Nothing is certain. [Open/Jedi]

[Ishan Shade]

On Courcant, nothing is certain.

Ishan sat down in his dilapidated chair and spoke a short password into the comp vox, brining up a host of the latest galactic charts and planetary maps. He eyed them over and with a finger touched a pinprick of light. The pinprick enlarged into a slowly rotating sphere with its basic information hovering just to the side. He sat back in his chair watching the par dismal planet rotate, observing each strategic detail. Satisfied, he touched the sphere and it phased into thin air. Ishan had informants everywhere. A vital key to survival for someone in his line of work.

"Lord Shade," the view screen’s speaker rumbled with the voice of his newly appointed vice associate. He nodded and the view screen flashed on, depicting a thin, bald man of shallow stature and large green eyes that harbored deep pupils. "Vice Seraphi," he addressed him, expressing his placid smile of habit.

"Sir, the information you requested," prompted Seraphi, nodding in respect to the Fallen. Shade waved his hand slightly in jest, indicating for Seraphi to proceed. Obviously it would please him in his most miserable hour. "Of course, my vice associate, proceed." Ishan soothed his lackey. Unlike the hardball approach of the former Empire, Shade had learned over the years, if one paid handsomely for loyalty, it would decrease the risk of in-house assassination by disgruntled employees. Since the fall of the Empire, Shade Industries various "semi-legal" networks flooded with record breaking profits of an all-time high.

“The Greater Jedi Order has been investigating our actions in Courcant. I fear, my Lord, that they may stumble across something of valu..” Seraphi was cut short. “Enough.” Shade had heard just that. “I will be in contact.” The viewscreen faded.

The Jedi? Shade shook his emotions. He did not need the Jedi mingling around his Courcant offices.

“Starr.” Shade spoke into the air, “Ready my shuttle. I feel like going out tonight...”

[Marcus Telcontar]

The death stick was puffed on once more, before being tossed to the ground. A well worn boot stepped on the glowing tip and a twist of a heel. The boot was covered at the top by equally well worn pants that matched the rest of the attire. A simple cloak and hood set off the esemble, giving him a vargrant look - which was not contradicted if you saw the being's face under the hood. A lined, weatherbeaten one, a rough unshaven humaniod with long unkept hair. His eyes however were quick and sharp, one stare from them could make the strongest being wilt with their intensity and power they seemed to hint at.

And well they might. While his name was unknown (for he had deliberatly had all records of his existance erased and those who knew his name kept it and his existance secret), the eyes didn't lie. Here was a being of geniune power, a Jedi Master the likes that hadnt been seen since the fall of the Republic.

And even if the GJO were having a 'official' investigation of shade Industries, the Lost Jedi, being as he was an unknown and unrestricted by the Jedi Code, could do things they could not. Not without a good deal of trouble from the Council and the senate.

Like Marcus Elessar gave a hoot about the Council and the Senate. If the senate ever found out about him, he would show them how powerless they realyl were. and the council? well, what would they think if one of their Legends, thought to be long dead, was walking and acting exactly as he always did - looking to put the boot into dark siders and criminals.

They couldn't do anything either.

Just the way he liked it.

His feet began to move as he began to walk slowly, strolling outside. It would be nice and fittign to send the scum a message. a very obvious one that clearly said "Get out now". The question was, how to do it. save the GJO the trouble and manpower.

A bit of a smile came on his unseen face. He would come back tonight.

[Starr]

Starr sat quietly perched beside Shade Industries large industrial building that reached far into the night sky. The building itself was spectacular in design, and only one light - coming from Ishan's office - shown from it's grace. Starr didn't mind coming down to street level, after all...she had nothing to fear.

Courcant nights tended to be lonely for one such as herself, she leaned against the black granite stone and kept a watchful eye. And then....she noticed him. A lone figure, although not rare, was perculiar in the industrial area, especially at this time of night. His swagger, his presence, ...yes, he was very perculiar indeed.

"Are you lost?" Starr spoke towards the gentlemen. He undoubtly by now had laid eyes on her. She was blonde, athletic, undeniably beautiful--in fact, impossibly perfect in every way.

Perhaps the stranger would find it odd for a lady of her size to be on the streets at night alone....

[Marcus Telcontar]

"Nope"

Another death stick came to his hand and set to his mouth. A hand took out a matci, struck it on his tattered leather jerkin and lit the stick. His mind out of habit scanned the woman, reaching out to get a feel of her presence in the Force. And, oddly, found there wasn't one.

A droid! Wow, impressive human replicant. It must of set someone back a pretty credit

"Why, am I makign the place untidy?"

[Starr]

A slight glare lit his face, the match making his facial features flurish in the light for a brief moment. She scanned him briefly. No previous records found? Logic dictated to her that the man was probably no more than a homeless streetvendor.

"Why, am I making the place untidy?"

Starr scoffed before turning her gaze upon Courcant's bright horizon. Her eyes stay fixed on the nightlife in the distance, "A shame what Courcant has become. Overridden with homeless and the petty poor." She spoke more to herself than the man that had now made his way across the street. She cared little for carousing with the street scum.

[Marcus Telcontar]

"Yeah, pity indeed" he muttered, walking away.

