From Marz, With Love

[Nyloh Heat]

Nyloh stood on top of the skyscraper, overlooking Hell, with an artificial Heaven above. The Nuero-Saav building wasn't nearly the tallest on Coruscant but it stood out in the skyline nonetheless. Nuero-Saav had flourished under the economy established by the Empire and its numerous wars in the name of peace and security. Not to mention, in the Empire, if you paid enough, the Empire would simply assume that if it cost that much to you, it must be for the best.

But the market, the government, everything ran like water in a river, everything was fluid. It would all change, the government would change, the market would rise and fall, Nuero-Saav, given enough time would be nothing but a statistic and even after that, nothing at all. But something that was a constant, always there, regardless of the time, like a stone that stands firm and diverts the current. The collective instinct of predator and prey, the thrill of the kill and the hunt, death itself was unwavering. Heat feared not the change of time because something was always found and then needed to be killed. In fact, they'd never stop finding things to be killed.

Vick Malcrum was the next to die and Marz Reno was paying the bill. Not that anyone but Z'blythe the Noghri, Marz Reno, and Nyloh Heat knew that. And not even Z'blythe or Reno knew when Malcrum would die exactly, that had been left up to Nyloh. He'd told Reno three days. That had been two days ago.

Heat moved away from the edge and ran his final diagnostic. His powersuit was not designed as a juggernaut or gave titan like abilities. His suit used a modern style with a Mandalorian overlay to create an agile suit designed for stealth, infiltration, and sheer speed. Nyloh had proof that by using the suit his speed and reflexes were on par with an adept but his physical strength remained his own to be responsible for and not the suit. It had a number of devices that had been implemented after Heat had learned to engineer Mandalorian technology into his suit while he survived in the Wilds of Iziz. All together, Heat had attempted to make the perfect companion tool to suit his hunting career.

The visor was locked back while Heat resealed the segments and armor plating. He ran a functions check and then insured his sword was firmly sheathed and locked in place. The visor hissed as it slid forward, the three pieces that made it clicking as they locked and the HUD came to life in that moment. The HUD ran its diagnostic and gave Nyloh a green for all systems. Heat gave a moment for the receptor of the face plate to cool, as it would glow a bright orange upon starting up and needed a few moments to regulate itself.

Nyloh had no complaints to the wait. The breeze at this altitude was nice enough the Heat could feel it though his suit and he was glad for the moment to space out. Heat appreciated those silent spaces of time in which nothing seemed to be happening but for stalling until the next dilemma appeared. This mission had a number of unknown variables but Heat would take it in stride, assuming if anything bad could happen, it would.

[Nyloh Heat]

The suit confirmed that it had finished its diagnostics and adjustments finally, was set according to enviromental standards, and all scanning angles were good to go. Nyloh sighed as he flexed and unflexed his muscles, the suit tightening to his form accordingly. Making sure he was comfortable, and that he relatively knew what he was doing, Nyloh Heat burst into a sprinting blur and then he leaped off the building. He flipped in the air, twisting his body with his momentum as his neural implant allowed him to activate one of the many accessories on his powersuit. The magnetic lock kicked as he willed it to do so and the suit instantly felt like it was being pulled down. Down was actually in a horizontal sense as Heat landed and was running down the side of the building. The planet surface below him wasn't even visible in the darkness, beyond the rivers of traffic and lights. Heat was trying to keep track of the number of floors he was passing while trying to ignore the extreme height. There were no footholds if the magnetic lock gave out, there was nothing to save him really at all. The fall would probably be nice and relaxing once he accepted the fact that he was dead, maybe.

76th... 75th... 74th... 73rd... 72nd Floor!

Nyloh turned sharply, jumped up, still in a horizontal sense, turning his body so that he faced the window he was not in front of, and held out his hand. A black spike shot from his wrist, a cable attached to it, and pierced the glass cleanly, not even really cracking the window in the process. The spike hit the wall and sunk in, a blue flash lit up the room right before when the cord yanked forcefully and Nyloh was painfully slung into the room like a sling shot. He still made a somewhat graceful roll as the glass sunk into the corporate carpet around him.

The spike retracted its supports from the wall and the cable zipped itself back into his gauntlet. He looked around and with satisfaction, took note of the very blank emptiness of the room. It was a private office, formerly used by a market lobbyist who had recently been fired by Malcrum. No one had taken the position yet and Nyloh, after taking some work to the blueprints, had determined it would be exactly as it was now.

