Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Aurora

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis

Three days have been given, and three days had passed. Tommy was disappointed that Corbett had chosen not to give any sign or pass any word. He'd much rather work with the zivilwatcher than with... Well, whatever. No use thinking about it now. The young man gathered his crew, the three oldest and most steady of the band of kids and started handing over everything of value that he was carrying. His tools got split among the three, but his hat got placed gently on Benjamin Bangs' head.

Ben's flat Seshan features were grim under the brim of the battered hat. He tried to be stoic, worthy of the trust of leadership that Tommy was placing on him, and gave a quick nod.

"If I don't come back, you take the rest of them and you move the the secondary locations. Get out of all the places that anyone knows are ours' and make sure that no one can follow you. Not even Addy. If she comes back, she'll have some sort of trace on her from the grown ups." Tommy gave his final instructions, refusing to show his dislike for going into the club.

The young men, thirteen years old at most, clasped hands and shoulders in the only shows of trust and respect that they felt comfortable sharing. Then, Tommy squared his narrow shoulders and made his way to the service entrances, the back doors of the Aurora. It was rumored there was a place there where naughty boys and girls could sometimes find a job inside, if they were willing.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman, glmstr, and Krysis

Aurora itself lived up to its name, the place was a colorful beacon in an already verdant sea of light, though one wouldn't be able to see any such glamour or style coming in the back, especially from one of the service entrances. While perhaps not as squalid as some of the places the boys were more familiar with, the place's rear quarters were far more spartan and industrial than the facade they had to the street, and all of it was bathed in a slightly green, fluorescent light, emanating from a handful of lengthy, cylindrical bulbs. There were workers, common laborers, unloading trucks and ferrying packages here and there, with the occasional armed security guard keeping watch over the lot of them.

In all honesty, were Thomas not looking to do business, it wouldn't be terribly difficult to slip past these outer defenses, if one might call them that. These guards, these people, were the lowest echelons of the Baroness' staff here at Aurora, and the true challenges lay further inside, the closer one got to the club's floor, and the office from which the Diva watched over her 'court' as she styled it.

"Jenkins, where does the Vendragan Kl-" The worker that had spoken up was silenced by a glare from the guard he addressed, the man keeping a hand on the grip of his weapon as he puffed on whatever malignant vice he smoked. It was obvious even to the naive that the guard was offended, on some level.

"... straight to the bar's storeroom, skip the kitchen."

"A-... oh, alright. I just know that some of these are used-"

"No one cares what you know."

____

"A nightclub Lydia? That's how you're spending your down-time? There's plenty of those in the Union hubs."
The cellphone squawked into the ear of a foreigner on the street corner, eyeing up the Aurora.

"This isn't just some nightclub. This is owned and run by the Diva Devika. This place is going to be a lot more interesting than any dance floor back home. Besides, imagine how sweet it'd be to get an autograph or a picture with her, or both."
Lydia was practically waving her left arm while talking into her phone, clearly enthusiastic about the conversation.

"To be fair, that'd be pretty impressive."

"Would you frame it and put it on your desk?" A playful grin creeped along her face for a few seconds as she spoke.

"Probably, but your coworkers would think I'm playing favorites."

"That's because I am your favorite, John."

"Whatever. Go on and get drunk with a celebrity."
The Unionite smirked and ended the call, finally approaching the front door to the Aurora. A simple 9mm pistol lay clearly holstered at her hip, not even slightly trying to be concealed.

____

Tommy strode up boldly, walking among the workers as if he belonged there. He kept his hands hanging at his sides, in plain sight and empty. He assumed he would be stopped by the guard, but if not, well, there would be others inside before he made it to his contact in the structure of the criminal hierarchy.

Usually all he had to do was mention the name in order to be shunted to the correct area. Sometimes he had to offer a bribe or two, but this time he figured that the pictures would be enough. Hand drawn as they were, he knew his chances of being taken seriously was slim, but... better that than nothing at all. It wasn't like that nice guy zivie was going to help them out after all.

____

The side of the club that faced the street found itself bristling with attention, people coming and going and many simply hanging about, all bathed in the light of the place, various shades of violet and red painting the place a vivid fuchsia. Lydia was one amongst a good hundred, at a conservative guess, that looked to get into the place, though by and large the crowd behaved as it was gradually admitted inside of the club. There were those who were turned away of course, for any number of reasons, the outer picket of bouncers doing that job, a digital tally kept on their interfaces of who all had already been admitted, organized by gender, age and registered sexual preference. It would be unseemly for things to move out of balance, and it wouldn't do for such a stain to besmirch her ladyship's venue, much less her reputation.

When Lydia did find her way to one of the bouncers, the guard paid little attention to the weapon on her hip - that sort of thing wasn't his consideration, they'd deal with that at reception - instead the man simply offered his own wrist to her, bare and upturned. It might have been a foreign gesture to the Unionite, an inquiry for her to provide the data on her personal interface. It was something every legal citizen of the Hegemony possessed, the chip they had implanted shortly after birth serving as the central nexus for almost every relevant piece of information and data in their life, and it was something that made his life a hell of a lot easier in this vocation. "Haven't got all night, sister."

---

The guard had eyes on Tommy long before the boy was close enough to speak, the grizzled, rail-thin man still puffing away on his cigarette as he watched him. His grip tightened at the sight, his arm flexed and the 496 he held pressed into his belly - was this some sort of distraction? The man's gaze darted quickly to his flanks, doing his best to remain in his relaxed state, though he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

But that was just how little wretches like him worked, wasn't it?

"Can I help you?" Came the otherwise amiable question, were it not for the tone of voice in which it was spoken. The sentry - his name was Lambert, an Azrican - still leaned against the concrete wall, though his form was tensed, ready. "Kitchen's around that corner," He indicated with a half-nod to the protrusion of the building, the freezer if he remembered correctly, just to Tommy's right. "If you're looking for left-overs."

____

"Yeah yeah," Lydia reached into her arm wrap with her other hand and produced a card, which sported her name, age, gender, a picture of her face, and the Union's insignia in the corner.

The unionite tapped her foot impatiently as the guard was inspecting her ID, but she was more than glad she at least got this far.

____

"I'm here for Hakis." Tommy said with all the quiet dignity that such a young man could muster. Even to him it was unclear if this was a person or a code name he was supposed to give, but usually it meant being whisked about to various people in the club until he ended up with whichever person was most appropriate for the task he was involved in. Sometimes it meant playing decoys for someone else's venture before he got what they needed. Sometimes it meant doing things that were less agreeable. Things that he didn't even mention to his crew if he could avoid it, unless they were personally involved.

Today, after being shuffled past several guards, Tommy found himself showing the meager documents he had to a stranger, and then another stranger, and so on. His sketches and the rubbings of the various textured portions of the weapons that Addy and her group had 'retrieved' were getting limper with every hand they passed through. Every iteration made him more and more discouraged.

Maybe this was a stupid idea after all, but it was too late to pull out and go back to his crew. By now, someone that actually wanted to see his wares, or himself, would have been alerted to his presence... or would be soon enough that escape was impossible.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman and glmstr

Most people made it this far, at the very least, though this was always the first filter for the club. The presentation of an identification card instead of the other's wrist gave the man some pause, not quite sure what to think for a moment before taking it. The sight of the foreign insignia and the seal of the Syndicate on the opposite side clarified the situation however, the slight knot in the guard's brow dissolving as he took the card and placed it gently on his own wrist. It only took a moment for the data encrypted on it to sync, the man skimming over the points that mattered - gender, sexual preference, social class - on the holographic display as he handed the woman back her card.

"... another Syndicate employee, then?" He asked, not really expecting an answer, just saying something to help his shift pass all the quicker. Between her size and her dress it was little surprise she was a foreigner, but that wasn't his concern. It took all kinds in Aurora, and she was just another face in the crowd for him. Halfheartedly jerking his head in the direction of the club, the guard passed her along the line. "You're cleared to head in, speak with the security desk's personnel. Under the blue light."

The desk in question was actually inside of the club, in what one might consider the atrium of the place, and Lydia would find herself still working through a crowd to get there. It was a quasi-vault, a wall of lock-boxes sitting behind the bulletproof class that surrounded the small security station, with two guards within manning the desk - one there purely for deposits and retrieval from the boxes, while the other for interaction with the customers. The former was a Vendragan, a rather nonchalant sort who seemed far more concerned with wasting away the last hour of his shift than the oddly cheery Azrik woman who dealt with those that came and went.

____

The Unionite found herself in front of the Azrik after a few minutes, and she couldn't help but return a small smile.
"I'm guessing I need to hand this over?"
She drew her pistol and flipped it over in her hand, holding it towards the guard by the barrel.

____

"You'd be correct." The young woman murmured, the black vest that she wore muddling her form as she stood from where she sat. The rather plain uniform was unadorned save for the rank badge upon her vest and the mauve sigil-discs of House Arqa on the collar, providing a rather stark contrast to the guard's pale form. "Identification?" She inquired, expecting the Unionite's arm but instead receiving a card along with the firearm, garnering another curious reaction. Such presentations were typically rare, especially away from the industrial districts as they were, but the woman shrugged and scanned the card all the same, figuring that the mercenaries had down-time like anyone else.

This one just knew where the best parts of Neu-Lumen were.

Once the data was processed, a lockbox presented by the guard's coworker, the Azrik showed Lydia the whole process, as not to be alarmed. "Return here, with your card, when you're ready to leave. It serves as the key." Once the short demonstration was done, the Vendragan saw to stowing the lockbox once again, sealing into the wall with a click. "Other than that, enjoy yourself. The main floor is that way," The guard gestured to where a majority of the crowds were flocking, in and out, though she soon pointed at an alternate hallway. "Though that's where you'll find the various lounges."

Were it Lydia took the main hallway, she would find herself in a spacious chamber adorned in the colors of the Diva's house and subjected, typically, to her brand of music. The rhomboid room centered around a massive pillar, which itself was a bar at its base, flanked on two sides by similar attractions. There were, of course, different dance floors, were it that the patrons found themselves inclined to such things, though several tables and booths also dotted the place. The alternative lead to the many various lounge rooms, many with windows overlooking the main floor, ringing about that central chamber on the first and second floor.

____

Lydia beamed, this club was leagues better than just about anything in the Union.
One thing eventually caught her eye though, and that was the bar. Hundreds of bottles lined the wall, most of them completely foreign to her.

The Unionite trotted up to the bartender, pulling out her card again.
"Just get me something strong, will ya?"

