Severe Chapter II - Serotonin Wars

[Soraya Taveres]

<font size=1>[OOC: Precursor to a war between two rival gangs. All are welcome to join, but if you play a Force-user, please try to limit the use of your powers to a minimum.]</font>

It was a small underground bar, with the number of patrons being smaller still, situated in the very midst of Coruscant's lower levels. The narrow streets above, carpeted with filth, held no signs whatsoever to indicate its exact location or even suggest that it existed - which was just as well, because the tavern's owners chose only to cater to a select few.

As the pair descended down the unsteady steps leading down into the actual bar, they were immediately hit by the putrid stench of alcohol and other, fouler substances. The place was shoddy and lacking of any professional management, being as it was an unimportant outlet for Rath's shady underground business. Soraya's contact had directed her to this building in particular because its owner seldom, if ever, frequented it, so there was a reduced risk of her being recognized.

Not that anybody would find her remotely familiar in this guise: Soraya's blonde hair had been colored pitch black and arranged into temporary dreads, and her characteristically chic and vibrant wardrobe was replaced with a black vinyl corset and skirt. Her unusual attire, combined with her ivory complexion and black-painted lips, would make the model impossible to identify. Her companion Jake, widely known as Dead Sound, was also dressed uniquely for the undercover operation that ensued almost immediately after their brief meeting (http://www.swforums.net/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=25907) back at headquarters.

The interior of the bar offered little consolation. Ancabra's band-mates, together with a few dazed eccentrics who were presumably returning customers - clienteles that rightfully belonged to Severe - lounged about the cramped space, sampling various products detrimental to their health. The atmosphere was sickly and lifeless. Every now and then a sharp note would be heard, sounding from the musicians who were tending to their individual instruments.

Soraya's artificial green irises scanned the room and eventually settled on one of these musicians. With Jake following silently on her heels, she quickly strode over to where the pallid man was sitting stooped over his bass and bent over, flicking his long jet-black hair away from his eyes. A flash of annoyance crossed over his features before coming to rest on her face, and his blunted expression changed to one of appreciation. Still, he eyed her warily.

"I'm looking for Mr. Idol," she said softly, voice significantly deeper than was natural for her.

[Hugh Millitie]

A rather attractive young thing strolls into the establishment and approaches one of the band members. Shes looking for "a Mr. Idol". Aren't we all!

The man was sitting on the other side of the small stage, with one leg up on the stage forming a small mountain with a tunnel running through it, whilst the other leg dangled and swayed over the edge of the cliff that was the metal-rimmed, gaffa-tape-ridden stage. He was wearing very little on top, and very much below that. His chest was visible, hairless and shining with sweat - it was quite a humid place - though his nipples were concealed by the loose-fitting fluffy waistcoat. His pants were baggy and navy-blue, whilst his boots were metal and rubber lined with silver glitter. His tall, fluffy hat sat atop his brow. His eyes were sunken and dead, and his lips black and grinning. His voice was menacing and malicious with words woven with deciet as he spoke to the pretty face and her friend from underneath the shadow created by thew rim of his hat combined with the dim of the lighting...

"Everybody who's anybody wants to see Taro Idol. I myself have the opportunity of seeing him every morning and every evening when I climb in and out of his bed. He's a strange sort of fellow - admirable yet strange. He's always thinking. And you never know what he's thinking until the last minute - by which time it's too late to do anything about it!"

Hugh cocked an eyebrow at her as he inclined his head to make eye contact.

"It all depends on who you are and what you want..."

[Dead Sound]

He snorted and bit his tongue to keep from laughing. This man looked like an official circus freak. Usually this was when he made a smart remark, but today he remained quiet - after all, he did have a new identity when entering this place.

Jake had dyed his hair silver and wore a ripped black shirt, accompanied by loose brown pants - and, of course, the trenchcoat. It seemed like all the scum that inhabited this place just had to wear a black trenchcoat, for some strange reason.

Noticing when the "freak" looked at Soraya so intently, he rolled his eyes and looked in the other direction. A few people had noticed their presence, but others were so stoned that they were in their own little world.