A line dropped down his HUD, from top to bottom, and as it passed his vision, the world changed. The room became a wireframe layover of its original representation as the blueprints were put into 3D perspective. Heat was taking his time here as well, any security system had just been fried by the EMP the spike had delivered upon entry. He had another two minutes or so before any systems might automatically reboot.

[Marz Reno]

Day three and still no word. The anxiety was fueling the warhead that was his migraine. No. Seriously. The day so far had culminated in a neural traffic collision. As far as Marz knew, Malcrum was still trucking around unheeded. At this point no news was bad news. Come eight hours from now if Marz was still void of information, he would send the Noghri to dispose of Mr. Heat. Right now he began to hate the aspect of lackeys as he walked towards the main lobby. He wanted to waltz up to the top floor himself and stick it to the pompous chump. Unfortunately the worlds oldest cliche phrase, 'if you want something done you have to do it yourself', is only partially valid. In the business industry, an armada of goons is essential. One can never have enough.

The new information specialist Louli'm, or "clerk" as Marz constantly referred to them as, was working for Lilith at the reception desk this early afternoon. She wouldn't pester him with reminders of three and four o'clock conference screens. The three was rather important; a new contract was opening up with a sister company and he had to be there to ensure a smooth transition. It was just more garbage that he had to pile ontop of his increasing paranoia. He walked out the large green glass doors of Neuro-Saav as a throng of people came clamoring in. More trash. Only inspectors and prospective investors traveled in packs like that. If he were in Malcrum's stead he'd make sure they were oh so accomodated.

His current destination was the Bright Lixz lounge off Terra avenue. Not just anyone could walk into this place. Serious credits were required, for it paid homage to some of the highest individuals on Coruscant. Regulars were widely known, and non regulars practically needed an invite for entry. It was one of the last joints in town where he could collect his thoughts. His office was rarely a place of solitude. Bright Lixz was only about 6 minutes via speeder, and the most effective form of transportation from the building was by taxi, and Marz despised taxis. They were a breeding ground for the sick and wretched vagabonds of the city streets. During every trip he couldn't help but think about what nasty ordeals went down in the backseat that harbored him. The whole system was odious. He hated it. If Marz wasn't fond of his cabi, he'd have a friend of his pull their penchants. He never brought Z'blythe along on such trips. The Noghri didn't blend well in such places, even with his robed attire. Such was his fate. If Marz needed him all he had to do was hitch his collar and Z'blythe would be on his way, which was something he'd be doing shortly if Mr. Heat remained out of contact.

Marz flagged the next cab and headed on his sufferable way towards Terra avenue.

[Nyloh Heat]

The Stealth field generator was active and running as Heat moved into the hallway. The hallway was void of life and easy to maneuver through as he followed his preset directions. The maintenance access was locked as expected, requiring a keycard that Nyloh didn't have. In spite of that, Nyloh did have a card especially prepared for these kind of situations. The card had a small hacking program in it that could imitate most generic card security systems. They were one time uses however and he only had three of them.

The stealth field generator fizzled slightly as Heat inserted the card into the reader. Interacting with other objects strained the generator and caused its efficiency to decrease during that time. As soon as the card was withdrawn, the buzzing noise ceased and the field resumed its original output.

The maintenance access was small and cramped as expected, but it was also an unmonitored point that stretched along the entire length of the turbolifts from the top of the building to the the 59th floor where this column of turbolifts stopped.

The climb would require some endurance. Catching a ride on a turbolift was too dangerous and while climbing up a series of ladders up 13 floors might seem a lot, Nyloh had the time to spare. Its not like Malcrum was going to be a galactic olympic fighter or anything.

Heat waited for the door to seal and lock behind him before he began to scale the first ladder. Each ladder was mounted to the wall and went up three stories. He sighed before looking up, judging the right distance and effort required. His knees bent slightly, one hand rested on a rung, and then suddenly, Nyloh launched about half way up the first ladder and was climbing. Reaching the top of the first ladder, he leaped the small space to the next ladder on the other wall.

[Marz Reno]

The cab ride was slightly short of entertaining. The cabi was a scruffy human, probably hadn't cleaned himself in several days. He didn't have too much to say either. It was a simple drive, one that involved shifting up to some of the loftier levels of traffic in T-06. Traffic was thinner here compared to some of the more populated zones of Coruscant. The colossal factories weren't exactly tourist attractions. Marz never really had the patience for sleezy civilian traffic anyways. He preferred escorts; to travel in the wake of the high and mighty, not with the slobs and dregs of the planet.

"Hea we aw!" spat the driver through his teeth as the cab stopped.