____

The card was accepted with little ceremony, the bartenders apparently a bit more accustomed to such a gesture than the previous two recipients of such. A quick once-over of the card had him puzzled for but a moment, but the sight of the Syndicate's sun-wheel beside the insignia of the Union gave him his answer. "... something strong then." The man mused to himself as he looked back over his stock in thought for just a moment before deciding on something. Careful hands sought out three separate bottles, though the last seemed only to be garnish, barely a splash made it into the glass. Once it was said and done the man pushed the blue concoction towards the newest patron across the bartop, alongside the card.

"Nanodiesel, on the house, for our comrade from abroad." The man, seemingly Austran, glanced about his workspace - the man seemed to be constantly scanning those gathered - before speaking again. "Is there anything else I can get you, Lydia?" No sooner had he spoken her name than a cheer erupted from the far side of the room, drawing the eyes of several other customers at their bar. The regulars didn't seem to pay the occurrence any real mind, and neither did the bartender as the cries grew louder, their eyes and arms reaching, seemingly, for the ceiling as the music that had been playing stopped abruptly.

"... well, aren't you lucky, Ausländer."

____

Lydia smiled and slipped the card into her armband again, then picked up the glass and had a sip. The brightly colored liquid was the same color as the Union logo, and seemed to nearly glow in the cup.

And the bartender was not lying when he said it was strong. The nanodiesel tasted about as sharp as a mouthful of gasoline, but quickly shifted to more fruity and sour after a few seconds. She smiled and placed the finished drink on the bar with a grin.
"Thanks friend, but I think that'll be all for now. I'll probably come back later for something."
"Lucky about what?" She turned towards where people seemed to be staring.

____

The man soon set about to cleaning what glasses there were, his own comrades on either flank dealing with other patrons as he kept watch over his own swath of bar. A smile curled at the edge of his lips as he paid a brief glance to Lydia, wondering if she was serious for a moment or two. She was a foreigner, though, and this already did seem to be her first time here. "Well, that you're asking tells a bit." He murmured, taking a moment to inspect the glass that he had just finished with.

"The Baroness has decided to take a few moments for her fans."

With those words, the crowds seem to grow all the louder, almost drowning out the last of his sentence.

---

... and they cheered, oh how they cheered, when she simply glanced at them. Some part of her had wondered if she would have been able to make the short walk between her office and the waiting room, across this small, open space, without being noticed. But there was always someone watching, someone quick to tell their friend, or really whoever was standing beside them, just what it was they saw - , the owner of Aurora, the lady of Triegen, the Diva Devika.

A smaller, more quiet part of her wondered if she wanted to cross the gap without notice.

Ivory fingers wrapped themselves about the rail that guarded this balcony of sorts, her nails barely tapping the embellished metal as she leaned so very slightly to look over the crowd. No doubt there would be a light before too long, summoned by the impatient men and women below, come to shine on her if she didn't bother to move down there and be sociable. But how could she blame them? They'd come here to listen to her music, to revel in her establishment - was it too much of a stretch to think that they wanted to see the Baroness herself? For all of these thoughts, this introspection on her club and her customers, she failed to notice she wasn't smiling.

She did not realize that she was no longer in the relative privacy of her office, that she no longer had that brief, cherished moment where she might express herself without repercussion, at least not at first. But she couldn't help it, that look she wore, at least when she wasn't aware of it - was it right of her, to ask what she had of him? Of course, from time to time, she had asked him what he had thought of his work, but she couldn't remember ever asking him how he felt about it. What if he hated it, this art he dedicated his twilight years to? Her mind didn't have to struggle to find someone she knew better, but how it labored to find someone she trusted, or admired, more. Perhaps that was why it haunted her so.

Then it came, that initial bright flash as the light centered itself on her, the Diva practically glowing from her makeup as she was bathed in the amethyst light that had been brought to bear on her. That was one of her colors, wasn't it? The house colors that she wore, that her father had earned and that she had immortalized, that her devoted wore with a zeal to match her own. That was enough to push the thoughts of Jason, of mortality and morality, from her mind, and bring a smile to her lips.

And oh, how they cheered.

____

The massive crowd's collective cheering quickly clued Lydia in to what was happening. She was here.

A brilliant purple spotlight bathed the idol in an amethyst glow, as if the lead role in a neverending opera. It seemed like such a glorious lifestyle, yet just as suffocating. Did she permanently lose the normalcy and simplicity of being another nameless face on the street? Could she go anywhere in public without people swarming to meet her or possibly attempt on her life?

The Unionite shook her head slightly. It reminded her of an article published in a Union magazine she read on the way to Neu Lumen, about the many problems associated with being a celebrity. Each thing they listed eventually drew back to one theme: they won't live a normal life ever again. Those comforts that commoners and nobles alike took for granted were gone. They couldn't just stay home and watch Union Idol all day if they didn't feel well, there were always appointments and signings and parties and interviews. A cruel price for fame - at least Lydia thought so.

____

A cruel price, by some standards, but a price that some were willing to pay in order to achieve some echo of the immortality that the Imperial twins possessed, and Devika was one such. Though it may have been, for some, an agonizingly long wait for her to traverse the place, Arqa passed through it all in but a few moments. She brushed past smaller throngs on her way down to the main floor, deciding it was likely better to save her attention for when it would have the greatest effect, flanked by her guard the moment she slipped into the waiting room. They wore plain clothes, business suits and the like no more out of place on the floor than anything the patrons were clad in, though her unseen guardians remained on the third floor, silent marksmen tracking any and all who came within an arms-length of the Baroness.

To their credit, those gathered didn't let her temporary absence put a damper on the evening - if anything, it seemed to bolster it - the crowds only pausing temporarily at her appearance in the wings. Where Arqa walked the crowds parted, though whether this was out of admiration of her or the stature of her escort was up for debate. She took up her usual seat when she gave herself time for such pleasantries, a booth not far from the center of the club's main floor, and sat back, her people establishing something of a cordon around her as a small trickle of patrons were allowed to approach the mistress of the house.

Typically they asked her to sign tokens of theirs, or provide an autograph on their personal interfaces, things which she provided freely. One bold young woman asked for a kiss, though she was disappointed that she wasn't more specific - the baroness blew her one, having not heard just where, or how, to place it.

"... if you're wanting to see her in the flesh," The bartender mused, glancing over to where the baroness now sat, speaking to Lydia whether she listened or not. "Now's the time."

____

"That was exactly what I wanted to do," Lydia made her way to the line and waited her turn.

The Unionite mostly just wanted a picture and an autograph, but making an acquaintance or even finding work would be even better. Of course, that would require standing out and catching her interest. She at least stood out like a sore thumb: a head of non-dyed white hair, mute gray eyes, caramel skin, unusually revealing clothing and a mild Union accent, all of which giving away the fact that she was a foreigner that was not even slightly Austran.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Script

As Devika crossed the floor of the club, her people were scattered throughout the crowd. Some, like her flanking guards and the hidden watchers on high were obvious - or at least expected. Others passed unacknowledged. He was another face in the crowd, leaning against the wall with his eyes downcast. Pale of skin and fair of hair, the boy's slender figure was anything but imposing. He was dressed in muted colours - navy blues, greys, creams and blacks. Nothing that stood out. Nothing that drew attention.

The music had stopped, but the club was still deafening. People often said that Aurora's atmosphere was intoxicating, but for Simon that was more literal than it was for most. There were so many emotions boiling in the hearts of its patrons. The flow of alcohol and drugs created a maelstrom, their hearts as drunk as their minds. Their uninhibited feelings mingled in the air to form a cocktail that was far stronger than any drink.

It was addictive. And dangerous. He knew that if he let his barriers slip for even a moment, he could be caught in the waves of the crowd and subject to its whims - whatever they might be. Some nights, he let it happen. He dropped the walls that he had so carefully built around himself, and allowed his mind to be swallowed by Aurora. He let the crowd's highs and lows carry him, delirious, until they inevitably guided him into a stranger's bed, and thence to a morning of shame and regret.

Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight, his walls were solid, his heart stilled despite the pounding of the masses at its door. He let only what he needed in - snatches of thought.

'... just a little closer, she's going to look my way! Her eyes are so...'

'... don't want to look like a sycophant, have to try not to look too excited ...'

'... asshole elbowed me right in the face, and is trying to pretend he didn't ...'

'... can't believe she actually signed it! She talked to me! She ...'

He couldn't keep track of everyone there, but anyone who seemed to be acting differently to the others, he let his mind brush against. He thought it an unnecessary precaution - who would strike against the baroness in the very seat of her power? - but it was expected of him. He just wished that even one of the people in the crowd had something resembling a sane person's thoughts. Not just mindless hero worship. It was pathetic.

As his eyes slid over Lydia, he took note of her standout appearance, and turned his mental probe on her. He was briefly amused by the fact that she, too, was musing on the fact that she stood out. A foreigner, from another world entirely? Now that was interesting. He'd never met an offworlder. He kept his focus on her as she moved across the room, but it seemed her only aim was to catch Devika's attention. Even those from other worlds, it seemed, were smitten with the lady baroness.

Simon sighed, rolling his eyes. Would that any of them knew the real woman that was Devika Arqa. Perhaps they would not be so quick to rush to her side, pleading for acknowledgement.

No, most people's lives would be far better if the baroness never came to know that they existed.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman and glmstr

They came and went, these people who wanted to see her, to have some token of her attention, if not her affection. They started to blend into each other, the Diva giving little time to bother recognizing the features of each until one particular case approached. She was, by any other means, rather plain looking, though her dress was anything but - the woman was barely clothed, if that. Of course she was a hint more tan than her own Austran or Helvett cousins, though she doubted it would match her own, were it that she were free of this makeup. "Having a pleasant evening, I presume?" The Diva offered, leaning back in her seat, her legs crossed. It was one of a handful of stock greetings she kept in the back of her head for such encounters - of course the woman was having a pleasant evening, she was in Aurora, wasn't she?

It wasn't until she heard this young woman speak that she gestured to the seat flanking her, exaggerated nails tracing through the air as she offered her an opportunity rarely afforded in this setting. "... the spoken word is something that I pride myself on knowing, and knowing well, but I don't recognize your dialect, miss." She assumed that Lydia was unwed, hoping that it wasn't of any offense. The Diva was so focused on this new face, or rather new voice, before her that she didn't notice Simon just a few paces away. She certainly expected him to be out and about, it was one of his tasks at times, to run interference for her detail, and so even if she had it wouldn't have drawn much note from her.

