics and tried to extricate information from the man seated in the chair across from him. That man, the one Tyler referred to as a criminal, kept glancing at Mouse. Admittedly, this did rattle the orphan and quite a bit but she did her best to maintain a poker face; which wasn't that hard to do, really. This was something she had to perfect long ago just living on the streets.

Mouse was pretty good at being size people up. Or so she thought. But as she watched the interaction between Tyler and Simon, she noticed that Simon didn't seem to be a man who scared easily. He was also quite confident, down right cocky and arrogant, and seemed to get a real kick out of either annoying or down right pissing Ghost off. Arabella could tell soon into the questioning that the man in custody was not going to cooperate in the least. This dismayed the girl, even though she knew better than anyone in the entire 'Verse that there were people out there who simply didn't give a shit about cooperating; particularly if there wasn't anything for them to gain by doing so.

But Mouse's hope for a smooth and cooperative investigation were renewed when Simon suggested an exchange. The girl pushed easily away from the wall and took a step closer, turning her attention from Simon to Ghost wondering why he didn't just agree immediately and carry on from there. But apparently Tyler had other plans as he leveled his weapon on Simon and basically threatened him.

Arabella immediately crossed the room, it was small so it didn't take more than a few steps, and placed herself between Simon and Tyler, her arms spread, as she said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the frak!? There's no need for that now, is there? Really? Jus ---" Mouse glanced over her shoulder toward Simon for a moment then looked to Ghost again. "I think tit-for-tat is a fair trade. I mean, there's no harm in seeing where it leads, right?"

Mouse could tell by the gleen in Ghost's eyes that he was far from happy with the teen right now. Had she imagined a snarl? Or did he really just snarl at her? While the teen was certain Ghost would give her a severe tongue lashing later - and hopefully in private quarters - it didn't deter the girl from trying to resolve the current situation peacefully and in a way that would be mutually beneficial to both parties. Granted, the girl also didn't know anything about Simon, so she was probably playing a high risk game of chance right now.

Since Simon couldn't see the sixteen year old's face, he wouldn't be able to see that her expression was just pleading with Ghost to put the gun away and to calm down. "Right?" Mouse hated violence. Which explained a lot as to why she was alone when living on the streets and why she did whatever she had to do in order to keep the peace when she was forced to work for that slimy Bothan crimelord that Ghost rescued her from. While sometimes violence was a necessary evil, the girl saw no need to awaken that devil just yet. Simon really hadn't done anything to warrant having a gun pulled on him and his life threatened. One caught more Tolko fly's with sweetened moss, after all.

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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Ghost » 2012-07-24 02:46

If the look on Tyler's face could have spoken for itself, the yell it would have unleashed on Mouse would have made them both deaf; the venom in it was beyond measure, beyond mistake. Still, he managed to take it in stride just enough that he could refrain from being violent, even if he was livid enough to consider slapping her, or some other form of physical punishment as befit the need right now. Besides, it wouldn't do good to accost her with any form of discipline in front of this individual, whether she warranted it or not; he was better at doing things of that nature in private, where heart and soul needed no masks to conceal their feelings...good, or ill.

Still, he was willing to admit that Mouse's gesture had done some good for someone today. Making an effort to remain as calm as he could, the ISS agent pulled the gun up slightly, the aim shifting away from Simon. "It appears that the probationary agent seems to like you," he said, his voice betraying not even a whit of the anger that was currently surging through him, ready to explode outward. "Perhaps it's in your best interest, then, that she doesn't know next to shit about you. All the same, her instinct has yet to lead me wrong...so I'll trust it about you, too, for now." The red dot danced along the ceiling for a few seconds more before it vanished, and the gun was drawn back into the holster that carried it under the agent's left shoulder.

As he snapped the holster shut, he gave the prisoner one of the coldest looks he could have offered to anyone. "Do not prove her wrong...for if you do, it will be your last mistake." As he spoke this part, the door opened; he didn't need to turn to know who was walking in, and he had the sinking feeling that he was going to get more than two ears full of sharp banter later. "So. You're offering an exchange of information. I believe I summed it up earlier: talk, and I'll determine what your information was able to purchase."
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Simon Basai » 2012-07-31 03:51

Simon couldn't help but let out a short soft laugh when Hollet's slugthrower was placed at his head. As Mouse spoke, he slid the ashtray back over, and shook his head as he lit another cigarette. He rested his forehead against the suppressor and smiled silently goading the Agent to squeeze the trigger. Simon leaned back when Hollet withdrew his pistol, shortly before a 3rd Agent entered. When Hollet was done restating his demands, Simon responded by releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke that engulfed the man's face, silently stating his refusal.

