Into The Lap Of ... ? [open]

[Vahid Hesam]

“I’m not sure how I got up onto the walkway in the first place.

I had arrived on Coruscant four days prior, and with help from Hk-83 and a mysterious benefactor in black had managed to escape the numbing bolts of what I could only assume was one of Lord Maelstroms henchmen. My escape had sent me running through the streets, my assassin droid on tow, through winding back alleys and bustling streets. In the end, I had lost all notions of whereabouts I was. Truth be told, even if I had some vague idea, it would have been useless. I was still without a map and although there were charts frequently placed about in the city that detailed key locations, they were little help.

What became apparent soon was that the droid and I could not wander the streets much longer. Already our funds were dwindling – we were down to our last credit chit, and I was beginning to regret the rather large meal I had treated myself to on the first night of my escape. I had not eaten for two days, since then. We had begun to look for board, but had so far had no luck. The higher class establishments turned me away, while the lower were simply to squalid even for me – and that’s saying a lot.

And so we wandered, wherever our feet would take us…”

Vahid Hesam could not blend in. He stuck out like a sore them. There was no niche on Coruscant that he could fit into, no matter where he looked. Beneath the heavy overcoat he wore, there were clothes that looked as though they had once been finery yet were shabby now. They were outlandish, and gave even the liberal minded people of Coruscant cause to question his motivations – especially when he was accompanied by such an expensive model of assassin droid.

The odd pair wandered along the walkway high above the stratus of many of the levels of Coruscant city, silent in thought. Hesam’s mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Selonia, and his younger brother Hadi. It seemed if they couldn’t even find a place to stay and a source of income, there would be no hope of ever returning to the Corellian system to find out the true fate of his sibling. His eyes were fixed on the mid-distance ahead, boots dragging.

“I never thought I’d say this,” he sighed, “but I’d rather be pushing dirt in the dens, with the sept leaders whips at my back, than here.”

“That is understandable, Vahid Hesam,” the droid replied, “Humanoids prefer routine to chaos. It is logical and natural for you to prefer being the whipping-boy of a Selonian, rather than a free man with an open road and limitless choices before him. Quite logical indeed.”

Hesam looked up with a frown. That droid had a smart mouth. A thought struck him then. If he wanted money for a ship, food and a home, he had something in his possession which he could sell to get enough credits – the droid! He had protected him, that was true, but Vahid had no ties to the mechanoid. He was sure that ’83 would slip away should the chance present itself, anyway. With a sudden spring in his step and a devious smile on his lips, he picked up his pace somewhat- only to find no ground beneath his feet. The Gados had stepped right off of the edge of the walk way.

“I felt my heart burn in my chest as the wind rushed around me. An uncontrollable yell burst past my lips as I saw the thousands of feet of nothing but air and metal beneath me, leading down into the lower cities. I thought, for a second, I heard a screech from HK above, but I doubted the droid would follow. I squeezed my eyes closed, as the wind began to sting them, and spread my arms in an attempt to slow my descent, so that I could try to grab onto something as I fell – but it was in vain. The coat I wore snapped away into the wind, leaving me in nothing but my boots and britches as I tumbled through the air.”

Life flashed before Hesam’s eyes, as he plummeted down to almost certain death. It seemed like to fall would never end, when all of a sudden, he crashed into something. A speeder had swooped out in front of him, perhaps unknowingly, and caught him on its bonnet. Unconscious, and no doubt with broken bones, he lay motionless on the front of the transport.

[Syren Wyssholt]

"Ahhh!"

Syren let out a yell of both surprise and shock as something suddenly slammed down relatively hard against the bonnet of her speeder. Eyes widen as she realizes, split-seconds later, that it's a ..

"Jumpin' bantha fleas! Where in the name of the Hutts did that come from!?"

So busy staring in disbelief at the body lying motionless atop of her speeder, she nearly slams into a building. Jerking back on the controls, she pulls the speeder straight up, which happens to be an added benefit for the carcass across the nose as it slides down towards the cabin itself. Working the controls quickly, the hatch slides back in the nick of time as the apparently lifeless hunk of meat kerplops haphazzardly into the passenger seat. Syren closes the hatch, glancing over to the figure a few times as she navigates her way out of the busy traffic and away from the highrises.