"Where are you from?"

____

"I'm having a great evening, Devika," Lydia nodded and took the seat that Arqa gestured to. "Is that okay if I call you that, or would you prefer your 'musician name' or 'Lady Arqa'?"

She cocked her head slightly at Diva's question, remembering that her people are still somewhat new to this part of the galaxy.

"I'm from the Interstellar Trade Union. I'm a Unionite," Lydia produced her ID card and handed it to the baroness, pointing to the inverted blue triangle.
"And before you get nervous about that Syndicate logo next to it, I'm not actually employed with them. They just sponsored my entry into Supremacy territory after I did some work for them. If you want to hire me, I can get you in touch with my manag-"

Lydia caught herself giving her 'how to hire me' speech, and blushed profusely with embarrassment.
"Eh.. I'm really sorry about the babbling, I guess I got a little carried away..."

____

"Any of the above," She offered plainly, smiling still to this newcomer, dismissing the concern on the matter with a wave of her hand, returning it to the other in her lap as she sat and listened to Lydia. A Unionite, was it? The Interstellar Trade Union? She wasn't overly familiar with this body, though she'd heard the name tossed back and forth in the news and in her reports. The Diva took the card after looking at the woman for a moment, thinking it such a strange gesture, her brows arched in both confusion and surprise that one would do such a thing. At the very least, the Union seemed to have good taste in insignia.

The Baroness held the card, scanning over it as the other kept speaking, though the Diva made no show of impatience or displeasure at it. There were many who'd acted out far worse than this - she could handle someone's nervous blatherings. The note of hiring this young woman brought a slight smirk, a twist, to the corner of Devika's lips, and the Soruk made herself behave. She was fetching enough to warrant the effort. "Lydia, darling," She started, still looking at the card as she spoke, "Only a handful of things make me nervous. The Syndicate is not one of them." With that the card flipped about in her hands, the violet light caught on its gloss face, offered back to its owner.

"No harm done. You're looking for work? Business is usually the last thing on the minds of my guests."

____

Lydia blew a sigh of relief that she didn't seem to annoy Devika too much.

"Well that's good to hear, I've run into quite a few people that get really hostile when they find out I did some work for them," Lydia accepted her card back and stuffed it back into her arm wrap.

"Well I originally wanted to see you just to meet you, get an autograph and a picture, but work's been slow lately and you seemed like you were hiring. That, and I do have something that sort of sets me apart from most other candidates."

The Unionite whipped out her phone and placed it on a nearby table and pushed a button on it, causing it to show a blue holographic display.
In the display was what looked like an angular robot of sorts, with some sort of gun in one hand, and an unusual brace-like guard on the other arm.

"Just over 10 meters tall, can reach top speeds of about 300 kilometers per hour. It can run circles around just about anything you can find here."
Lydia tapped her phone's screen again and the model shifted to projected video of the vehicle in action.
Several large mechs shambled into view, and after a few seconds Lydia's vehicle zipped into the frame. The mech hesitated for a second to coax the enemy pilots to begin firing, but the Type-03 weapons platform almost immediately boosted to the side with a flash of light from the multiple booster jets. The rig seemed to skate over the ground without ever making contact, bursting forwards in a slalom pattern to avoid their weapons. Then, a pale blue light extended from the rig's right hand to form a blade, and the jets on the rear of the mech began burning brighter. A loud shockwave could be heard as it was propelled even faster, nearly a blur to the camera as it blew past the first vehicle that was around double its size. Lydia's rig turned around and opened fire on the second with its auto cannon as her first victim fell apart from being sliced in two. Lydia continued approaching the second target with bursts of fire, extending the Moonlight plasma blade again. She positioned herself on the opposite side of the third target, using the second as cover as she sliced each limb from its "socket", before firing a few dozen rounds into the cockpit.

The mech dashed backwards with its front thrusters, then the large cannon atop its right shoulder began to unfold and lower into position. Several flares shot from the Type-03's chest, each one emitting blinding flashes of light to blind the enemy pilot. It was time to show off her trump card.
The cannon's end began to glow for several seconds, and the mech carrying it crouched into a more stable stance.
A massive pale beam of light fired from the cannon, with an accompanied sound so loud that it maxed the phone's speakers and played somewhat quietly instead. The beam burned straight through the final mech, causing it to explode into a brilliant fireball.

Lydia stopped the video and put her phone away, grinning like a little kid that just watched an action movie.

"I don't know if you'd need something like that, but at the very least I could bounce here at the Aurora or something."

____

An impressive display, to be certain, though the longer it went on the Diva wondered why it was that this mercenary was offering these services to her. What reason had anyone to think that she might need some armored behemoth in her employ? Was word on the street so overt? Her mind wandered into thoughts considering her organization, wondering if this foreigner knew even a hint about her reputation - or even what her reputation was anymore, now that some mech jockey thought she would hire her. "Quite the performance," Devika mused, glancing to Lydia once the video had finished, remaining professional and polite, despite her concerns and her internal questions. "If you are interested in work, perhaps you might come by at a more... quiet time?"

The Baroness still wore a smile, though it was slightly muted from concern. "But, the picture, and certainly the autograph, I can oblige now, if you would like."

____

"I mean, I don't think you'd need something like that, but I guess you could call that a resume of sorts," Lydia smiled and pulled out her phone again, turning on the camera. She handed it to the nearest bodyguard and stood next to Devika, giving a goofy smile and a thumbs up.

____

Devika smiled at that, leaning into Lydia as the woman moved to stand beside her, ringing her arm about the Unionite's waist as she flashed a sultry look at the camera. It was all in good fun, of course, but that was part of why people enjoyed coming here - indeed, why they enjoyed her as an artist - the character she had created, the persona. "Call me, this evening." She murmured, still holding Lydia as she did, only letting go once the two or three photos were taken. "One of my people will give you the number." She nodded in the direction of one of her ample guards, their only real purpose being to distribute contact information for those who piqued Devika's interests, for whatever reason.

____

Aurora
Lydia nodded at Devika's request, happily taking her phone back once the photo op was finished. She received a card as well, which she punched the numbers into her phone as a contact and then stuffed it into her arm band.

Immediately afterwards she sent a text with the photos to her manager,
I did it. I better see this in your office when I come back.
-Lyd

____

Eventually there came a time when Tommy's crumpled, fragile paper made it into the hands of someone who gave it the heed it deserved. Holding the paper long before he saw the young man, it was only upon closer inspection of the rubbing that Tommy had done that young master Hook was summoned into the room. It was one of the lounge rooms on the third floor, typically far more private and reserved for Devika's employees, it was filled with the scent of flavored cigars - more flavor than actual tobacco, in most cases - and though the smoke hung and curled in the air, lit a dull orange by the room's light, it was obvious who Thomas was here to see. Nestled in a corner of one of several couches sat a man of relaxed, yet stern, bearing, his immaculate hairstyle not at all suiting the casual dress he sported, whose narrowed eyes now combed over the 'documents' that Tommy had provided.

He neither looked up or beckoned him over when Tommy was lead into the room. Rather the guards on the boy's flanks ushered him over to this man, who seemed to command enough respect from them that they were unperturbed that they received the same treatment. His olive brow was still, unassuming as he looked back over the paper one last time before carefully folding it, slipping it into the breast pocket of his shirt. A brief swipe of his hand came across his jaw, running across the beard that had only barely grown out of stubble, before dropping back down to his lap, his visage fixed in a curious, if uncertain, expression. "You're the one looking for Hakis, then?"

The man moved to cross his legs, his left moving to perch atop the opposite knee, the glossy sheen of his black oxfords catching the ocher, neon light. Deft hands drew a slender tube from the same pocket that he now kept Tommy's drawings in, a light crack coming as the plastic cap was discarded and the cigarra inside pinched between the Soruk's fingers. There was no announcement or spotlight here - the flick of a lighter was the only herald he possessed.

"You've found him." A light jet of smoke poured from his nostrils, eyes darting over the boy in assessment. "What can I do for you, mister...?"

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis and Ottoman


"Tommy. Just Tommy. Not much need of a last name, the sort of life I have." The young blonde male was trying to be cool about being escorted around by the thugs on either side of him, and pretended they didn't exist as much as possible. The illusion that he was walking where he wanted to was only spoiled if the men were 'hands on' in giving direction. He fidgeted only a little before giving a shrug that tried to be nonchalant.

"I was told if I ran across anything particularly interesting, I was to come to this place and ask for Hakis, unless I wanted to piss off the powers that be. So. Here I am." Tommy was painfully aware of how scrawny he looked in his ragged clothes, just the rumpled shirt and a slightly torn pair of pants and not even any laces in his shoes, since the the tough string was dear to his friends. It had the benefit of making it obvious that he had nothing hidden on his person, but also made him look very scruffy and as worthless as a bright boy like himself could be.

"We just want to get rid of those things, Mr. Hakis. They are trouble that me and my crew don't need... but what we do need is food. Medicine. Clothes. Things that you probably take for granted, see?" The boy was a little uncertain there, not really wanting to push his luck, but not willing to give away the goods that Addy had lost her arm for. Hell, maybe even her life. It wasn't like anyone had any way of finding out for him.

____

'Hakis' sat back in his seat, relaxing and nodding along with the young man as he offered his thoughts. He saw no reason to interrupt Tommy, at least not yet, letting the boy make his points. All the while he enjoyed his vice - this was the only place in the club that he allowed himself the small pleasure - and made occasional glance to the door, as if he was watching for someone in particular. "Well," He began a few moments after Tommy had finished, "It is very interesting, isn't it?" The fact that this urchin had found weapons, sidearms to be precise, on the streets and was looking to push them wasn't interesting in the slightest, at least to Markus. What was interesting was that, according to the rubbing on the paper, they were police marked and issued.

Interesting enough to warrant an audience with her highness, he would wager.

"I'm sure that some sort of arrangement can be made." The Soruk dipped his cigar in the air, pointing to Tommy at that note with the hand that held it, "I can see to all three, if you'd like. But I'll need a bit more than just the weapons." The man took a brief toke on the cigarra, flicking it in the ashtray he kept on the endtable. This sort of thing was a delicate matter, dealing with police goods, but depending on when and where he found them, it might make it very worth their while to take them off of this young man's hands. "Nothing unsavory, I assure you." Gadhavi tacked on, almost as an afterthought. The man had to remind himself that he peddled people as much as he did weapons on occasion, though usually anyone who came to see him needed no such reminder.