"C'mon Alex, It's insulting that you'd think shoving a gun in my face is gonna make me want to help you here. You expected me to start crying for a Lawyer? Like they do on those cheesy cop dramas?"Simon laughed softly. "Do you really think these tattoos are for just for show?" Simon asked, referring to the faded blue markings he'd received in an Imperial re-education Center, where the Empire inflicted horrors on the Inmates so terrible that nobody who hadn't experienced it couldn't even begin to wrap their mind around it. Although the tests the Empire ran on Simon and the other inmates were still classified, the horror stories, spread by the Rebel Alliance, gave outsiders some insight as to the insidious practices went on, but even then, they only scratched the surface. Simon took another drag on his cigarette.

Simon would overlook Hollet's transgression. Even though the Agent didn't know it yet, Simon guessed that they were both after the same person, If the Imperials wanted to do all the work, that was fine with him. While the Imperials would most likely bring VP into custody, the galaxy was a dangerous place, tragic accidents happened all the time. But, Simon wasn't going to be ripped off by this agent, who still expected him to play by his rules after he shoved a gun in the Pirate's face. "Since you did hurt my feelings." Simon jeered. "You can pay off my fine, it's only 300 credits, and I'll also take 500 off your hands. But that's not what I want, you'll pay it though If you want me to consider working with you." Simon said.

"Of course, you could send me to my Cell, and work on the Locals." Simon said, referring to the local Gangs and Criminals on Corellia. "But I'll save you the trouble, and tell you that they don't know shit." Simon said, giving the agents a freebee. At the moment, Simon didn't know much about VP, and aside from the Obvious fact that he was a dead man walking, Simon did know that VP was rich enough to hire his goons from out of system, which also suggested that he didn't want any fallout to be traced to him should a job go awry, for whatever reason. But, unlike the Federation, who were throwing out Glit-biters as prime subjects, Simon had a few days head start. When he first arrived in Jail, he'd pulled a few Favors with some contacts in the Besadii Kajidic. Hopefully, by the time Simon got out, he'd know VP's underwear size. He'd deal with the Hutts later.


Simon put the Cigarette out as he exhaled another cloud of smoke through his nostrils while he was looking back at Hollet. "So what? Are we gonna work here, or Can I go now?"

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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Ghost » 2012-08-06 01:49

Livid was one thing...but it was generally associated with drawn-out, demonstrative anger, the sort of thing that one saw and remembered for being bombastic, overt, and otherwise unremarkable. Tyler preferred different means for his anger, and in most circumstances, he was able to find those different things; right now, however, he was close to losing it and punching the convict in front of him. It wasn't even the women keeping him from doing so, when he thought about it...

...no, it was something else: the realization that if he did, he'd be throwing away any hope that this bullshit could get easy in the long run. For all that he hated to admit it, the convict had information that was vital to getting the case to move forward. Hurting him would only cause the issue to draw on longer, and that alone was reason enough to make sure it moved forward. Reaching into his suit pocket again, the investigator grabbed something else...a datapad, plain and simple as the day it was manufactured. With little more than a look that dripped with scorn and contempt, he let the device fall onto the table, skidding along to a spinning stop right at Simon's hands.

"Space lanes we've been able to map for a few cargo haulers in Republic territory. The goods are all important to the NR's civilian infrastructure, so hitting them will hit the NR where it really hurts. The crews are off-limits, but you're free to hunt those ships down and rob them blind..." For a second, Tyler smiled...a thin, dark smile that carried with it an aura of purely malicious intent. "I imagine you'll find that you're getting far more than the 800 credits you want." The smile disappeared, vanished like a wisp of smoke almost as fast as it was created. "Now...perhaps you can tell me what information you have that might be relevant to this case, before I decide the investment I just made was ill-spent?"
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Ghost » 2013-07-19 14:11

{Several Hours Later}

Ghost stood up calmly, his trench coat swirling about him slightly in the soft breeze that meandered along the streets of Coronet City. Behind him, police-issue holo-projectors cordoned off the crime scene, giving him and Mouse unfettered access to where the attack had taken place; necessary as it was, that access wasn't really all it was cracked up to be. Surveying the scene briefly one last time, he took a particular look at the security camera watching the alleyway. This particular camera had been used to provide what little photographic evidence he and the two ladies had on the case...more was being pulled up from ISIS satellite feed, but having to dig back through footage a few weeks old took time, and there was still a little more to go. The camera, however--and the evidence it had offered, by extension--weren't even near the forefront of Ghost's mind.