The ride to Terra was exactly as he predicted: 6 minutes. He paid his fare to the shoddy driver and stepped out onto the crome platform before the Bright Lixz.

The architecture was far from flashy. No blinking neon or strobe lights or outlandishly long lentry lines. There was only but one bouncer on a simple backdrop today that Marz was familiar with.

They called him Nigma. He was a Twi'lek of medium build. He wore a band over his right eye and generally wore what appeared to be a black tarp. His bulbous head hung down his back. Nigma wasn't exactly a bouncer in the sense that he would bounce you off the walkway, removing you from the vicinity. He would simply shatter the violator with his custom blaster. Marz knew he packed serious heat, he'd seen people delt with quite often. It was amusing.

"How eez it today Mr. Reno?"

"Just fine. You keeping out of trouble?" replied Marz.

The Twi'lek shrugged as Marz slipped him the hefty fee for admittance into the Bright Lixz. His dimples curled into a sick grin as he thought about all the people he'd like to see Nigma bounce. It almost made him forget about the more pressing matters at hand. Nyloh and Vick. So much was riding on it that Marz was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. This place was supposed to ease his angst, not heighten it. He shoved the delusion aside and pushed in the crome doors of the lounge.

[Nyloh Heat]

By the time Nyloh finished, he wasn't exhausted but that empty room he entered would've still been more convenient several floors up instead. He leaned against the wall, resting for a moment. He wasn't resting for long before the turbolift shaft beside him was illuminated. The doors opened to the hallway he was intended to go into and he could hear voices.

"Malcrum's business strategies are ambitious."

"Maybe too ambitious for the market."

"Well I was thinking it was more against trade policies in general anyways."

"I think you two are forgetting that Malcrum is the only corporate executive that has eluded thus far and gotten away with most of his illegal business transactions, regardless of the several trials we have put him up for. We need to be careful, going in there."

"Right..."

The conversation continued as the three men headed away from the turbolift and out of Nyloh's hearing. Great, politics... Heat was now wondering whether or not killing them would be beneficial or not to Reno's plans. Honestly, Heat hadn't the faintest idea about business and market politics and determined it was better to just play it safe as these men involved Malcrum and might draw attention to his death, when it happened that is. However they did offer an oppurtunity...

The maintenance door opened as Nyloh passed through it, his stealth field generator operational. He kept a distance from the three men but followed close enough to not lose them by any means. He wanted to just follow them right into the office; all other security had been more or less bypassed. This entire floor was practically Malcrum's office, it was supposed to be hard to get on this floor.

And Nyloh was walking through the front door of it; the secretary at the desk let the three men without so much a word, as they were obviously expected and equally obviously disliked. Nyloh, however, slid against the wall inside, and found a corner to wait in. Malcrum was in the other room and would be joining the men in this room, supposedly the lounge, the richest Heat had ever seen, in a few moments. The men chattered on about some predicament, bad business, of course, and whatnot as Nyloh tuned it out.

[Marz Reno]

The club interior was simple by design but ornate in aesthetic. The walls were lined with a metal finish and low beam cyan lights that coalesced where the walls met the floor. The dim lighting was easy on the eyes and perfect for the setting. It was one of the reasons why Marz attributed so much to the place. To the left was a small corridor that branched off from the lobby. There was a gaggle of people crowding around someone or something in one of the doorways. Any other day that would have peeked his interest, but not now. Besides that crowd, the Bright Lixz was relatively empty. He walked past the fuddle and took a place on an authentic leather bar stool.

"What will you be having tonight sir?" asked an elegant sounding droid.

"A glass of Necr'ygor Omic will do."

Society always proclaimed drinking on the job to be a bad idea. When you're Marz Reno however, theres always exceptions to convention.

He stared contently at the label on the droid. It read:

-serVOBOTL300-
SID33j5819

The brand was all too familiar. Model L300 was the successor to last years G300. The only difference between the two was that the L300 had user customized voice functionality. Instead of the staple monotone droid vocal, customers could experience slang and jargons from thousands of races across the star system. Marz was clueless as to how they missed that one in the G version. He knew the individual responsible in the labor division of IA that put the droid on the forefront of bars and clubs all over the galaxy. Bright guy. Marz wondered if the man was in a predicament similar to his own: staging a coup on higher authority type figures. Probably not. The powers that be only look down on Marz Reno. There'd be a lot of heat to take if the operation didn't execute precisely. Perhaps so much that he'd have to go underground for a while.

33j5819 brought Marz his wine while he tried to place his thoughts elsewhere.