"Just information. When, where and how you found them, if you would be so kind, Tommy."

____

"Your generosity is very much appreciated." Tommy frowned slightly, not really ready to trust getting so much when the other had not been willing to give anything at all. He fidgeted a little before reminding himself to at least look relaxed again.

"I wasn't actually there, and the girl that grabbed the weapons-- Well, you know what happens when you try to use a zivilwatcher weapon without the right chip in your arm. Others that were with her at the time described it as a body dump. Four victims, execution style, from an air car." Tommy explained as concisely as he knew how, and described the location well enough that 'Hakis' would know where he meant. He found that if he could stick to business, he didn't have to remember too clearly what had happened to his friend.

"As far as I know, no one saw it, besides lost kids and maybe a lurker or two, but the Zivies showed up within minutes anyway. Fast enough that the scavengers of my crew had to vacate too soon to even get belts or shoes." Tommy watched 'Hakis' closely, wondering what piece of information the man wanted, but knowing better than to embellish on the events.

____

Keen eyes examined the boy, watching him as he responded, vocally and physically. The uneasiness in his posture, the ticks in his stance, betrayed that he didn't expect any of his requests to met, at least so easily. It tempered Gadhavi's thoughts concerning this merchandise, and gave him more reason to believe that it might be connected to what had her ladyship so distressed of late. A brief nod on the note of the girl's folly, it was something they were well aware of in Markus' line of work, though he otherwise remained still and silent as Tommy explained further. The only response 'Hakis' offered before speaking was a raised brow, accompanied by another draw off of his cigarra, quickly pushing the smoke away once he had his fill of its flavor.

"... well, Tommy. I think we can arrange something." He murmured, biting his lip for a moment as his eyes darted to his hand, soon resting on the heel of his shoe. "This was how long ago?" Came a secondary question, almost as an afterthought - one final way to judge if it was what he thought it was. It already sounded like one of theirs, like the curious officers that had been dealt with just three days ago, but if it had happened yesterday or, say, a week ago, then it might not have been. Neu-Lumen was a big and busy place, though even with that hopeful thought in mind, 'Hakis' was no fool - he was already planning on spinning his way off of the firing line for this fuck up.

"Regardless, my employer will want to hear this herself before she clears any transaction - you understand, I'm sure." He offered, looking back to the young man, Gadhavi's face betraying none of his own worry. "We can get you something to eat and drink in the meantime, if you like."

____

"I think it was three days ago. It took me a while to decide if this was worthy of being reported or not." The boy admitted, giving a sheepish smile and rubbing one hand against the back of his head as he let his gaze flick to the floor. Three days had also seemed appropriate for finding out if Addy was still alive or not, and since she had not contacted him... he suspected 'not' was the case.

His eyes narrowed at the offer of food though, and he gave a wary glance to either side before asking, "Free? I don't have anything to pay with, but I am not going to turn down a free snack."

Free had it's own dangers, of course, but those he was willing to face. Even if it poisoned him, well, at least he would be going down with a full stomach, which was the most any street kid could ask, really.

____

Three days. Those words lingered in Gadhavi's mind like a gunshot in his ears, eyes unfazed and unblinking in the wake of their sound. Then it was one of theirs then - those four that Devika had dealt with and disposed of after they were caught balls-deep in her warehouse - but perhaps more importantly than that, it was one that he had ordered carried out. Of course he wasn't in the car at the time, having done his time in the trenches both literally and figuratively, but his subordinates were, and already his mind was racing on how to try and spin this, how to try and get this stain out of his shirt and onto someone else's. Beeman, wasn't that the name of the sod he'd sent to deal with this? Markus had that comfort of just being the man who gave the order, not the one in charge of carrying it out. Perhaps the Azrican might do as a scapegoat, if nothing else.

For all of his thought the man never really noticed that he was staring at the boy, concern plain on his face as he did his best to concoct a way to sidestep the Baroness' displeasure, and only after several moments of absently staring at the young man's collar did he realize he was doing just that. The Soruk hardly had time to understand, much less hear, what Hook had said, though he had caught it right in the nick of time. "Snack?" He alluded, briefly, a pleasant smile creeping onto his face in the wake of his rather severe visage moments ago. Markus shook his head briefly, dismissing that word. "We can do better than that." A genuine meal. "Not exactly free but, you've already paid."

The Soruk took another drag off of his cigar as he glanced about the room, something soon catching his eye, the man snapping his fingers once it had. That something happened to be a woman, perhaps five or six years younger than Markus, a waitress dressed in the gaudy colors of House Arqa and the suggestive uniform of Aurora's waitstaff. The Soruk stood with a light groan, refraining from the stretch that his shoulders called for, a light hand settling on the girl's shoulder. "Sarah, could you get young Tommy here whatever he'd like off of the menu? On my tab." The mousy haired woman nodded, a pleasant demeanor about her, having learned long ago that Hakis' orders were no different than the Baroness'.

"Certainly, Mr. Gadhavi."

That drew a smile from Markus, his eyes darting back to young master Hook on the couch. "I need to go speak to my boss to clear all of this, Tommy." The truth, though no doubt Devika would want to hear all of this herself, and not just as hearsay from him. Thomas might get the audience that so many below clamored for, though it came with rather deadly caveats. "Make yourself comfortable," Gadhavi offered with a nod and a smile before pulling away to slip out of the room.

They could get the stench out of that room easily enough.

____

It was true that there was a certain odor to the boy. He did what he could before coming, of course, but water that has sluiced off of God knows how many buildings isn't exactly clean by the time it made it down to where Tommy and his friends could reach it. Soap was an unknown luxury to the lost boys and girls, and something most of them didn't know to keep if they found a sliver or a mostly empty bottle of the stuff.

So there was a slightly chemical, salty smell about the young male as he rested on the couch, relaxing without the face of authority staring at his wrinkled collar that flopped open without the benefit of the topmost button. That staring had made Tommy wonder if he had wandered into the web of something worse than he had believed, or had managed to tell his story to the wrong person after all.

Thankfully, he could read, so when the menu was presented, he asked Sarah, "Ummm. Do you think I could take what I can't eat today with me if they let me go?"

The answer would dictate whether he asked for a meal that would fit in his meager stomach with as little waste as possible, or the largest single spread on the menu, that he might share with his responsibilities later.

____

The woman moved to sit beside Tommy, though she kept some distance between herself and the putrid smell that came off of him. "... well, I imagine so." She offered, uncertain whether it was beyond her power to say. "We can always get you a box, or a bag." That is, if there were multiple boxes. It was a dangerous thing to offer a boy like this whatever he wanted off the menu on his tab, but apparently Markus was comfortable with it. What the boy had told him was seemingly worth quite a bit, or had saved him a great deal of trouble.

---

Eventually, once the woman had managed to slip away from the quagmire that was the ground floor, the Baroness' moved to meet this 'informant' of theirs. It was a pleasant sort of change, though she was still overly cautious in her actions. Everyone was suspect now, and this situation that Markus had brought to her stank of a trap - or at least it did to her. Who was to say that this Tommy wasn't being extorted by the Zivilwächt, him or his friends held against his will until he handed off the merchandise to her people? Or, perhaps more believable, he was already on their bankroll, having been offered a good deal on the 'right' side of the law.

The entrance came with little ceremony, the Diva slipping into the room alongside her escorts, rounding the seats opposite of young Thomas before taking hers. Her skirt flowed, even if so much of the rest of her ensemble did not, meant to enunciate her form more than conceal it, brushing against the small table between them and shifting as she crossed her legs. Violet eyes dancing over the boy with a harsh, judgmental edge as she took in the rather fragrant quality the room had acquired since his arrival. If he had any dealings with the police, then they certainly hadn't had the time or decency to clean him in the slightest. "... I take it you're the Tommy I've heard about, then?" She mused, her usually sultry voice muted, a more concerned, even tone having settled into her words. "The one with the curious merchandise?"

Dark lips pursed themselves in thought, a measured blemish on an otherwise argent image.

____

Tommy had done his best to not gorge himself on the offered food, and kept the majority of it neatly portioned for his crew. It was a small thing, to be sure, but it made him feel better to know that he was taking care of the only family had, as best he could.

He had also almost fallen asleep, waiting for the final encounter of the errand. So when the table was nudged, he jerked upright from his slightly slumped position and stared at the violet apparition that had appeared before him, as if she were some mythical creature.

One hand jumped up to his blonde locks as he groped for his missing hat before he recalled what he had done with it, and then he settled his hands on his knees slowly. "Um. Yes ma'am. I'm afraid that Mr. Hakis took my notes. They were ready to fall apart anyway though."

He had to wonder how many of the whispers were true. It was said that she could read a person's thoughts, and guess your innermost secrets. Tommy swallowed hard, more than a little scared that this might be true. Not that he actually had anything to hide, but who could guess what would offend the Diva?

 

[Tiko]

as written by Script

Amongst the figures that flanked Devika, Simon stood, slightly out of place amongst the armed goons that made up the rest of her escort. Though a pistol hung at his hip, he was a far sight less imposing than his comrades (and a good head shorter than most of them).

He looked anything but tense, half-leaning against one of the tables across from where Devika and Tommy spoke, his focus on the boy who he regarded with a degree of sympathy. The buzz of thoughts running through his head betrayed his nervousness even more surely than his body language. He caught glimpses of the boy's 'family', such as it was, flickering through accompanied by concern and responsibility. Tommy knew the risk he was taking coming here, but he took it to support those who relied on him.

He almost smiled when the thought of Devika being able to read minds crossed through the boy's thoughts. He didn't know how close to the truth he was - albeit off by a margin of a few metres. It concerned him that rumours of that sort were circulating, however. Surely that meant that those who knew better would start connecting the dots before long, and looking for the truth.

'He's more worried about offending you, than keeping anything secret. He feels as though he has nothing to hide.'

The telepathic message to Devika was short, and to the point. It wasn't a guarantee, just yet - Simon could only read surface thoughts, and so there was a chance that more pertinent information would come to light as the conversation went on. But the fact that Tommy truly believed he had nothing to hide would earn him a lot of points in his favour.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman, Krysis, and Script

'He's more worried about offending you, than keeping anything secret. He feels as though he has nothing to hide.'