No, someone and something else gripped his thoughts: Basai. The rat bastard had offered up his information at last: two names that, though unfamiliar to the senior investigating agent, had turned up hits for long records in NIF criminal databanks. Ghost had immediately assigned two agents to pick up the dirtbags and bring them in for questioning; while they waited for the interrogation, they would be kept in private cells to stew, letting doubt and fear creep slowly, poisonously into their minds.

The men, once found, would keep, much like meat locked away in a butcher's freezer. At the moment, Coronet City was the major focus point for any true attention. The events of the past few weeks had been glossed over by local law enforcement...another reinforcement in the agent's mind that something foul was afoot, but the short recap had at least served to make them look capable at something. The target structure itself was, like most of the surrounding buildings, a monolith of glass and steel; a tower, pristine and elegant, designed for the business world. The Federation was hosting cross-training seminars on the property, where active-service personnel could learn the ins and outs of any other branch of service, just in case any of them were considering a transfer of departments. For some, it was a chance to learn how their colleagues approached things; for others, it was the first step on a transition of careers.

For Ghost, it was presently the first step to following Ruby Terix's winding road to a beating, sexual assault, and a coma. The tour guide for that wretched journey had come from somewhere, and as this place currently hosted one of the last people to see the doctor prior to the incident, it was as good a place as any to start looking.  In fact, he made only one detour on the way there, ducking into a small, no-name tea shop to buy a cup.

It was later, at the function hall that had become the seminar assembly point, that a subtle alarm had gone off in the back of the senior agent's mind.  It had conveniently given him the name of the building's owner, and he remembered details of the man from reading up on the seminars during the shuttle ride.  Keeping the reaction subdued, he looked around, as though trying to find something lost.

It didn't take long for that lost thing to manifest, in the person of an old naval officer stepping out into the main foyer.  Perhaps expecting the two agents, he waved at them from the hall he had just left, and began to make his way over.  Once he was close by, he and the senior agent began to engage in conversation, which started on the subject of the commodore's upcoming marriage.

Smirking to himself, Ghost allowed for a brief pause to the discussion to turn his attention to his partner, leaning down to whisper into her ear.  "Mouse," he began, eyes bright with mischief, "be a good girl...and cause a ruckus.  Something grand enough to get this place's owner to come down and meet us."
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Mouse » 2013-07-22 00:49

Mouse was pretty quiet, unusually quiet as she and Ghost examined the crime scene, albeit weeks later, carefully. Any sort of physical evidence that may have been left behind at the time the crime was being committed had long ago vanished. Still, the girl allowed her mind to enter street rat mode, which was a far cry different from investigative agent mode. In fact, it was a far cry from anything anyone could possibly imagine and would only know first-hand if they themselves had once been a street rat. Life's toughest lessons were taught on the streets and if one could survive those, then they could survive just about anything.

Being a street rat, one tended to pick up on things most others took for granted, overlooked, or just outright ignored. Such as the small half-moon shaped piece of possible evidence that caught Mouse's eye as she very slowly walked down the alleyway in which the Federation officer had been beaten and raped. Mouse walked over to the brick wall and squatted down, careful to use the tweezers she pulled from her evidence collecting kit to grasp hold of the thin, half-moon shaped object. Gingerly, the girl extracted it from the dirt and debris that collected over time from the winds, deposited and forgotten. Mouse examined it a bit closer before dropping it into a self-sealing evidence container.

She rose, hanging the container up to the light as she looked to the item once more, just to be 100% certain that she had in fact just collected a bit of fingernail. Whether that nail chip belonged to Ruby Terix, the victim, or perhaps her assailant ... well, that still remained to be seen. Experts back at the lab would be able to determine that better than the former street rat could. She handed the sealed evidence container to another technician and looked once more in the area for anything else that shouldn't be there. Everything else seemed to be in order as far as alleyway's were concerned, except for the camera she noticed Ghost looking at down at the far end, well away from the alley's mouth.