"Come on, we don't have all night," he muttered, more to himself.

(EDIT: Argh, sorry about that ... had all of my information wrong.)

[Soraya Taveres]

[OOC: And I'm the one who gave you that wrong information... >_<]

"Ana Selanti," she replied confidently. Her gaze lifted up from the bassist, who in any case looked as though he'd received an overdose of something very pacifying, and landed instead on the rather... striking individual sitting on the edge of the stage. Jake was obviously repulsed, but neither the man's appearance nor his strange comments on Taro bothered Soraya in the least. She was used to these outlandish types - they were part of the norm in the fashion industry.

She observed him silently for a few more seconds before continuing, "Let's just say we're here to discuss business negotiations with him." It wasn't an unusual request, and those who had been listening in on their conversation now turned their attention elsewhere.

[Hugh Millitie]

"Delighted to meet you Ana."

He extended a hand towards her. She politely accepted it. But before the greeting ended, Hugh pulled it gently inwards and kissed her hand lightly...

"Most delighted!", he said with a slight grin.

Hugh flicked his eyes to the left and clicked his fingers in the direction of one of the band members, who responsively ran off backstage for some unknown reason. Then he let go of her hand a took a puff of his cigarra.

"Now tell me, if you don't mind, what this business may involve? Do understand that Mr. Idol is a very busy man and can't be bothered with petty dealings and whatnot."

The band member returned through the curtains and winked at Hugh, who nodded in acknowledgement.

[Soraya Taveres]

The corner of her lips curled upward in a slow smile at his chivalrous gesture. Soraya retracted her gloved hand from his and placed it on her hip, the metal studs embedded in the leather pressing against her tanned skin. Jake was uncharacteristically remaining silent, although this was warranted, given the circumstances. She was jeopardizing the safety of the entire group simply by being here.

"I understand, but you must also realize that the nature of our business is very confidential. Certainly not information we'd want to liberally disclose to any and all who ask," she said, her jaws clenching together lightly.

[Jacen Himes]

Jacen tugged on his mask to make sure it was on tight. Wouldn't want to reveal himself here, not when he was looking for business. He was armed to the tooth.

"What a swanky shin-dig."

"You're an idiot. The word swanky doesn't exist." :rolleyes

The voice came from a rectangular box clipped onto Jacen's belt. The only spot of interest on the object was the screen, which had a smiley face on it. One that's mouth moved.

"I don't read dictionaries, nerd."

This was supposedly a place of interest to those in the underground. Looked like a dump to Jacen.

"Hope they're fire water isn't chock full of whatever the locos here seem to be on."

"It's a fashion, lifestyle Jacen. Personally I don't see anything wrong with it. If morons want to do drugs and dress up, so be it.

"I don't like the idea of guys dressig up like chicks Smile. It throws my radar off," he snorted.

Jacen made his way to the bar.

"Give me anything with a straw."

[Hugh Millitie]

"I see..."

Hugh abruptly stood up, almost knocking the girl off her feet with his hat as it launched into the air. He ushered towards the band, who quickly began to unpack their gear ready for tonights gig. He then walked towards the curtains backwards, looking at Ana.

"Do walk this way!"

He pressed a button on the wall as he walked, which retracted the curtains. Hugh disappeared into the backstage areas.

[Jacen Himes]

"Jacen you irrepresible bafoon, look over at the stage." :Poke

Jacen patted his rectagle. He was busy arguing with the barkeep.

"Hold on Smile," Jacen said under his breath to Smiley. "What do you mean, you don't have something with a straw? What kind of rodeo clown, munchkin dance parade are you running here hotshot? Give me a Sherley Temple and give me it five minutes ago."

The bartender huffed and walked off. Jacen presumed it was to make his drink, which was most certainly not the case.

"What is it you old bastard?"

"The stage, Jacen, the stage." :headbash

Jacen swivled on his stool to face the stage. He saw there the women named Ana.

"Ooh, daddy like. Good eyes Smiles, good electronic, scarey smiley face eyes."

"A deal of some kind is obviously going about. Move closer so I can hear." :idea

"Right after I get my umbrella straw drink."