The Baroness took the psychic's advice in stride, having grown so used to hearing Simon's voice in her head that she could almost have a mental conversation with the young man without missing a step. Almost. The trick was controlling one's expression, and that was something she hadn't quite mastered yet, at least when conversing in a telepathic manner. Regardless of that, Devika kept her mind focused on the task at hand and didn't reply to her psionic aide, her visage unmoved as she focused on examining the young man in front of her. Nervous little thing, wasn't he - but could she blame him? He was taking quite the risk by coming here, especially coming here in such a ripe state.

A practiced wave of her hand dismissed his vocalized concerns, the Diva herself not worried in the slightest about the paper or the scribbling upon it. No, what had intrigued her, and perhaps truly perturbed her, on that fragile piece of paper was the rubbing of the slide that the boy had done. "No need to fret, he showed them to me." It was why she knew about the young man and his wares, after all. "I know you've already told Hakis but, could you tell me how you found them?" Markus had already related to her how Thomas had came into the possession of these weapons, but she wanted confirmation through her own ears. There was a leak somewhere in her organization, and the woman wasn't keen on taking any sort of chance.

Gadhavi had told her that this was shaping up to be a hole that they needed to plug, a potential 'crumb trail' for the Zivis to follow back to their operation - but rash action might condemn them just as well as letting this slide. Thus she wanted to hear just how much of a coincidence this was from the boy's mouth, to see if she thought these weapons worth the price that Thomas was asking - food was no problem, and clothes could be arranged, but to push pharmaceuticals to lurkers? Medicine was already something that wasn't thrown around, at least not often, and not by anyone that didn't have a Syndicate contact, but to put it into the hands of dregs like this smacked of desperation.

Again did the rubbing recur in her mind, the faint, but tell-tale, wreathed eagle of the Zivilwächter alongside an inscription that she had, until now, never bothered to read.

'PROPERTY OF THE COMMISSARIAT OF NEU-LUMEN
GOVERNMENT USE ONLY'

____

Tommy took a deep breath and held it for a long moment at the Diva's request to hear the story yet again. It was wearing to relate the tale of woe to his crew so many times, but the faces of those most in need among them flashed in his mind's eye. It was too fast to really get an idea of how many there were, aside from more than twenty and less than fifty. Two stood out, one with an infected wound and another with a breathing problem, but mostly it was just the number of kids depending on this slender blonde boy.

His resolve stiffened and his shoulders straightened as he nodded to the flashy celebrity in front of him. His people needed him, and he would rise to the task. Or at least do the best he could. The next option for the two that were sick would be to loose them entirely to the void of government involvement. Which, in his mind, was more terrifying than dealing with Devika. Sure, in the criminal world, they might be abused, hurt, or even killed, but at least they knew the risks. Getting taken by the Zivilwächter, or a hospital, or any other law-abiding citizen, meant just vanishing out of the only life they knew.

"First off, let me begin by telling you that I wasn't actually present for the event. I've gotten the story out of the ones that saw most of it, but I wasn't involved until the end." Tommy explained quietly, not wanting to mislead the Diva even by leaving out his ignorance.

"A girl I knew was with her scavenging squad..." Tommy began the story, but more interesting was probably the mental commentary that went with it. The boy's vivid imagination supplied far more details than he relayed out loud. His memories of Adelaide Smith were filled with the poignancy of his belief that she had died soon after the events he was describing. He was thinking more about how vibrant Addy had been as he described the location well enough that anyone familiar with the area would know where he meant.

"So, according to the squad, they heard a series of 'thuds' and were aware of an aircar zooming off. When they arrived at the scene, there were four bodies just dumped." Still warm, he recalled one of the girls saying, but he kept that to himself. One of the others had claimed that one of the bodies was still twitching, but since they were all executed with head shots, that seemed very unlikely.

"Addy would have worked quickly to grab the belts. Belts are useful to us. Shoes too, but they tend to be too big, so the belts are what we tend to go for first when possible. But these guys, they had lots of stuff on their belts." Tommy closed his eyes briefly then, imagining Addy running in front and directing her squad to go for the desired articles. The little girls would have needed to move fast (though the squad had unanimously claimed that Addy had done it all on her own), since the older lurkers would have been there soon, so the small articles would have gotten shoved in scavenging bags along with the leather and buckles. The weapons had just been too big for the bags, but also too tempting an item to leave behind.

"I didn't know a thing about it myself until I was almost back at the meeting place. Addy, the leader of the squad, was struggling with an older lurker. He was trying to take her stuff, one of those guns in particular, and it went off. You know what happens when someone tries to use one of those things without the right chip." The memory of trying to save Addy's life and feeling her body get cooler and cooler as he tried to stop the blood from gushing out of her ruined arm was like a mental gut punch every time Tommy had to revisit it. She had still been breathing when he had to leave her side, but he clearly recalled her being the same color as the thoroughly dead lurker that laid beside her.

He barely thought of the Zivilwächter officer that had helped out, the face just a blur underneath of the hat that he does remember.

"That was three days ago. I wasn't sure if it was worth mentioning to anyone. It wasn't until I was doing the rubbings that it really dawned on me that those guys weren't just civilians that ran afoul of something that they shouldn't have. That's why it took me so long to come to pass the information along." Plus, the Aurora was a dangerous place for good-looking kids. Even if it was safe enough inside, usually, there were plenty that got turned away at the door. Which made Devika's showplace an option of last resort for the lost boys.

____

'He's already spoken to the Zivilwächter, but doesn't trust them - obviously. No hint of what they discussed, though. He thinks that Addy- the girl, is dead.' Simon suppressed a grimace. This was an unfortunate downside of his talents. He felt the keenness of Tommy's loss as though it were his own, his protective love for the girl named Addy. His grip on the table tightened, as he fought to distance himself from the emotions that weren't his own.

'The bodies were executed, shot in the head. Possibly still warm. He's not being totally honest about why he took three days to come here - I get the impression he was hoping to find another option for offloading the weapons, that didn't involve dealing with us.'

It was understandable. Devika's operation wasn't kind to those that got caught in its webs, unless they happened to be useful. He looked across at the boy with a sympathetic gaze. With any luck, this kid would get what he needed and be able to walk away without getting any more involved.

For his sake, Simon hoped that he hadn't made any sort of deal with the Zivis. Devika would not be pleased, if that were the case. And that was putting it mildly.

____

Though Tommy inserted a few more embellishments here and there, by and large it seemed to correlate with what Markus had relayed to her, though Simon's commentary disturbed whatever peace that Markus' honesty had given her. An option that didn't involve her? The Diva turned that thought over in her head for a moment, as it seemed that Thomas had already spoken with the Zivilwächter. Trust or not, someone in his position might make a deal, and if he was looking for an option that didn't involve her or her organization...

'Simon,' She started, keeping her eyes on the boy as she took a moment to mentally ask her aide, 'Does he suspect our involvement in their deaths?' It was already shaping up to be too much of a coincidence considering the slight that she had suffered three days ago, and though Arqa had yet to establish that this was their doing herself pending a call or two to her contacts in the Commissariat, she didn't like the direction that this was going in. There was the possibility that this was an unrelated incident, but that possibility was shrinking rapidly.

It seemed that she might have made the mistake, once more, of trusting her subordinates.

"Nothing about them seemed to indicate their profession?" She asked, curious about the state of the bodies - how they were dressed, what they were wearing, that sort of thing. As she recalled they were hardly plain-clothes sorts, the Zivis rarely were, though she didn't know just how intelligent Thomas was. He was crafty and cunning no doubt, it was a necessity to survive as a lurker, but whether or not he could recognize a seal or a badge - indeed, even read at all - was unknown to the Baroness. A pistol detonated when one of his little friends tried to use it, a cause and effect that Tommy seemed to understand the reasons for fairly well, and it only occurred to him that they might not be civilians after he did the rubbing, three days later? "Aside from the stamps on the weapons?"

____

"I wasn't actually there, ma'am, and the kids that were--" Tommy shrugged then with a weary smile, "I'm sure you know that subordinates don't always tell the whole story, especially if they think it will get them in trouble." Which he knew applied to himself as well, since he was trying his best to not say something that would get him killed.

Yep, the feeling that he had placed his head in the lion's mouth was getting stronger. Dealing directly with the Diva was something to always be avoided, though her network was usually safe enough for the street kids. However, this was seeming more and more like telling someone a thing they already knew. Which he should have realized before laying eyes on the Aurora, and he mentally kicked himself for not putting two and two together until after he was so thoroughly snared in her web. Who else would dare to have zivies executed, after all? No one but the Baroness had that kind of balls.

"Should I apologize for being a bit slow on this, ma'am? I mean, we're just street kids. We don't want to mess around in the affairs of the mighty. Survival is enough for us and it tends to consume our full attention most of the time." Though his expression was earnest and trying for honest, survival was topic that was becoming more and more prevalent in his thoughts. The boy didn't have to look around to know where the exits were. He also knew his chances of reaching one of them was less than a single percent, and that the chances of getting outside were actually in the negatives. It was why he was sitting very still, his hands flat on the couch, and only the tension in his shoulders, legs and fingers to reveal to the eyes that he was afraid.

____

'He hadn't put the pieces together before this conversation. He just did. He's terrified, Devika. If you don't give him some reassurance his life's not at risk, he's either going to bolt or soil himself. If not both.'

Simon resisted the urge to soothe the boy's nerves with a touch of his psionics. He wasn't quite skilled enough to make his empathic ministrations completely unnoticeable, though he was getting better with practice. The trick was to avoid introducing any new emotions, and instead focus on altering the intensity of existing ones by minute increments. Little nudges could produce results that felt entirely natural to the one being nudged, with a light enough touch.

Either way, he couldn't risk anyone picking up on his abilities. Even if they were only a child.

'He knows that the dead men were zivvies, and figures it was us who did it for lack of any realistic alternatives.'

____

At least incredibly tense, if not terrified, as Devika could see that for herself. Thomas certainly had gall coming here to barter with weapons stripped from dead police officers, and for that she admired him. He was a leader amongst his little clan, though she wasn't sure if that was because of his personality or his age, and that only made her decision all the more difficult - was it worth killing him? She didn't have the weapons in hand currently, and though the others in his little group might suspect her involvement if she bought these weapons from the boy then that only confirmed her involvement. If he was working with the Zivis, then that would only put them on a path straight to her.