Some turns here and there, a few dips and roughly taken corners later, and she's away from the heart of the city. Now that adrenalin is under control, as well as her breathing, she reaches over to press the tips of two fingers against the side of the man's neck.

"Ugh. You reek of the force. It's a wonder that fall didn't kill you."

Her nose wrinkles upwards with disgust. Of course, she was once of the Dark Jedi so her reaction to feeling the force with this one is natural for her. It wasn't easy, but she managed to escape the path of the Dark Side and has been living a life of quiet serenity. Though it's a lonely life, atleast her mind isn't as clouded or jaded as it had been with the dark veil covering it.

She draws her hand away, wiping her fingers along the side of her pants; much like a child does after touching something gross and slimey. Grasping the control with that hand, she props the opposing elbow up against the door of the speeder, sliding her fingertips along her brows as a headache suddenly makes its presence known right behind her eyes.

"All those years I spent hunting your kind - never once did one just fall from the sky - unconscious - and into my lap. I should just kill it now. One less force user in the galaxy and I doubt anyone would miss it or care."

So maybe not all traces of darkness are escapable. Yet, she restrains herself. It'd be so easy to just climb high into the sky, open the hatch and roll the speeder to send the carcass plummeting back to the surface. Or to remove the dagger she carries in her boot and slit its throat. Then again, that would mess up the interior when the blood sprays all over the place.

Why she heads off towards her secluded retreat estate - well, its more like a cozy penthouse than an estate - she doesn't know. Skimming the rooftops, the speeder is set down upon one that actually has greenery covering it. She likes foliage and tending to the plantlife here on the rooftop hasn't been easy but its kept her mind focused on something other than the need to seek retribution against those in her past.

After shutting down the speeder and popping the hatch, she gets out and leaves the body lying in the passenger seat. With a casual saunter, she strides away and seems to vanish within the thick plants scattered about. Humming a song from her past, she begins watering the greenery. Sure, the useless chunk of meat lying unconscious in her speeder could awaken at any moment and steal it, but somehow, she believes it won't do that.

Having been noticed on the monitors inside of her penthouse, her droid tinkers into the greenhouse-like area.

"Mistress, you return earlier than expected. I apologize as your meal is not ready just yet."

"I'm not hungry. Go over to the speeder and see what followed me home. If it's dead, dump it down the trash shoot. If it's alive ..."

Syren shrugs, not caring about what is done with it if it's alive. The droid tinkers over to the speeder and runs preliminary bioscans over the unconscious body.

"Mistress, this lifeform is injured. Several of areas of its skeleton appear to be broken. If you wish, I could get one of the carts and carry the lifeform inside. It would be easier to tend to it."

Syren, watering a beautiful tree in full bloom, stops and turns dark soul-less eyes to the droid.

"And why would I want you to do that?"

The rounded eyes of the droid flash, equivalent to a human blinking in wonder or perhaps astonishment.

"Well, Mistress - because its alive and it needs healing."

Syren's dark gaze slowly wanders from the droid to the speeder. She sighs as if exasperated and shakes her head.

"Whatever. I don't care. Do what you want with it. And no, you cannot keep it as a pet! I am not paying extra for a pet deposit. Besides, it'd ruin the carpets."

Yes, she is serious. Syren is fully human and for some strange reason, her serving droid has a glitch that makes it want a pet of its own. It's a wonder Syren hasn't disassembled the droid and toted it off as scrap. But, that personality quirk makes the droid seem more - human - and -perhaps that is just what Syren subconsciously needs in her life.

The droid toddles off and returns with a grav-cart which is normally used for carrying totes of flowering bushes and trees around in the rooftop garden. Carefully, the droid lifts the body from the speeder and lays it out flat on the grav-bed, then she guides it inside.