Curious, she went back to the mouth of the alley and looked to her left, then to her right. Further down on the right there seemed to be another alley. She looked over her shoulder again a the camera then decided to walk all the way down to see if the alley were accessible from either or both directions or if it were just a dead-end. When she got down there, she noticed that there was no way anyone could have gone to the right for there was nothing but a solid brick wall blocking the way. But to the left? Yup. Mouse looked up at the camera and noticed that though it wasn't swiveling from its current position to see down the hidden alley, the mechanics did support the possibility that whomever was in control of that camera could turn it if they needed.

A street-rat's eye examined the area under the camera. Some trash, old tabloids, styrofoam cups and other garbage was strewn about, blown mostly into a growing heap against one corner. Mouse noticed that the camera's wiring was run through the building it was connected to but she wasn't able to see if that wiring went up, down, left, or right. Stuffing her hands into her leather jacket's pockets, Mouse again looked to the alley she could walk that ran behind the buildings and presumably met with the alley she had looked for down the street a few moments ago. She looked to see Ghost, seeing that he was lost in thought as he, too, looked around, so she made the decision to walk that shadowy alley alone. It was daylight and the street rat knew that any crime committed in broad daylight was one of desperation and not truly planned. She felt confident in her abilities, so felt there was no need for fear.

Cigarette butts lay in a pile against one of the walls. Curious, Mouse again squatted and used the tweezers to push that pile around. She held a hand over the pile, too, to see if there was any warmth left to radiate for this would tell her if anyone had been out here recently to smoke. It was cold so no one had been here in the last hour or more. She took out another evidence container and decided to pick a few of the butts from the pile and collect them. One never knew if a lead might present itself by collecting evidence that, for all intense purposes, were long-shots, completely unrelated to the case-at-hand.

The girl finished her stroll of the back alley and now made her way up the third; the one whose mouth she had noticed interrupting the line of businesses along the main drag. She was careful to look for potential evidence that would help in this case but she didn't find anything. At the mouth of the alley, she looked to her right, then to her left, seeing Ghost speaking with one of the technicians. Heading his way, the girl let her eyes roam the windows of the businesses she strolled past, her mind wondering where the victim had been coming from the night of her attack.

Recalling the hour the authorities claim to have found the unconcious woman, Mouse would have to say that she had been coming from one of the three businesses that were likely to be open well into the wee hours of the morning. One was a bar, another was a theater, and the third was a unique kind of restaurant whose window display was less than appetizing. Of course, they were catering to a select species that did not include humans. So it's the bar or the theater, she thought with a sigh, before joining up with Ghost as he finished talking with the technician.

"Found what appears to be a bit of fingernail and some cigarette butts around back. I'd wager she was coming from either theater or the bar," she shared with her best friend and partner with a slight jerk of her head to indicate the businesses behind her. She and Ghost spoke a bit more as they left the crime scene and made their way to some building where a seminar or lecture was being held. The building was impressive to say the least and the girl's chocolatey eyes were drawn to all sorts of sights to be seen within the buildings walls, at least until someone waved at them while diverting his original course to meet the two agents personally.

Ghost and the old naval officer engaged in conversation. Mouse didn't really pay much attention for she was too busy looking incredibly bored while letting her eyes wander; at least until Ghost whispered into her ear that he wanted her cause not just a ruckus, but a really grand one. She had to do something so grand that it would warrant having the owner of the building come down to personally see what all the commotion was about. The girl turned her head to look at Tyler, a small, sly smile curving her lips to accompany a single subtle nod. "If you gentlemen would excuse me for a moment," the girl said after Ghost returned his attention to the old naval officer. She needed to be away from those two in order to execute her grand ruckus.

Mouse had pondered quite a few things she could do. She could whip out her small hold-out pistol and just start shooting into the air, or destroying all of the really expensive looking vases on display in the lobby. She could set off the fire-alarm and ensure the sprinkler-system went off as well. She could start freaking out and screaming 'Rats, rats!' as she ran through the lobby from the general direction of the kitchens or ladies room. But none gave her more pleasure than the idea that came to mind next. So without further ado, Mouse left the building. Ten minutes later she would return, however, the former street rat would be making a rather grand entrance by sending a speeding speeder through the front windows of the building. She, however, had dove from the vehicle just before impact and only suffered a few scrapes, cuts, and bruises as a result.

She sat on the sidewalk, her knees drawn and her feet planted flat on the ground, smiling from ear to ear at the chaos that ensued as a result of her theatrics. Her smile faded though the moment she saw Ghost and the look he gave her. The expression she returned said it all: 'I only did what you said to do!', then her big, cheesy grin re-appeared and she watched people flee; women shrieking, men cursing, and children crying. It was awesome!