Perhaps if she killed him, the others would sell the weapons to some other miserly lurkers and the problem would sort itself out. It wouldn't be the first time that police weaponry had made its way into the underbelly of the city, and without the weapon itself in hand the ZW wouldn't be able to tack down just who it belonged to. But that was running off of too many ifs for the Diva to feel entirely comfortable with the plan, her eyes narrowing on the child in front of her, the Sorukan running gloved thumbs over each other as she weighed her choices one last time. Would she risk that some heady Zivilwächt would trust the judgement of a lurker? Would their superiors listen to that sort of talk? They might if they had proof, or reasonable suspicion.

Perhaps it might be time to introduce a realistic alternative.

"Not at all Tommy, it's nothing to apologize for." It wasn't his fault that he was where he was in life, or at least she assumed so. Lurkers rarely, if ever, chose that life of their own volition. A reserved, almost apologetic smile grew on her visage, temporarily looking away from the boy to the food that he had been putting away before she'd entered the room. "I don't know exactly what we can do with the weapons - I'm afraid I can't justify the expense." But the Baroness was not without reason, or mercy. "But you were quite bold coming here and making the offer, Tommy. I like that sort of thing." It spoke of his caliber, of the quality of his character, that he was willing to risk personal harm for the good of the collective.

"I can afford to pay you for the information, however. Would you rather rations or clothes?"

____

"Rations, ma'am. I'll trust you to be fair about the amount." He answered without hesitation. Clothes could be kept for a long time, but food, safe food, was ever in short supply. Also, not setting an amount he figured was a safe way to not be too demanding, since he wasn't exactly sure what the worth of the information had been. The boy knew better than to relax though. The cleverest of foes (and everyone was a foe to the lost kids) always sought to put you off your guard before the final strike came.

The blonde boy eased to the edge of his seat, ready to get up but knowing better than to rise before his 'hostess' dismissed him. Someone had taught the boy pretty manners at least. "And if you wouldn't mind taking the items off our hands anyway, I'd see it as a kindness. They are dangerous to have, and I don't want my friends to get ideas about where to take them."

Ideas like that Zivilwatcher with the hat. Or that sleazy pawn broker on 66th and Kurstway. Ideas that Tommy had already discarded as too dangerous, mostly because of the woman in front of him. There was no place on the planet that was out of her reach, and the kid knew better than to piss her off-- Though if the zivie had been willing to deal, that would have been nice. Dirt on a cop would have been really worth something to offer to the Baroness.

____

Simon had noticeably tensed when he'd picked up on Devika considering killing the boy. Of course, it wouldn't have been the first child to lose their life to the underground. But it would have been the first that Simon had watched sign their own death warrant. The first he'd have been party to. It was a few moments before he collected himself enough to resume sifting through the boy's thoughts.

'He... is concerned they'll take the weapons to a pawn broker, or to the Zivis. Mostly, because he's afraid of what you'd do if they did.'

____

The Baroness gave the young man a simple nod at the note of rations, she would deliver, and the portions would be appropriate to the services rendered. For the most part she was willing to leave it at that, to call their business complete, until Thomas had suggested, or insisted, that she take these weapons off of his hands regardless. Was he just trying to look out for the best interests of his little crew, or was he trying to put hot merchandise, potentially tracked merchandise, into her hands? The lurkers could wind up in jail for a few weeks, potentially even processed back into normal society, were it that they were caught with this sort of thing - the Diva would not be so fortunate.

But she did not narrow her gaze, did not show a hint of displeasure, though she did still from where she had moved to rise, doing her best to look as if she was considering the matter when her decision was already made, waiting only for Simon's input. If there was any hint of apprehension regarding these weapons, regarding some plot with them, the Diva had no doubt Simon would tell her if he could sense it - he was as deep into this as she was now. "If you insist, Tommy." Devika mused, a light inclination of her head paid to the young man as she moved to stand properly, towering over the young man where he sat soon enough. "When shall I expect them?"

____

"Within the hour, if you like, ma'am. Or I can hide them for you to have them picked up at your convenience." He was a bit flustered as he answered though, trying to remember the rules that the whores that had raised him had tried to teach him about polite society. Tommy also rose, a bit awkwardly as it took him a moment to recall that it was expected to stand up for a girl-- Er. A lady. When she stood up, the boys were supposed to stand too. Though maybe it was a bad idea in this case since she seemed to be trying to loom over him and be even more intimidating than her mere existence was.

There was no place to retreat though, and the teenage boy's eyes went wide at what was pretty much shoved in his face with the Baroness' proximity before he stumbled awkwardly to one side.

Though he struggled mightily to ignore it, the hormones of a reasonably healthy thirteen-year-old male meant there was just one thought running through his head. A purple tinged fire alarm that had only one focus that didn't even really make it into a word until the initial impression of white roundness had been moved back to a more manageable range.

Out loud, he stammered, "Thank you very much, ma'am.", though the other thought was still prominent in his head and he wasn't really sure what he was thanking her for. Yep. Tommy would probably be thinking 'tits' at random intervals for hours, though later, it might be 'Famous breasts of a noblewoman' and a memory he'd take with him to his grave. Boobs.

____

If Tommy had been paying attention to anything other than Devika at that point, he might have noticed Simon's pale cheeks adopting a slightly red tint as the teen's ... distraction, empathically rebounded within the psychic's head. Such were the risks of probing into the mind of a teenager.

There was nothing worth reporting to Devika passing through the boy's head at that moment, and so Simon remained silent on all fronts, taking the time to regain his composure and take a mental step away from the boy in preparation for his departure.

____

The unamused violet gaze of the baroness didn't need the aid of a psyker to tell her what all was going through the young man's mind, blinking once or twice before she turned with a sigh, making her way towards the door she'd come in through. "Within the hour, if you would be so kind, Thomas." If only to keep her from waiting any longer, and to prove a point to the lieutenants who were foolish enough to allow this slip-up to even happen. The exotic noblewoman paused at the door, leaning to one of the guards posted. "Escort our colleague from the premises, that he might see to his half of the bargain." With that she slipped out of the room, her entourage not far behind her, the Diva headed back to her office that she might ponder this situation as a whole.

Things were getting out of hand far more quickly than she would prefer.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

Oswald Beeman wasn't a particularly nervous man, but there were situations where even the bold were caught off-guard - being summoned to the Diva's office was one such case. Hurriedly the man had done his best to clean himself up, as one of the hands behind the scenes he wasn't as prim or proper as the guards in the public areas of the club, but a brief visit to the washroom could only do so much for a man who hadn't showered since last night, and even though it wasn't exactly necessary the Azrik did have the common decency to knock. Of course, his presence had been announced to the noblewoman within long before Beeman had the chance to lay a finger upon the door, Oswald knew that much at least, but he figured it good form to do so anyway as there were typically only two reasons one was called into her ladyship's presence.

One being far more common than the other.

"Enter."

Even with a single word her tone proved melodic, Beeman's gaze dashing to the amaranthine baroness who rested behind a sleek, modern desk. The office was largely devoid of light, save for what poured in through the massive window at his left flank, a wide landscape view of the four levels of the club below, the dazzling showers of neon light washing over the place's already vibrant color. The relative darkness did little to dull her vibrant, ivory visage or the displeasure evident in its corners. "You requested my presence, your highness?" The Azrican's words stumbled out from between his lips, spurred on by the silence he'd only just now noticed, punctuated by the door's closing behind him, the room sealed away from the thumping bass that plagued the rest of the building.

"Yes, I did."

She had yet to look up at him, far too concerned with something on her desk, just out of Oswald's sight, and so, feeling that it was the proper thing to do, he stepped forward, his head bowed in reverence for the mistress of the establishment. Silently he slipped through the various seating arrangements and end-tables that occupied the greater space of the baroness' office, as he'd learned to long ago on the streets, skills honed through any number of games he and the others would play - sneaking around imagined monsters to make off with the treasure. Of course, here the dragon was all too real. "Might I inquire as to why, your highness?" He asked, looking to the floor, offering a bow as he did.

"Certainly, though you could wait until I'm finished and find out."

Beeman winced at that, though he didn't lift his gaze until he heard the click her stylus meeting the desk's glass face, looking up to the woman many felt embodied Neu-Lumen, the Soruk Diva, clad in the colors of her house with a face to match his own once he saw what lay on her desk. Three pistols, Krohn 374s by the look of their helical magazines, each meticulously laid out in the same pattern - with all of them facing him. Beyond the firearms was a holosheet which no longer held the woman's attention, her eyes instead solely focused on the man before her. Her fuchsia gaze bore through him without concern for his comfort, taking only a moment to look over his clothing before speaking once more, not giving the man a chance to apologize. "Perhaps you'd care to explain how these came into my possession."

"... pardon, my lady?"

"The weapons."

"Ah..." He started with a half nod, eyes moving back to the weapons atop the desk as his mind moved immediately to his duties over the course of the past week. Oswald had been assigned twice to dispose of evidence, first with two of their own who had cut into their merchandise and second with four Zivis that were looking for said merchandise - but there were only three weapons. "I'm not entirely certain, my lady, neither of my previous assignments included the disposal of three weapons." Such a response garnered little sympathy from his superior, who regarded him with the same quiet disdain she'd exuded since he had bothered to speak.

"How about four?"

It was foolish to try and put anything past this woman - that was a truth nearly everyone on the planet knew - and though Oswald knew that she was likely aware of his assignments, he couldn't help but wince at her question. There was no doubt in the man's mind that she was quite familiar with his previous assignment, considering the embarrassment that lay upon her desk right now. Beeman nodded, answering with a silent affirmative as he elected to pursue what he felt to be the best course of action: honesty. "Yes, my lady." He finally spoke, eyes lingering on the weapons. "I was assigned to dispose of the four police officers, three days ago. B-" It took the footpad a moment to work up the courage to inquire, to incriminate himself, as to the fourth.

"But where is the-"

"Gone." She answered plainly, her voice cutting through his own with ease. "Zivilwächter weapons with Zivilwächter countermeasures - instead of a fourth weapon we have a crippled skank in police custody. One of your kinsmen, as I understand it." She might give the lurkers a chance to rise above what they once were, letting them be halfway functional members of imperial society at the cost of any morality they had left, but that didn't mean she cared for the bestial dregs. "Presumably one of the ones who looted the bodies. I bartered for these." In that word alone one could hear her displeasure. Beeman offered no explanation, no excuse, for the failure that confronted him, and perhaps, in that, he was wise.

"Do you know why we're successful, mister Beeman?"