The lighting is kept dim inside, just a soft illumination which adds an odd tranquility to the room. Plush black carpeting covers the hardwood floor. Typical furnishings adorn the living area - couch, sofa, chairs, conversation table and end tables, etc, in the color of deep red; silver accents added here and there throughout the room.

Leaving the body on the gravcart, the droid goes about preparing the guest bedroom. When finished, the body of the fallen one is brought in there and carefully moved to the bed. The droid spends the next few hours tending to the medical necessities - setting broken bones, establishing IV's to get fluids, pain killers and antibiotics flowing trough the blood-stream.

When the droid has done all that she can, she informs Syren of just that. Syren steps inside, gets herself something to drink then leans against the doorframe of the guest bedroom - just looking at the person laid out on the bed.

[Vahid Hesam]

“It seemed to have become a habit of mine to wake up in foreign places, with no recollection of arriving there. The first time it had happened, I had opened my eyes to see the stainless steel walls of a medical bay. This time, it was the interior of a rather lavish looking room. I felt my body tingling, waking from a numb state. A sensation of dizziness and confusion receded from my mind and I recalled my fall from the rooftops. How had I survived? My body should have felt battered and bruised- yet other than a mild prickling here and there, it felt perfectly normal – better than normal, in fact, and cleaner than it had done in months. More importantly, how had I ended up in this room? Had another mysterious benefactor saved my life?

I began to see more clearly now. I got a better look my surroundings. I began to wonder who it was that had brought me here and apparently tended to my injuries, or if I’d even fallen at all- had I dreamt it all… was this a dream. It was then that I noted I was not alone. I sat up, then, with a start. I looked directly at the woman watching me, my hands subconsciously tracing the bandage that was wrapped across my chest before feeling for the familiar and reassuring scar on the back of my head, that told me I was who I thought I was. Another panicked glance and my fears that I had lost sight of HK-83 were affirmed. Had he fallen? I doubted his selflessness extended to that length, and if it did, I doubted even further the ability of modern technology to put together a droid after such a fall.

I needed to find out what was going on, and whether or not I’d need to make another hasty escape.”

“Where am I?” Vahid asked, slightly wide eyed as he pushed a few stray strands of dark hair away from his face,

“Who are you? What happened?”

[Syren Wyssholt]

Syren sips languidly at the tapcafe, simply watching the man in her guestbed. As she swallows, a breath is snorted from her nostrils and she motions towards him with a subtle movement from her hand.

"You are in my guest room, only because my droid has a need to help those who are in need of it. Besides, she wouldn't let me kill you."

Syren gives a light, dismissive shrug of her right shoulder then eases off of the door frame.

"Who I am matters not. As to what happened? You tell me. I was happily cruising along the skylanes in my speeder when you landed on the nose of it. Someone push you off a ledge or something?"

As Syren enters the room, so does her droid, practically pushing her Mistress out of her way.

"Oh slow down, Six. Your pet isn't going anywhere. Yet."

Syren muttered this to the droid, rolling her eyes and shaking her head some. As Six fawns over the human male lying/sitting naked (yes, the droid has taken the clothing he was wearing to wash them) but covered by a sheet, in the bed. Syren nearly gags as she turns away from the display of motherly-tenderness Six shows to Vahim.

No, its not that the guy isn't good looking; on the contrary, he is damn good looking. But, he reeks of the Jedi.

"Ignore Six. She believes you to be her pet so she's going to coddle you to no end. Sickens me as I'd rather see you dead, but..."

Syren shrugs her shoulder again, then turns to step out of the bedroom via the double french-style doors and onto the patio. The fragrant aromas of her exotic flowers and plants waft into the guest bedroom.

[Vahid Hesam]

“Wait!”

“I called out, after the still nameless woman. It seemed she was happy with the answers she had given me – I most certainly was not. With a wave of one hand to shoo away the fussing droid, I sat myself up further and swung my legs down off of the side of the bed, noting then that I had apparently been undressed, quite possibly by the droid. Crimson flushed briefly in my cheeks before I gathered the bed sheets about my body, forming a crude sarong around my hips…”

Vahid stumbled forwards a few steps, before regaining his footing and becoming accustomed to walking with the sheets around his lower body. His face was a mask of confusion mixed with anger. It seemed likely to him now that this woman was a malefactor, not a potential ally, and that her efforts to help him had been because of more sinister motivations.

