Morgan Evanar
Nov 4th, 2001, 07:57:27 AM
OOC: Its open, but you have to ask first. AIM: iWhoSaysNi
E-mail: foodman@mindspring.com
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Well, now that the fiasco with Sanis' artifact was over, Morgan was now two days overdue to see his accountant. He had been a "criminal," but he liked to see the NR get its due. It was trying for something right, so there was that and his quarterly update.
Gregor Trit was a mathematical wizard and even better at finding ways to get money to go where it needed to. "Accountant to the Rich and Obscure" was his title in circles that knew who he was. Morgan had the good fortune of meeting him in Advanced Number Theory, which Evanar was taking for his degree and Trit was taking as a freshman. Morgan wisely befriended Gregor, and had kept him out of trouble a few times when Gregor's wit turned against him.
They kept in touch after Morgan's luck turned sour for school, getting him involved in a less legal proffession. After ammassing a good deal of money and quite a bit of inside technology information, Morgan decided he wanted his money to be a bit safer and do a bit of work on it's own. In short: investment. Gregor was a logical choice, who had decided on a bussiness degree and also had an accounting degree and several certifications.
The deal was simple: Gregor got ten percent of whatever came in, and fifteen percent of the profit of a sold investment in the market. All parties involved were happy.
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Gregor's office was a 200th floor, 200 square meter suite in the corner of a respectable, somewhat upscale office building: Brickid Tower, a stylish afair that was equal parts duracrete and transparisteel, reaching 550 stories into the Coruscant's now twilight sky. Morgan didn't doddle at the lobby, and went right to the lift, putting in the code for Trit's office.
Once free of the confines of the lift, something felt off. Morgan shrugged it off, but kept it in mind. Fifty meters away, Gregor's door was open. Morgan rapped at it with his knuckles as he walked through.
"Gregor? You there?" There was a distant groan. Morgan walked into Gregor's office to find him neatly taped to one of his guest chairs using thermal patch tape. His head hung limp, and off to the left. He was breathing though, so at least he was alive. Gently, Morgan lifted his friend's head up.
"Gregor, can you hear me?" He could feel the spittle on Trit's chin, a side effect of a truth drug. Gregor's eyes rolled forward, completely dialated but now somewhat aware, and one was swelling shut.
Mumble "...yesss..." mumble mumble.
"Ok. I'm going to cut ya free." Morgan pulled an eight inch vibroblade from a belt sheath, and neatly sliced the tape so Gregor could get free. He promptly teetered out of the chair. Morgan picked him up and put him on the nearby couch. He found the refrigerator, got a chilled bottle of tea. Morgan held it up so his friend could take a sip, and put it back down.
"Who did this?" Trit coughed for a bit, and then settled. "Looked... CSA." He wheezed, and coughed again. Corporate Sector Authority. Grand. My past might be catching up with me and it looks like it found Gregor first.
"Gregor, I'm going to go across the street and buy some bacta patches and some med stuff. You going to be ok between then and now?"
"...yeah." Trit hacked and coughed a few more times, but managed to wave Morgan away. Wasting no time, the Jedi Knight bolted out the door, and ate the fifty meters up in twelve seconds. Once free of the elevator, he tore through the lobby and out into the Coruscant traffic.
E-mail: foodman@mindspring.com
---------
Well, now that the fiasco with Sanis' artifact was over, Morgan was now two days overdue to see his accountant. He had been a "criminal," but he liked to see the NR get its due. It was trying for something right, so there was that and his quarterly update.
Gregor Trit was a mathematical wizard and even better at finding ways to get money to go where it needed to. "Accountant to the Rich and Obscure" was his title in circles that knew who he was. Morgan had the good fortune of meeting him in Advanced Number Theory, which Evanar was taking for his degree and Trit was taking as a freshman. Morgan wisely befriended Gregor, and had kept him out of trouble a few times when Gregor's wit turned against him.
They kept in touch after Morgan's luck turned sour for school, getting him involved in a less legal proffession. After ammassing a good deal of money and quite a bit of inside technology information, Morgan decided he wanted his money to be a bit safer and do a bit of work on it's own. In short: investment. Gregor was a logical choice, who had decided on a bussiness degree and also had an accounting degree and several certifications.
The deal was simple: Gregor got ten percent of whatever came in, and fifteen percent of the profit of a sold investment in the market. All parties involved were happy.
------------
Gregor's office was a 200th floor, 200 square meter suite in the corner of a respectable, somewhat upscale office building: Brickid Tower, a stylish afair that was equal parts duracrete and transparisteel, reaching 550 stories into the Coruscant's now twilight sky. Morgan didn't doddle at the lobby, and went right to the lift, putting in the code for Trit's office.
Once free of the confines of the lift, something felt off. Morgan shrugged it off, but kept it in mind. Fifty meters away, Gregor's door was open. Morgan rapped at it with his knuckles as he walked through.
"Gregor? You there?" There was a distant groan. Morgan walked into Gregor's office to find him neatly taped to one of his guest chairs using thermal patch tape. His head hung limp, and off to the left. He was breathing though, so at least he was alive. Gently, Morgan lifted his friend's head up.
"Gregor, can you hear me?" He could feel the spittle on Trit's chin, a side effect of a truth drug. Gregor's eyes rolled forward, completely dialated but now somewhat aware, and one was swelling shut.
Mumble "...yesss..." mumble mumble.
"Ok. I'm going to cut ya free." Morgan pulled an eight inch vibroblade from a belt sheath, and neatly sliced the tape so Gregor could get free. He promptly teetered out of the chair. Morgan picked him up and put him on the nearby couch. He found the refrigerator, got a chilled bottle of tea. Morgan held it up so his friend could take a sip, and put it back down.
"Who did this?" Trit coughed for a bit, and then settled. "Looked... CSA." He wheezed, and coughed again. Corporate Sector Authority. Grand. My past might be catching up with me and it looks like it found Gregor first.
"Gregor, I'm going to go across the street and buy some bacta patches and some med stuff. You going to be ok between then and now?"
"...yeah." Trit hacked and coughed a few more times, but managed to wave Morgan away. Wasting no time, the Jedi Knight bolted out the door, and ate the fifty meters up in twelve seconds. Once free of the elevator, he tore through the lobby and out into the Coruscant traffic.