The question caught him off guard once more, the Azrican looking up from where he'd bowed his head to the woman who regarded him quite seriously, as if it wasn't a rhetorical question. He wasn't quite sure what to say, or how to start, and so he stammered silently for a moment as his mind found traction enough to manage, "Not the specifics, your highness." In that he was truthful, he wasn't privy to the great goings-on of her organization - all he did was carry out orders, and any number of them at that. But honest as it might have been, his answer didn't impress the Soruk. She rose from her seat without an ounce of effort, gliding in way only the classically trained could match, soon cradling one of the sidearms in her hands.

"Mister Beeman, I wasn't expecting specifics. Come."

Quietly the diva moved from behind the desk towards the massive bay window at their flank, the click of her heels echoing through the office as she moved to look out over her domain. The night was still young in the eyes of Neu Lumen, and what lay before her was a testament to such - past midnight and the crowd was just as strong as at sunset. Beeman had done his best to follow her there, though he hesitated to move too quickly, too closely, though it wasn't until he was alongside of her that she deigned to speak further. "It's a machine, mister Beeman, filled with gears and governors and belts and more. Meant to - designed to - operate efficiently, if not flawlessly. From the most mundane waiter to me, all parts of the machine - you're in there too, mister Beeman, somewhere along the line."

At that she held the pistol aloft in her hand, the stylized, fingerless opera gloves she wore proving a stark contrast to the Imperial sidearm, her archaic touch balancing its sleek, modern lines. The shimmering neon light caught the slide's bluing, the government etching proving its only interruption on the receiver. "When one part of this machine fails - a sticky gear or a lazy governor - it endangers the whole body." From the most mundane waiter all the way to her. Oswald sighed, hearing the unspoken addendum and nodding along with it, his gaze still lingering upon the hedonistic frenzy before him. "This will not happen again."

"Yes, your highness."

"I'm glad we understand each other, Oswald."

Amongst a hail of dazzling neon the errant muzzle flash was just another drop lost in the storm.

___

Gadhavi was still buttoning up his shirt as he moved through the secretary's office, simply nodding his way past the guards as he rushed along to the meeting that he felt he was late for. In reality he was right on time but when a summons is called when one was undressed, well - it imparts a sort of urgency one might not have otherwise. Indeed, on many places away from Neu Lumen it would have seemed very improper to walk into a noblewoman's office with one's jacket underarm instead of on one's shoulders, but considering the sight that greeted him, propriety was rather out of the picture. "Good evening all, apologies for the dela-"

"Josef Kampf, in the office again?"

Marlowe, the pencil-pushing general director, was a rather amusing contrast to the woman at his flank. The Vitestovak regarded the Azrican with a rather disgusted glance as Victor held his handkerchief over his mouth, as if the bloody mess in the corner was some diseased carcass. One would think, spending as long as he had at the Diva's side, the gentleman would've grown used to the sight of blood, but Markus had to remind himself that not everyone saw her in the same light as he did. To most, indeed, to the whole empire outside of this world, she was simply a musical icon, a revolutionary who dared to buck the system with her avant-garde ways - someone one would never think to have a dead body in their office.

But, in the wake of a dead man in the far corner and Victor doing what Victor did best, Markus shrugged off his concerns of tardiness as he moved to take a seat on the couch opposite the unimpressed Leljana. Of the three of them there, she was easily the best dressed, every inch the professional, from her spit-shined shoes to the Arqa pin on the lapel of her coat - lesser men, men not unlike mister Marlowe, might have been intimidated by being outdressed by a woman at a business meeting, but Markus? The Weltraum Korps had helped Gadhavi realize what was worth worrying over, and so with a pleasant smile and a brief nod - neither of which she returned to him - he greeted the steely third of their little company.

"So it seems, Victor - any idea why we were called? I presume it's not to keep him company."

"None whatsoever." Leljana murmured, her severe visage moving back to Markus as she too wondered why they'd been summoned. Someone else had already taken a bullet today, and Matić knew well enough how those sorts of meetings were conducted. This looked far more to be a case of intimidation than elimination, at least in their case. "I haven't seen her yet." Gadhavi shrugged at that note, glancing to the endtable beside him and the ashtray upon it, soon fishing about in his jacket, about to speak, when the general director cut him off.

"I don't see how she stands keeping something like that in her office." He mused, stepping between the other lieutenants as he moved for his typical seat, "The diseases alone-"

"It's not like he was a lurker, Victor." Markus managed, his lips pursed about a cigar as he saw to its ignition.

"He probably was befor-"

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice." The sing-song voice of the Diva killed all conversation present, though only the men bothered to look to her as she hung over Matić's shoulder. "I know it was something of an interruption." Arqa murmured, her eyes dancing briefly to the smoking Soruk before she moved to take a seat at the figurative 'head' of all those gathered. Not once did she pay an ounce of heed to the body in the corner, despite the occasional glances that both Gadhavi and Marlowe made in its direction.

Oddly enough it was Leljana who inquired as to the deceased, her stern visage betraying no emotional concern. "Bad news, I take it?"

"In a word, yes."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Script and Ottoman

The observation chamber always felt horrendously exposed to Simon. No matter how many times he reminded himself that the clear glass wall before him was indistinguishable from any other section of the office to those beyond it, whenever they glanced his way, he flinched.

The young psion leaned against the wall of the room, forgoing the chair positioned a few feet away. He felt there was little point to getting comfortable, when relaxation would remain far beyond his reach.

He wished that Devika would warn him when she planned to kill the people she was having him read. There was nothing quite like the sensation of the death a person to whose mind you were linked. Their thoughts and emotions tied to yours... and then gone. The harrowing split second wherein he felt them die. It always shook him to the core. It had taken him the time since just to recover enough to focus on his task.

As the last of Devika's lieutenants - Markus - filed in, he took a breath and opened his mind to the man's own, just as he had for the others. The trio's thoughts came to him in bits and pieces - like trying to listen to three conversations at once - but he could make out the gist of each of their lines of thinking. Hopefully, that would be enough.

For some reason, he'd experienced a sudden and intense renewal of his desire not to disappoint the Diva.

He couldn't help but suspect that had been intentional.

____

With an idle wave of her hand the Diva brushed away the smoke that curled about those gathered, dissipating into the greater office as it was spurned by her eminence, courtesy of Gadhavi who, alongside Victor, was quick to bow his head out of respect for the noble. "Your ladyship," They offered in conjunction, the difference in their voices reflective of their differences of opinion. Marlowe, desk-jockey that he was, did have one thing going for him and that was his passion for expediency, something that was voiced rather plainly soon enough. "Just what sort of bad news?" Markus allowed his brows to creep up a hair as he glanced to the general director, taking a lengthy drag of the cigar as he did - Victor's comfort around Devika did surprise Gadhavi at times, but the two had known each other, and worked together, for decades. It should have come at little surprise.

"I'm sure you all recall our incident three days ago."

"The 'raid'?" Spoke the Azrican, replying to Arqa's rhetorical question with one of his own, more out of some desire to have the last word rather than any serious inquiry. The implication of his tone wasn't exactly incorrect - in terms of a raid it was rather pathetic: four officers in way over their heads, on what seemed like an unsanctioned operation, caught red-handed trespassing at a private establishment. Regardless of whether or not they had found anything, they had to be dealt with, Gadhavi able to recall their execution all too well. Beyond that, his surprise, mock or otherwise, wasn't out of place either - to all those gathered, save Markus, the situation had been regarded as done and finished. A non-issue.

But 'Hakis' had been the one to recover the firearms in a laughable deal with a lurker, and as such Gadhavi had some forewarning of this debacle.

Devika simply nodded, crossing her legs under the shimmering fabric of her dress' skirt, her shoulders sagging slightly to the left as she leaned in her seat. "Yes, regarding the Zivilwächter officers and their disposal." Already had Arqa started to continue when Marlowe interrupted her, warranting repayment in kind from Gadhavi.

"Dead, as I recall, not like they're going-"

"But the witnesses will." Markus quipped, not even knowing what the man was going to say. The Soruk paid Victor a playful, hostile smile, his spare hand moving to pat the cushion on the couch beside him, beckoning him to take a seat. Gadhavi wondered if her ladyship was going to ask about tying up the loose ends with Tommy and his gang, but he figured that was a matter for later, away from the professionals he sat with. "Relax mister Marlowe, it's not any of your business anyway-" With that came a light chuckle, amused, from the Baroness.

"Thank you, Markus, but you're only half correct." The nervous general director sat as the thug bid him to, though Victor made sure to lean away from the soft-spoken Soruk. "You're right in that the witnesses will talk, one way or another - the police can be quite convincing - but you're mistaken if you think mister Marlowe is safe." Of course everyone knew that Victor was just as tangled in this twisted web as anyone else, but Markus' statement was directed moreso at how clean his hands were - Victor was never the one pulling the trigger, or, in this case, dumping the bodies. "If any one of those children speak to the police and mention my name in connection with those weapons," A momentary glance back to her desk and the three sidearms upon it, "They' won't just be speaking with me."

The reactions of those gathered was rather telling, in its own way: Victor paled, Markus rolled his eyes, and Leljana simply blinked.

____

From his point of observation, Simon made pains to try and keep focus on each of the three lieutenants' thoughts. Most of what he picked up was to be expected. Flashes of worry, impatience and annoyance. There was the occasional moment of amusement at the quips that passed between Marlowe and Gadhavi. Leljana, it seemed, was content to say nothing.

That was enough for Simon to, for a moment, turn his focus onto her specifically. The stoically silent lieutenant surely had to be thinking about something in relative depth, given her pointed quiet.

____

It was wise of Simon to focus on the quiet Stovak that sat opposite of the Diva's two other lieutenants, as it was only Devika's psychic aide that could glean a hint of what the woman otherwise kept strictly to herself. Leljana Matić was well-aware of Simon's nature and knew that the whelp was more than likely listening at any given time, behind some door or wall of bodyguards, perhaps the most deadly of the Diva's ears and eyes, but despite her personal discipline, her mental fortitude, her heart got the better of her when she regarded her highness - just as Matić did now. The sharply-dressed woman could hardly help it, given the way that the Soruk spoke so dismissively of grave danger, how she so gracefully articulated her points and concerns and rose above the rank and file with her elegant poise alone, her narrowed eyes drawing down over the baroness' sublime form.

It was moments like these that Leljana knew just how much she hated that creature.