“Rather see me dead? Why? … And why would you allow the droid to help me, if that was the case?”

[Syren Wyssholt]

A darkened brow lofts quizzically as Syren side-glances to the bedroom, holding in the chuckle as she watches the man behave so modestly. 'Honestly, as if he has things I've never seen before.', she thinks to herself.

If Six hadn't known about the man in the speeder and happened to just be walking in on the two now, the droid might register this scene as two lovers who just got down and dirty in the sheets only to be having a lover's quarrel now after the heat of passion subsided.

However, and thankfully, that is not the case. Six minds her business and goes about moving some of the medical equipment from the room, leaving the two alone to speak.

"Because you stink like a Jedi. I allow the droid to do what keeps her circuits from overloading. I don't feel like having the oils and other lubricants which keep her motors going spilled over my carpets and she'd go balistic if I were to kill you now. Besides, she thinks you're her pet. That will keep her quite busy and out of my hair - so it's beneficial for me to not kill you, you see?"

Through all of her poise, cold words and uncaring stare, the man makes her quite nervous. Why? Several reasons, really. Syren looks away from him, walking over to examine the petals of a potted plant a few feet away.

[Vahid Hesam]

“Jedi? I frowned and paused a moment for beginning to follow. I had heard stories of Jedi, men who could do miracles with some kind of magical force. I hadn’t ever encountered one before, at least not to my knowledge, and so it perplexed me to think why this woman would have mistaken me for one. She didn’t seem to hold them in high regard, either, so I thought it best to correct her.”

“You have me mistaken for something I am not… I am no Jedi,” the Abraegado native said, “The only tricks I can do are juggling and acrobatics,” he added, with slight humor in his voice- he had worked in a circo-troupe as a child, after all. His species was well suited to leaps and dives, with their tightly wound bone and muscle structure

“The droid wanted me as a pet, apparently. Did that mean that this woman intended to keep me here? The humor drained from my complexion at the thought of this.”

[Syren Wyssholt]

"Tell me ... have you ever found that you can slow your descent, even by a fraction, when falling? If you say no, you're a liar. Judging by the injuries Six tells me that you sustained, you should have been killed upon impacting with the nose of my speeder."

Syren looks Vahid dead in the eyes, allowing the cold, emotionless stare to hold for a few seconds before returning her attention to the potted flowers.

"You're free to leave whenever you wish. Don't let Six's morbid desires stop you."

[Vahid Hesam]

“I can’t say I make a habit out of throwing myself off the top of buildings, so I wouldn’t know,” he retorted immediately, frustration ebbing into his voice. “I’m just as confused about how I survived the fall as you are, believe me.”

Once again passing a hand back through his hair, Vahid sighed.

“I was free to leave… but where would I go? I would wander more, of course, only now I was alone, and had no funds what so ever. I was sure to perish from cold, if nothing else. No, now it was time for me to capitalize on the good fortune I had received. Fate had dealt me bad hands thus far, perhaps now she would reward with me with something of more use...”

“You don’t… need any work done, do you?” he hazarded, “only I’ve apparently lost of all of my credits during the fall.”

[Syren Wyssholt]

"Hey, you never know. There are those in the universe who will do anything just for attention - including throwing themselves off of buildings."

Her own comment makes her smile - until she hears that blasted good-for-nothing droid teetering back.

"Mistress! Please can I keep him? Please!? He wants to stay! You heard him yourself. Please!?"

Syren's jaw tenses and her nose wrinkles as she grinds her teeth together hard, clenching a fist tightly. That stupid droid!!

"Good-bye, Six! Shoo! Now and NO YOU CANNOT KEEP HIM!"