"Now." :shootin

"Okay, okay, geesh, you're an old stick in the clay."

"It's mud." :rolleyes

"Yeah right, how would mud get stuck in clay?"

Jacen got up from his seat and casually walked towards the stage. He weaved in and out, acting like he was searching for a seat. He found one the right proximity from the stage as not to attract unwanted attention.

[Dead Sound]

Finally, the questioning was over. Jake stifled a yawn with his hand and glanced at Soraya quickly. Her demeanor was calm and confident - but what was she really thinking?

"Do walk this way!"

The curtains had retracted, but went unnoticed by most of the inhabitents. Turning around, Jake swept his gaze over the others to make sure they weren't paying attention, and most of them weren't - except one. This man wasn't stoned or drunk, instead he was actually able to walk, and, above all - he wasn't dressed like a freak show. His eyes narrowed as he watched the man take a seat before turning around.

"Looks like we might have drawn some attention," he muttered to Soraya, his suspicions high.

[Soraya Taveres]

The musician Soraya had been standing beside grunted lowly and heaved himself to his feet, thought not without a considerable amount of effort. Slinging the strap of his bass guitar over his shoulder, the man trudged, rather disconcertedly, towards the steps leading onto the stage. Their guide had vanished somewhere behind the now assembled band.

She was about to follow on Millitie's heels when Jake diverted her attention to a figure that had discreetly moved within their hearing range. He contrasted starkly with the bar's decor - and in these parts, standing out wasn't necessarily a good thing. Soraya frowned ever-so faintly, and whispered into her companion's ear, "You stay out here and take care of our little comic book hero. Head back to the Candy Store if I'm not out within the hour." That said, the woman strode off after their host, not giving Dead Sound any chance of protesting; she didn't want to endanger him any further.

Once she was past the curtains, they were again pulled together, and the band swiftly - and brutally - launched into their first song. A quick glance backstage to locate Hugh, and soon Soraya had fallen into step alongside him.

"Might I ask how you are related to Mr. Idol, sir?"

[Hugh Millitie]

He stopped. Turned. Smiled. Grinned. Laughed. Not a full-blown laugh in her face. Just a little laugh he couldn't really stop once his eyes met hers. He lowered his glasses slightly, looking at her rather than at her.

"We're something of an unholy trinity. The three of us. Wait here please..."

He disappeared through a white door before she could reply. She was in a room. It was somewhat bright, like a dressing room. Perhaps it was where the band prepared before going on stage. Given the state of the stage and the club itself, the dressing room was quite clean, though a bit untidy due to the instruments and clothes lying around here and there.

[Taro Idol]

Several minutes have passed. After giving a few finishing touches to my hair and tie I open the door. She's still here. I don't blame her for not saying what this was about. I wonder where here behemoth of a bodyguard is. He looks like some kind of bouncer. Down the corridor I can hear the band launch into their first number of the evening, creating a rather atmospheric ambience for a conversation in such a place.

"Good evening Ana. I'm Taro Idol. What can I do for you?"

She turns around suddenly. Definitely not as attractive as Taja.

[Foxx Anton]

It wasn't particularly a job he enjoyed, especially with what it required to do to himself. Foxx was to watch over Soraya specifically, and what better way the two thought then to act as a couple. Ugh, look what they have me wearing. His gaze roamed over himself a moment, clad in a rather uncomfortable black jeans, a tight fitting black longsleeve with a trenchcoat overtop it all. Despite how he felt, his facial features hid well his distaste. His clothing wouldn't be enough though, he wore contacts to make eyes a dark grey, his hair colored a pitch black and grown out longer then typical. To add to the effect he spiked it up in various ways, for some reason his hair contributing drastically to his change of appearance. The part he hated most though was what Soraya made him do, ugh he had to wear make up to make his skin paler.

"Where is she?" His tone is quite silent and his eyes surveying the area in search of Soraya. Upon finding her once more he clings to her shadow, following somewhat out of sight and blending well, even as she continued into the back. Once they were within the office of Idol, he made his presence known, stepping up to her side and burying his hands within the pockets of his jeans, silent.