"They speak to me often enough." She murmured, accent still plain in her voice despite the years she had spent on Neu-Lumen, "So many cry wolf the second they see a whore, I don't think the Zivilwächter takes me seriously anymore." What could have been a statement laced with humor from anyone else came off as cold, almost clinical, from the woman who oversaw House Arqa's human resources, a department that her highness took a deal more literally than so many others. A nearly predatory glance was shot at the other Soruk in the room, Gadhavi falling under her hostile, steel gaze. "As I recall, mister Gadhavi, you assigned Beeman to that detail, if I am not mistaken." Were it that Leljana dared to speak in such bold terms, she knew for a fact that she was not - which Markus soon confirmed with a plain nod.

"That I did," He admitted freely, unperturbed by the Vitestovakian's passive-aggressive tone, barely keeping himself from shrugging as he took another drag off of the cigar he still nursed, his riposte emerging from a preamble of smoke. "And as I recall you recruited him. Take that as you will, miss Matić." But just as her words had little effect on Markus, so did Markus' words have little effect on Leljana, though her dour expression aided the illusion that Gadhavi left that small engagement as the victor. "Regardless, your highness," Gadhavi began again, leaving the previous topic behind, "You know we take our work quite seriously, we understand the risks entailed - why warn us?"

"Because I trust these cretins as much as the Kampfs trust the Assembly." The Diva's words were quick, delivered with an edge that betrayed her own concern, her relaxed tone evaporating as her expression moved away from the confident, alluring calm of the Inner Empire's premier sex-symbol to that of the head of House Arqa, her imperial features dominated by the stern determination of her forefathers. "They speak of honor and honesty until someone puts the slightest scrap of food under their snouts. We must minimize this risk and contain what damage our laxity has spawned." A bold statement, one that meant something different to each of those gathered, united by one condition.

Markus was the first to speak up in the wake of her small tirade, crossing his legs now as he confirmed what he assumed to be the unspoken task presented to them. "Shall I see to it?" Marlowe paid him a brief, almost disgusted glance, but there was gratitude in his face as much as there was disdain - the Azrican knew that he was not cut out for such work, and was thankful that people like Gadhavi or Matić stood by ready to take such matters into their own hands. "I know I might not be the first choice, considering-"

"You'll each see to this matter in turn." The Baroness looked between the trio, "But yes, Markus, should we have to you will see to it, but until that is our only option, Leljana - perhaps this can be dealt with without the need for violence?" The stoic Stovak only offered a single word, the shrug she refused to make with her shoulders more than evident in her voice.

"Perhaps."

The general director of the Diva's affairs was almost lost in these half-spoken matters, grateful as he might have been to be largely excluded, though he couldn't help what curiosity he did feel as to his own part. "Baroness?" Marlowe didn't even need ask what was on his mind as Devika provided the answer readily enough, almost amused by Victor's concern. He had been the steward of her house for decades now, a near-constant presence in the affairs of Arqa and a welcome advisor - in a way, he was the younger brother she never had, and were it one watched the two with such in mind, they made infinitely more sense.

"Placate them, Victor - the police, not the lurkers." Some semblance of her good mood returned with that brief jest, a finger raised on that note, "Discounts, PR campaigns, Hell, throw money at their charities. There are, after all, four more families who could use the financial support now." Beyond that were bribes and more sordid methods of smoothing over the rift that might have formed from these four bodies, but there was no need to say such things aloud.

"We'll hash out the specifics later, Victor."

____

It brought a wry smirk to Simon's face that Matić was thinking of his observation even as he carried it out. He was well used to being disdained by many of Devika's cabal, and he found that he couldn't blame them. At the Diva's whim, he violated the sanctity of their private thoughts, helping her police even their unspoken desires.

He could understand why the guarded and steely Leljana found that so abhorrent.

There were no thoughts of treachery in the woman's mind, but lust and desire were fickle creatures. There was no telling what they might lead a woman in such a position to do, what reasons they might concoct that such an act might bring those desires closer to fruition.

For now, though, he turned his mind onto the others. Victor, first. The pencil-pusher, as Gadhavi so affectionately thought of him, was undoubtedly the most nervous of the three in the room. That was as likely to be because he preferred very much to ignore the messier aspects of Devika's business as anything else, but it would also mean his mind was more active, less shielded by discipline.

If he was worried about any intentional sabotage being discovered, Simon suspected it would be at the forefront of his mind.

Markus was left for last. 'Hakis' was doing an excellent job at remaining nonchalant, if he had something to hide. Still, a man in his branch of the business would have to be good at keeping his cool under pressure. In truth, Simon was more than a little intimidated by the Soruk - how easily he spoke of the death of children. He had no particular desire to get further inside that mind.

Still, he'd do it. He didn't fancy explaining to Devika that he'd given the man a free pass out of squeamishness.

He hadn't expected this to be easy, but thus far he wasn't sure he'd managed to glean anything useful. Hopefully Devika would be able to make better use of what he had read from the trio than he could. There was a reason it wasn't usually his job to draw conclusions, after all. He couldn't keep up with the web of intrigue and politics surrounding the Diva, even with only his periphery involvement. He still didn't consider it his world. The day he could did be the day he'd finally left Simon Brandt behind for good, and as far as he was concerned, that day could wait for a long time.

____

The Azrican sat silent for a few moments, unclear to all whether this lull in his usually-quick wit came out of his own apprehension at the situation that presented itself before them, or if it was simply relief that his hands would stay largely clean in this whole affair. Given, he reminded himself, in the eyes of some, a bribe was even worse than murder, and Marlowe was not keen in the slightest to spend any time, much less a decade or two, in the service of the throne in the penal legions. But at least he was not alone in his silence - Leljana remained much as she was, and Markus puffed quietly on his cigar, keen to sit back and speak when bidden to - until the steward decided to break it, "Is that all, your highness?" His words were tired, his mind already laboring with thoughts of how best to perform his duty, and how best to minimize the risk to himself.

The Diva recrossed her legs at that, dress shimmering in what little light shone in the office, paying a brief amethyst glance to her other two lieutenants before looking back to Victor. "I believe so, if your duty is clear." She waited just a moment after that, taking in the expressions of those gathered before reiterating, quite plainly, what it was that needed to be done. "Miss Matić, find and secure these lurkers, where ever they are - see if we can take them without making things look any more suspicious. Pending whether that goes smoothly or not, mister Gadhavi, if they haven't been found, find them and kill them." They were lurkers, the absolute dregs of society, no one would mourn a few dozen more dead - Leljana's people could easily replace their number. "Lastly, Victor, make sure the police aren't interested. Summaries aside, are we understood?"

"Yes." Came the cold offering from the Stovak.

"Of course, your highness." Repeated Marlowe.

"Na klar." Spoke Markus, the last of the three, after a brief glance to the coffee table at the rather blatant and overly simple summation of his task, reaching to snub the cigarra he'd been nursing out in the ash tray there, no small frustration present in his brow at having to find a specific breed of lurker somewhere in the depths of Neu-Lumen, pending that Leljana did not. It wasn't the killing that bothered him - the legion had seen to fixing that - but simply the legwork, figuratively and literally. "Anything else?" He soon asked, his common brown gaze meeting with that of the amaranthine goddess before them, his question genuine, knowing the work that now lay before him.

"No," She murmured, a brief shake of her head seeming far more grand given the excessive styling that had gone into her hair, "It's late, and we start on rectifying this situation tomorrow. You're free to go." With that the trio stood, some, like Markus and Victor, looking a deal more frustrated or apprehensive with this than their compatriot, though all three did offer the woman a bow, recognizing that, above all else, they were in the service of a noblewoman and her most illustrious house. The Diva remained where she was throughout this small ritual, unmoving and unmoved, staring still at some distant, vague corner of her office as they filed out, until Victor's grumbling and Markus' audible shrugging were locked away outside of her automatic doors, the metallic seal of which bathing the room in silence once again.

Only then did she rise, this time slowly, without much of the grace or poise she'd bothered to show earlier, standing at her full height soon enough, the heels that could be occasionally glimpsed from underneath the skirt of her dress clicking boldly in the quiet space of her office. Gently enough she ran her fingers across the opposite hand, drawing them over her gloved palm as her eyes fell to the twisted, smoldering remains of Markus' vice, lingering on that site for several moments before she bothered to turn away, moving gingerly towards the massive windows that overlooked her jewel - her Aurora. Still did the denizens of this world flock here at this late hour, but it lacked the fervor that it possessed just an hour earlier when she had spoken with Oswald, though she knew that a muted environment like this attracted a demographic all its own. With a sigh of her own she simply nodded at the thought, her voice far less authoritative now that those that needed to be kept in line were absent.

"You can come out now, Simon."

____

The hidden door swung silently open, and Simon stepped tentatively into the office. The thoughts of Devika's lieutenants were gone, leaving him alone with the peace of his own mind. No matter how many times he did it, listening to another person's thoughts never felt natural. It was always a relief when he could withdraw to mental solitude.

As the door closed behind him, he lingered uncertainly at a distance before stepping forwards. He didn't move to join the Diva at the windows, but rather stayed by the chairs where the lieutenants had been sitting.

"None of them gave away anything immediately incriminating," he said after a moment, getting straight to the point. "At least Leljana suspected I was listening in." His jaw set at the memory of her disdain towards him. "All I could glean from her was a ... quite particular admiration of you, my lady. And of your..." he hesitated, awkwardly thumbing his sleeve "...er, form."

He moved quickly on to the other two, to avoid lingering on that point too long. "Viktor's thoughts were mostly transparent, near as I could tell. The moment you told him what to do, his thoughts were of how best to do it... whilst avoiding any risk to himself, mind. And Markus..." Simon grimaced. "He just seemed frustrated at the effort that finding the... children, would take." Saying it aloud was difficult. The young psychic was far from desensitised enough to be able to talk of the death of children without feeling a little sick.

The information wasn't much. He knew that. He only hoped it wasn't too much less than Devika had been expecting. "I can go into more detail, if you want. But they were all being careful. I think they all knew I was most likely here."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Calcos

Just as Simon was finished relaying what he had gleaned from the minds of those present in the meeting, there came a sudden gentle knock upon the door before Jason let himself into the office. Closing the door behind him, he took a gander about the room, looking into the faces of Devika and Simon, respectively, before taking a few steps forward. "I apologize for my tardiness; I was caught up in traffic," he said. Of course, Devika would know the statement was in jest, as Jason didn't drive.

Taking scope of his surroundings, Jason noticed the dead body in the corner of the office. Hardly surprised, he decided to ignore the cadaver and focus on the matter at hand. "So, what did I miss?" he said, crossing his arms across his chest and shifting his weight onto his left leg, leaning into a more comfortable stance.