Boy. That droid sure gets on her nerves at times. Six sighs, a mournful yet dead tone, as she waddles off; her metallic head hung low.

"I swear that I'm going to turn her into scrap the next time I have to go into the city."

Syren lets out an irritated breath through her nose while she crosses her arms beneath her chest, clearly agitated, then she looks to Vahid.

"No, I don't need any work done around here. As you can see, I do it all myself and the place is immaculate. And so what if you lost your credits during the fall. Should have thought about that before you decided to take a long walk off a short ledge, hm?"

Confounded!! The inner-voice deep in her mind keeps whispering that she's doomed to stroll down the dark path forever - she just needs to keep following the road she's so hesitant to take.

"Oh shut up.", she murmurs under her breath.

"Look. I apologize. I feel for you, really. It's just that I was quite content to live my own life in peace and not bothering anyone then suddenly you nose-dive onto my speeder! For some reason unknown even to myself, I couldn't just kill you - though I really wanted to - and now you're looking for a hand-out?!"

A deep sigh and she turns, looking at the other plants, flowers and small trees settled around the perimeter of the rooftop balcony. Then, against her better judgement and will, she asks him a question.

"What's your name? And while you're stating that, how about telling me your story? Maybe I can help you. Why? I don't know, but maybe I can."

Syren turns slightly, looking to Vahid. As her eyes wander over the half-naked man, she finds that she kind of pities him. Kind of.

"Come to think of it - maybe Six could use your help.

[Vahid Hesam]

“I’m sorry,” he apologies, “I don’t mean to try your patience or generosity, only you’re the first person on this hell of a planet that’s shown me an iota of compassion, and I can’t help but cling to it,” he explained.

“My name is Vahid… Vahid Hesam, and ever since I’ve arrived here, I’ve encountered nothing but danger. I was taken by force from my home, Selonia, and brought here by a hunter who had been hired to capture me for some- some-… Lord Maelstrom,” his voice was a little unstable at this point, as he was reminded of his brother and his frustration over the hopelessness of his situation.

“I escaped with the help of a droid, who I can only presume will now be turned to scrap, and have been trying to find work ever since, so that I can get off this planet and back to my family… to my brother… I don’t know what’s happened to him and- and- I can’t help but think the worst, especially since this- this Maelstrom seems to want me dead or worse. I’m sorry, again. I don’t mean to infringe on your hospitality any further than I already have – I’m grateful, very grateful – but it’s the only hope I have.”

[Syren Wyssholt]

Blast it! Dagnabbit! As Syren listens to Vahid's woeful tale, she can't help but to truly feel sorry for the guy. Besides, she knows all too well what it's like to be taken from your home by force. Her dark tale is a long one and one that has not found any sense of closure in this never-ending chapter in her life. If only she could get that closure, she could begin a new chapter. A better chapter.

She waves off his apologies. Not that they annoy her, per se; but they make her feel rather uncomfortable. She hasn't had anyone thank her - sincerely thank her - before.

"My name is Syren and that is all you need to know about me. Who is this Lord Maelstrom?"

Syren brushes past Vahid and motions for him to follow her inside. Through the guestroom and out into the living area, she motions for him to sit if he so wishes to do so. Smoothing the back of her mid-thigh length skirt, Syren takes a seat in one of the plush chairs and crosses her legs.

"Six! Bring us something to eat and to drink. If you're keeping this man as your pet, you'd better be the one to take care of it."

Is she kidding?! Hard to tell by the tone of voice she used. Her attention is refocused on Vahid. Nothing is said for a few minutes as she thoughtfully runs the tip of her finger along her lower lip.

"I tell you what, Vahid. I'll let you remain here. I suppose I could use some help around here, afterall. I'll pay you for the work that you do. I ask that you never mention my name or whereabouts to anyone you may encounter while on this panet that you refer to as hell."

Those terms should suffice pretty well. He needs coin and work, she needs her privacy respected. What the reasons are for that remain unspoken.

"I also ask that you accept my apology to you for being so harsh. And don't worry, Six won't be turned into scrap just yet."