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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Ghost » 2013-07-31 03:59

While Mouse made her way out of the building, to do...whatever it was she had decided to do, Ghost reached quietly for his wristcomp. Ostensibly, he was checking the time, setting his watch to go off in a few minutes with some sort of alarm...not that he needed it, as he would most likely know what the girl was planning, and would recognize any unspoken, unmentioned signals when they came up. Unseen, he was also using the miniature computer to put an impromptu cordon up around the area of the designated accident site. He was unsure exactly where she had acquired the taste for it, but mayhem seemed to be an intrinsic part of Arabella's psyche, something she used...well, liberally, when allowed. Clearly, anything he could do that got her to use it more could also be used to curb it...and that would go a great way in refining her skill set as an agent. Mayhem, chaos, violence...these were interesting themes to use on an operation, or as the means to a particular end; but there was a fine line between using them as a tool, and using them as a crutch, a necessity...wielding them, as opposed to depending on them.

The idea had crossed his mind, as he ordered her to create a ruckus, that he might have to deal with a few traffic laws in the process. The cordon, naturally, wasn't for that concern; no, whatever came of traffic regulations and local law enforcement, he didn't really give much of a damn. They'd already done enough for this case, stalling it for two solid weeks. The cordon was for whoever came around the corner, so they wouldn't be allowed in until whatever pending mess--most likely something BIG--was cleaned up and brushed away.

While all of this was happening, Ghost had also taken the time to ask Commodore Volenth--the man unfortunate enough to be near him during all of the planning for this grand show--a series of questions about the weeks-old incident. The ISS agent suppressed a chuckle at how he was able to do both tasks, simultaneously processing the insights from the soon-to-be-married officer and preventing a commotion from being a bloodbath...but, well, perhaps he was just that good. Bits and pieces seemed to mark themselves in his mind for more immediate attention, as though mapping out the next few steps in the investigation well in advance. "Prized student... ...saw her at the bachelor's party... ...night of the attack..."

Tapping a few last commands into his computer, Ghost lowered his hands, and turned to the commodore calmly. "Mind going over that last part again?"

"No trouble," the fleet officer replied. "As I was saying, it was the night you and the police say she was attacked. My friends had gathered together to hold a bachelor's party in my honor; your doctor friend was an unwitting part of the entertainment." The man shook his head. "She seemed surprised that I was there...embarrassed, really. I offered to escort her to her apartment, because she appeared to be intoxicated; she left without answering, probably didn't even hear."

At this, Ghost nodded. "Thank you; I know where to look next." A beeping noise sounded a few seconds after he finished speaking, and in time with it, the agent turned away from the lobby window. "Please, come with me...away from the transparisteel." The two men walked away to one of the nearby tables, and turned around to watch the scene unfold. Conveniently, so had a swarm of onlookers, just outside the cordon itself; perhaps they were a little too close for comfort, but they were protected from the majority of the damage, and would have enough time to react before anything serious happened to them. As soon as he turned around to watch the carnage, events began to transpire as though they were set to some mystical stopwatch. An immaculately-dressed man flanked by three armed guards drew near and crossed into the protected area; at just the same time, the speeder crashed into the lobby, showering him and his men with shards of broken transparisteel and setting the entire crowd into an uproar. Sparing Mouse a brief, pleased smirk, Ghost turned his utmost attention to the most irate face he could find. Preparing himself for the coming conversation, he found it difficult--not impossible, but difficult--to keep a jovial grin from his face. In the background, he could hear the commodore asking about the possible reasons for such a mess, but by then, he wasn't paying attention to his fellow Imperial any longer.

"What is the meaning of this...this calamity!?" came the loud bellow, the speaker fuming. "Men, detain that little...that little wretch!" Blinding rage blurring his vision, the man turned, setting his sights as best he could on Ghost. "And you! You let this happen, didn't you!?"

Remaining as calm as he could as he walked over, Ghost pulled out his ID badge, suddenly no longer able to hide the smirk that had been there earlier. "Do try to calm down, sir; nobody was badly injured, and the damage to the lobby window can be repaired. I am Investigator Tyler Jones, with Imperial Intelligence; the girl over there..." He jerked his head over in Mouse's direction for a second. "...is my partner, Probationary Agent Rose." As calm as he had advocated being, he put away his badge. "Your men would be wise to not lay a hand on her, unless they wish to be charged with obstructing an ISIS investigation. If I presume correctly, based on your reaction, you are the owner of this facility?"