It wasn't hard to work this out. Ishan Industries, outside with a rare as HRD. That would mean that it was theirs and he was being checked out. Which also meant someone was nervous. Obvoiusly they had wind of the Jedi investigation. Interesting they sent a droid too - they were not able to be tricked by The Force, even if they were unsuited to fighting Jedi. That menat illusions and hiding were out.

So a good old fashioned bit of trickery and fireworks was best.

--

An hour later, there was a speeder parked across the street - had beent here most of the day. It wasn't much, except for the fact it had full fuel cells. It also was a simple speeder to fly, which, in this case wasn't a bad thing - sitting ontop of a building about 400 meters away meant that mentally controlling it wasnt too hard. It was going to be a bit of a juggle, witht he bow and arrow he was aiming, but first things first...

He closed his eyes, felt the Force shift about him. With one touch of his mind, the speeder abrupty accelerated, lifting and crashing through a window. As it didnt have much of a space to accelerate, it could only go so far in. Just enough so that the arrow he fired, guided and helped along mentally, would spear the fuel cell. Of course an arrow wouldnt set it off - that was up to the thermal detonator attached to it.

"Oh pretty lights" he said.

Welcome to hell, scum. The Lost have just said hello

[Starr]

Starr had stood her post for almost 4 hours now, not that it mattered to her. Ishan was surely busy in his office investigating the Jedi interference. She pondered the possibilty of getting to confront a Jedi, something she so longed to do. Her skills in combat were unmatched, and she had yet to meet any enemy that was her equal in hand to hand combat. She knew a Jedi, and only a Jedi, would be her only opportunity at such a chess match. Perhaps one day...

The Courcant lights burned on, raging with the zigzags of traffic that lit the dark night. Starr continued her onlooking gaze of watchfulness.

The speeder that lay across the street came to life in a most unusual fasion. Starr turned her head just in time to see it slam into the side of the building that was adjacent to Shade Industries.

And then, she heard it. The moment it had been released she caught wind of it's presence. A mortar? Blaster fire? No. It was something small....but what? Her thoughts were inturrupted by an explosion that rocked the industrial main street. She was lifted, propelled and smacked into the same black granite stone she once had been perched on. Her body withstood the damage with ease but Starr knew something was dreadfully wrong. An assassination attempt? Possibly. Either way she wasted no time in flipping herself gracefully back onto her feet. The smoldering speeder lay ten meters from it's orginal position, and thick black smoke rolled toward the night sky. She took cover behind a large marble column, and reached for her radio reciever.

Someone was out there.

[Ishan Shade]

He sniffed the beverage in his glass, a vintage of the late planet of Alderaan. The bottle it came from had gone up over 500% in value since the destruction of the planet by Grand Moff Tarkin. It mattered little to Shade, money was a consideration for lesser beings. Ishan measured wealth, like an ancient devil, in the souls he possessed.

The Jedi investigation was lingering in his head. Did they think they could dare to interfere with his business? He would have someone's head for this inconvience. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. The small lamp that gave the office light still was visible from outside of the window.

Perhaps a visit to Arcan IV would sway them into nev.....BOOOOM.

The explosion rocked outside the stronghold and sent Ishan to an upright posture.

....what the devil?

[Marcus Telcontar]

The hour had been enough for him to change into the disguse of "The Messenger" as he liked to think of it - midnight black armour that he used to use when he was a Sith. It shone fromt he light of the flaming speeder as a minute later he drew near. The flames reflected off the visor, that hid his face from view and even scan. In his hand was a sabe, lit, pointed to the ground and to the side as he advanced.

He looked more like the Sith Lord he had once been, so many years ago. Now he had their attention, now was time to make the message clear. Some one important would be here by now. Maybe that droid even.

[Starr]

With comlink in hand she had no time to send a message to Ishan. She saw him, as he now advanced past the speeder in her direction. Starr noticed the weapon, a lightsaber, the familiar hum sent her into alert, as she reached for her blaster that lay tucked beneath her shirt. A sith? Impossible. She vaulted into a cartwheel that placed her near the entrance to the industrial stronghold.

She raised the blaster pistol with computer like percision and fired two single rounds towards the advancing menace. Her shots were dead on target, heading straight for the intruder's skull.

Time to die.

[Marcus Telcontar]

The Force warned him of the danger coming - he put his hand up, the blaster bolts seemingly stopping in a shower of sparks on his gloved palm. In reality, they hit a shield made of The Force.

"I have a message for your boss droid" he growled,the Force and the vox-box twisting his voice into something that was so unlike his own, it would be nearly impossible to spot any similarity, "Put the gun down now and listen or I will reprogram you with a lightsabre"

[Ishan Shade]

Starr's expression became hostile as she raised the blaster pistol again and steadied her brilliant aim.

"Enough!" Ishan's voice boomed outside the stronghold's entrance, carried by small speakers surronding the area. He had been monitoring everything from his office, and from the looks of this...being...he decided he had to intervene. Normally Starr would be more than capable to handle herself with anyone in the galaxy but Shade did not want to risk a fight between these two, Starr was far more valuable to him.

"Starr. Let this gentlemen in. 22nd Floor, room 2R3. If you wish to talk, then I will be waiting." Ishan cut the transmission short. I hope I'm not making a mistake.