Syren smiles with those words, though the smile grows more sarcastic as her words near their end.

"I can pretty much guarantee you're safe here in the penthouse. Outside of it, is another story. You may use the guest bedroom as your own. I ask that you stay out of my bedroom. Other than that, make yourself at home."

Six comes in, toting a silver tray with two plates topped off with fresh fruits, sliced meats and crackers, two glasses of wine. Yes, Syren likes the life of luxury and she can afford it.

"Please, enjoy.", she states as she nods in the direction of the plate and glass set on the conversation table.

"Now, if you care to tell me more of this Lord Maelstrom, this hunter for hire and what happened - I might be able to help you shed a little more light on your situation. Or, atleast offer some sound advice."

[Vahid Hesam]

“I couldn’t help but grin as I listened to the woman’s words. My years of servitude to the Selonians, my compliance and good will towards even the most harsh of Masters, had paid off. A roof over my head with work and pay was a dream come true! I could not help but lunged for the tray of food presented by the droid. I had not seen food like this in years, not since I had been very young! After living on gruel and the occasional raw meat meal for so many years, to taste fresh fruit was glorious. I must have looked boorish, uncouth, but I did not care. I took a big bite of one of the spherical red fruits on the tray, washing it down with a gulp of wine, trying not to grin as I looked back up to Syren…”

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, swallowing down another mouthful, before trying to calm his appetite, to appear more polite. He yanked the bed sheets up around his body once more, as they had begun to fall in his fervor of eating.

“I- I really don’t know anything about Maelstrom. All I know is that he wanted me here, and alive. Someone came into my brothers den, when we were talking, and knocked me out… I think it was Kit, the man who brought me here. He was the hunter,” Vahid explained, “… ‘was’ being the operative word. The droid who accompanied me until my fault shot him. I got my only credits from his body, you see. They know that he didn’t-…”

He paused a moment, making a little apologetic smile before taking another large chunk out of the fruit. His stomach was growling for more.

“That he didn’t make it, because there was someone waiting at the spaceport for us. He chased me… I was lucky to escape then,” he said, with a forceful motion of the wineglass towards Syren, which almost sloshed the liquid over the glasses rim.

“Anyway, like I said, I don’t know what purpose I was needed here for, but it must be important, for this Maelstrom character to go all the way into the Corellian system, into the Selonian dens, to find me,” Vahid continued, without a hint of arrogance in his voice, his brow knitting in thought as he continued to chew on his fruit.

[Syren Wyssholt]

If Syren thinks the man a savage or uncooth brute for the way in which he just gobbled down the fruit as if he hasn't eaten in years, it doesn't show. In her opinion, nothing is more disgusting than watching a Hutt eat!

She nods when it's appropriate as Vahid regales her with his tale, sipping from her wine on occasion and taking a few small pieces of fruit to slowly chew upon.

When Vahid practically apologizes, silently, for pausing mid-sentence to wolf down another huge chunk of fruit, she shakes her head and smiles gently to him; silently telling him that it's all right.

"Well. That's quite a tale, Vahid. Would you mind if I did a little research on this Lord Maelstrom character? Also, can you think of anyone that you - or your brother - might have angered, owed money or services to ... hm. Just things that would lead someone to hiring a hunter for retrieval.

Six, standing off to the side of the room, turns her head to view Syren as if she is about to speak to her Mistress. From the corner of her eye, Syren sees this, and lifts a hand to stay the impending chatter from the droid.

"One more thing. Six will get you your clothes from the dryer. Don't be surprised if she comes back in the next day or two with new outfits for you, as well."

[Vahid Hesam]

“Any help you could give on shedding light on his identity and motives would be most useful, yes, thank you,” he said with a bow of his head, finishing off what was left of the fruit and feeling a small-satisfied tingle in his stomach, hunger slaked for now.

Setting down his glass on the table, he again pulled up the sheets, at the mention of his clothes. Directing a smile at the droid, he could not believe his luck. New clothes too? He really was being treated like a welcomed, if not esteemed, guest now. It was such a change, it had him shaken a little.