Calm, this man was not; his expression had darkened several stages during the conversation, finally settling on something short of the ire generally found in the Director-General herself. The difference was in the presentation; Crystala was skillful at hiding the emotions, putting on a proper mask, and keeping her emotional responses in check until the time was right to let them out. This oaf was just the opposite. "Yes," he responded, still bellowing, "and I demand to--"

Raising a hand, Ghost cut him off. "You demand to know why I had my partner run a speeder through your building's pristine lobby. Well, it got you in my face, so I'd say it was worth the effort." Clapping the man once on his left shoulder, the agent chuckled. "Relax; Imperial Intelligence will recompense you for repairs after our investigation is complete. I just have a few questions for you regarding a student here who was attacked a couple of weeks ago." They'd reimburse someone, he thought; there was a feeling deep in his gut that this man wouldn't be that someone, not once the investigation was concluded. "You'll understand if I refuse to take 'no' for an answer, this being an official investigation and all."

"THIS is what you call an official investigation!? Of all the--"

"I am the one asking questions," Tyler remarked, shaking his head. The smirk was gone, now. "First, are you familiar with the victim, and what she was doing here at the seminars?"

"Yes, I..." The man seemed close to stammering in rage. "I fail to see the point of this questioning," he remarked, at least not shouting anymore. "The police already asked the same questions; take it up with them."

Tyler nodded. "Covering every possibility, is the point. I have one more question, actually. Are you aware of the doctor's...reputation, in the Empire?"

At this, the moody man's left eyebrow twitched, the movement barely perceptible even to the most trained of eyes. Ever so slightly, his view shifted to left-of-center, and his voice became--if it were possible--more flustered. "N-no," he stammered; once he was done, he turned to leave, as though already dismissing the existence of the entire frenzy of disaster that his lobby had become. "I trust that this will not be on the evening news," he said, gesturing to indicate the scene around them all.

Ghost could only snicker as the pompous man left. "Not a word out of me," he whispered under his breath, the lie bringing a grin to his face. Along with cordoning the area off earlier, he'd already sent a message to several news agencies in Coronet City; by now, they would be pulling up with everything they could spare to get footage of the chaos that had taken place. Signaling for Mouse to follow him, he made his way over to the commodore, still bearing a Cheshire grin on his face. "All that," he said in late response to the officer, "was because somebody needed to take that image-focused bastard's ego down a few pegs." Extending a hand, the senior agent nodded politely, shaking hands with the commodore when the extension was returned. "It was a pleasure doing business with you; thanks for your help."

As they turned to leave, Ghost patted Mouse on the head, still smiling as they made their way out through one of the cordoned hallways and the main doorway. "Excellent decision back there; destructive, but eye-catching. A little more dangerous than I was hoping, but manageable within acceptable limits; and most importantly, impossible to ignore. While you were handling the fun, I got the information we need to continue the investigation; I trust you're ready for the bar scene?"
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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Mouse » 2013-10-02 21:30

Mouse rolled her doe-brown eyes as Tyler patted her on the head, then she pulled her head away from his patting hand and reached up with her left hand to push his away, all the while telling him "Stop," in a tone barely above a whisper. "Bar scene? Tyler, you're doing well on turning into even more of a juvenille delinquent than I already am. I barely look my age and now I'm suppose to try to walk into a bar?" Mouse sighed heavily, shaking her head as she stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her snug black dress slacks. "In case you haven't noticed, I was born ready," the young teen said as she cast the man a side-long look.

As the two continued to walk away from the scene of chaos in which Mouse so proudly created, the girl's shoulders slumped as she slouched a bit. Yeah, she had bad posture and this was most comfortable. Hands slid free from aforementioned back pockets and hurriedly tucked her mousy hair behind her ears.

"Wait. What are we going to do at the bar? This isn't something where I'm going to have to be bait, is it? Cuz if it is, you might want to use Agent Ohm for that. She has way bigger boobs than I do." Funny? Perhaps, but it was also true. If a guy were to hit on a girl as nearly flat as Mouse, the teen would seriously wonder what was wrong with him. But you stick a pretty woman with flawless mocha skin and nice knockers in front of him, well, his engines oughta' be revving up right quick!