“I don’t think it’s likely we could have angered anyone. I worked as a slave on Selonia for the past decade or so, as did my brother to an extent. We had not been off world since we arrived there from Abraegado-rae, when we were children… I cannot think anyone would have held a grudge all of sixteen or more years, since we were there.”

[Syren Wyssholt]

This Lord Maelstrom ...., she thinks to herself while half-heartedly listening to the subservient's words drone on and on. ... If he's of the dark side... Syren shakes her head, putting on a smile to the man; though inwardly, she's dreading the offer she just made to Vahid.

First I'll search the databanks to see if there is anything on this Lord. Then, if that reveals little or nothing at all, a few favors will be called in. Blast it all! I just know this is going to become difficult, troublesome and potentially deadly.

Six, her annoying droid, waddles over behind the couch and begins petting Vahid on the head. Syren rolls her dark eyes and shakes her head.

"Six, stop that! Gah! GO! Get your pet his clothes would you? He's going to catch a chill and then you'll be sorry. Scat!"

Yet another mournful tone is emitted from the mechanized cyborg as she teeters off to fetch the man's clothing.

"You don't want a droid, do you?"

Her tone just might hint that she is asking Vahid this seriously. But, if it ever came right down to it, Syren most likely wouldn't be able to part with the droid. The hunk of metal has been with her for the past fifteen years, after all.

"Well, there is work to do around here so you best begin earning your keep. Clean up after our meal and then finish watering my lovely plants out on the balcony. After that - take a bath for crying outloud. You stink."

Like hot and cold she is. One minute she's sincere to the man, down right cordial even, and the next her tone is of annoyance with him. Of course, living a life of near seclusion and having only that aggravating droid as company just might have something to do with it.

She rises, sauntering off towards the opposite end of the penthouse, disappearing behind a door for the next few hours as she begins seaching the databanks.

[Vahid Hesam]

“As my hostess departed, I feel back onto the bed I had awoken in with a long sigh. For a minute or two, I simply sat and allowed my thoughts to collect. It seemed I had fallen into the lap of someone with connections that might help me solve the puzzle I had become entangled in. Just as I was becoming lost in my silent accusations, the droid returned with warm-pressed clothes over her arm. He smiled in thanks as I stood, inhibition free, and took the bundle from her. I pulled on the white cotton pants, and buckled the belt at the waist, then taking my boots and pulling those on too. The droid had brought me a loose blue shirt too, which I buttoned up quickly, again thanking Six for her help.

I turned then to my work. Gathering up the tray with plates, glasses and all, I balanced them on once hand, whipping the bed sheets into a bundle in the other. I didn’t fear dropping anything – I had acute balance, both naturally and from my training in the circus as a child. Six lead the way through what seemed like never ending halls and rooms, each as luxurious as the last, until we finally found our way into the kitchen. It was vast and contained all the utilities that I would need. With the droid still lingering in the doorway, I got to work. Soon enough, however, it seemed more like play. I hadn’t been able to exercise my talents in some time, and so I made games out of putting away the washed items. Six applauded, yet at the same time it was clear she feared the consequences should I drop or break anything.

I made quick progress through the cleaning and moved onto the plants. In my curiosity to see each type and examine it, I took double the needed time to finish up. I couldn’t help pausing, too, to look out over the city. The balcony had an amazing view – I hadn’t ever been up so high. I carefully set down the water spray bottle, and cast a glance back at the doorway into the house – the coast was clear. Giving the stone rail around the balcony a testing push to make sure it was sturdy, I lifted myself up to sit on it. Already Six was screeching in protest, but soon I was standing up, arms spread at my sides. I couldn’t resist it. I walked the length of the rail, occasionally making as though I was going to fall to wind Six up. Eventually, for fear that I might short out some of her circuits, I jumped down and allowed her to lead me to where her Master was, to see if any progress had been made yet…”

[Syren Wyssholt]

One of the things that Syren is grateful for, are the security cameras placed strategically throughout the penthouse and along the balcony. Small, inconspicuous and never noticed by those with untrained eyes - meaning, by those whom have not served in the Imperial Military. Though those days are over for her, by personal choice, Syren still utilizes the skills and techniques which she learned over the years of her service.