"Yeah, no seriously, though. Who is that Ohm chick? Do you like her? Why is she on this case with us? And what is she doing while we're here? Finally, what are we doing at the bar tonight?"

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Re: Coronet City Nights

Post by Ghost » 2013-12-03 14:38

Tyler had to smile, just a little, at the nature of the progress Arabella's investigative sense was making.  She had the insight to ask some rather good questions of him, even when--or perhaps especially when--they weren't the most welcome of inquiries.  It was dangerous in some circles, true, but all in all, a good trait to have.  Perhaps the only thing that truly bothered him about it was her ready willingness to jump headlong into the more corruptive elements of what truly made his world, his life, what they were.  And we won't have a talk about it, he thought, briefly feeling a little glum about it, because I know you won't listen.  "Ohm is...a colleague," he began, his smile shifting ever so slightly.  "That's all she is, and she's on this case because I requested it.  If my read of her is any bit right, this will help her battle back one of those little inner demons everyone has."

Calmly, he looked around, eyeing the sign hanging down from the storefront just down the street.  They were already at the bar their associate had mentioned.  "As to whether I like her... I would be lying if I said there wasn't something I find attractive about her.  But, that's irrelevant. We have work to do."  Looking around, Tyler took a close look at the building, assessing it as best he could.  The outer walls were pristine, as though they'd been cleaned off just the day before with a power-scrubber; the sign shone perfectly, not even a single light out of place or flickering.  For a normal bar or nightclub, this would have been almost over the top...then he noticed the small sign in the window, identifying the owner of the property.  Suppressing a sigh of revulsion, the investigator turned his attention briefly to the door, and then the nearby alleyways.  There was something he could have Mouse do after all, yes...something that would keep her out of the bar, and busy on the case.  Pondering it, a calm smile crossed his face for the briefest of instants.  "Do me a favor, and make your way back to the crime scene, staying on this side of the alleys.  If you find anything we might have missed--surveillance cameras, openings for an orbital satellite, evidence on the ground, anything--let me know when you get back.  I've got a few questions for the barkeeper."  Patting her twice on one shoulder, he turned back to the door, an ugly thought forming in his mind.  Hopefully, I don't end up needing an ambulance...but, nobody ever said tavern patrons and bouncers were bright folks.  Walking up to the bouncer, he flashed his badge, the calm smile of mere moments prior gone almost as magically as its appearance had been.  As he put his identification away, he noticed the chill of the look given him by the seemingly steroidal rent-a-cop; even the blind and insensate could not have failed to notice the foreboding chill in his stare.  The door opened for him, albeit slowly, and with far more confidence than he imagined this place warranted, he stepped inside; a glint of the sun off of his watch masked the flash of a concealed holocam going off to capture the turned face of the bouncer, submitting it directly to the ISIS database for analysis.  Something about the man was fishy...ex-con, maybe, or possibly a cop who had been dismissed for conduct of open disrepute.  The datapad in his suit pocket went off silently no more than a handful of seconds later, and he continued walking to the bar.

There were four empty stools near him as he came to a stop, standing at the edge of the bar; everywhere else throughout the establishment, patrons were either busy playing pool or darts, abusing the foundations of music and lyrical verse at the karaoke machine, or imbibing various styles of liquor from different manners of glass vessels, whether it was from the tap, bottle service, or the collection of intergalactic spirits arranged on the wall behind the bartender.  Whistling someone over, Ghost took a casual look around, taking the full, dismal array of the establishment into view.  As far as maintenance went, it was at least well-kept; not even a stain on the walls, even in the middle of what must have been a particularly busy hour for the middle of the day.  The seating was arranged almost perfectly, like someone had come in and surveyed the insides of the building solely to determine where everything belonged; even the performance stage, geared more for dancers than the cat-strangling that was currently taking place, seemed perfectly positioned to be a center of attention when in use for its intended purpose, yet out of the way and not a bother throughout the rest of the day.  The head barkeeper, a woman of shapely curves, radiant eyes, and a wicked-looking grin, sauntered over, her heels clicking against the immaculate faux-wood floor as she walked.  "What'll it be?" she asked, a gentle laugh in her voice.  "Got a vintage Whyren's ready to go, just say the word."

The smile on her face melted almost as soon as Tyler spoke.  "Not here for a drink," he began.  "I'm here for information.  Something happened here a few weeks ago; maybe you can help answer a few questions, and I can be on my way before the night shift starts."
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