From one of the monitors, she watches Six, chuckling and shaking her head at the giddy-little-school-girl antics as Vahid not only works but provides entertainment for Six as well.

"That's just great. Thanks, Vahid. Now Six is sure to keep you as her pet and I'll never be able to get rid of you.", she mumbles under breath then looks back to the information scrolling up the datapad's monitor.

She has her system set up so that a small window remains docked in the upper right hand corner of the screen; just keeping current news headlines posted. One particular headline captures her attention:


BUSINESS MOGUL SHA`HIR ARAKYD FOUND MURDERED

The body of business mogul Sha`hir Arakyd was found late last night in the alley of 5th and Plaza. According to eyewitness accounts, Arakyd, owner and founder of Arakyd Industries was seen leaving the place of business at around eleven o'clock.

"Just as he does every night," one employee of Arakyd Industries, who wishes to remain anonymous, comments to our field reporter, "He left the building, went down the street a block where he gets into his limo."

When asked if she saw or heard anything unusual, she replied; "Nu uh. Though, with how quickly the storm clouds were moving last night and the way their shadows played tricks with the lights, I suppose anything would look unusual."

Funny, there were no storms last night and according to the local weather reports, the skies were clear.

Local authorities have refused to make a statement on this matter, stating simply that the investigation is just beginning so no facts are known at this point.

According to reports issued by the Medical Examiner's office, Arakyd died instantly, execution style. From the way the body was found laying on the ground, he had apparently been on his knees and shot in the back of the head. Twice.

Arakyd Inudstries, a major manufacturer of droids, heavy weapons, and starships, made a name for themselves during the New Order by securing several high-profile deals with the Empire.

The Viper Probe Droid was one of their greatest achievements, as it marked one of the most successful attempts to use artificial intelligence in a military application.

After the Battle of Endor, Arakyd continued to remain loyal to the Imperial remnants, and produced the XR-85 Tank Droid for use when the Empire battled the New Republic for control of Coruscant.

However, as the Empire dwindled and eventually became the Imperial Remnant, Arakyd altered its stance and began to sell its products without regards to political backgrounds.

It has been rumored that Arakyd has been involved in numerous business and personal dealings termed as "shady". Perportedly, Arakyd has been seen conducting business in the lower levels of the city, meeting with types described as "dark and ominous", the kind who would be in the slave trade.

Out of fear for their life, our source has refused to comment any further.

Just who would want the business tycoon dead? Our sources ...

---------

A motion detected in the corner of her eye pulls her attention away from the article. While watching the monitor, Syren watches Vahid give Six a heart-attack (it would be if she had a heart) by walking along the upper ledge of the balcony rail.

"Right. I just bet you 'slipped' when you took that nosedive."

By the time she looks back to the newsfeed, it's already scrolling a new story; nothing of interest. Easing her chair back, she rubs the bridge of her nose a few times with the tip of her index finger and thumb, letting out a long breath.

As she lowers her hand, Six and Vahid arrive at the door and she looks up to both of them. Shifting her eyes from Six to Vahid, she just looks at him with those cold, dark eyes; as if saying she knows something about him that he failed to reveal previously.

"No news yet. However, I will be out for the rest of this evening. Six here will take care of you and anything you might need."

[Vahid Hesam]

“I felt a cold shiver run over my body, as Syren gave me a look that would deep-freeze a star. I wasn’t quite sure what to do or say then. It seemed I was being given leave to do what I wished within the house, until… what time, I didn’t really know. Protest seemed like a good option for a moment, but I quickly dismissed it, turning in tow of the droid and opting to return to the balcony…”

“Would you like anything, Vahid?” Six asked, as the Gados sat himself down on the balcony’s edge, looking out across the city.

“A clue.”

“… Sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”

Hesam waved a dismissive hand, “No, I’m fine, Six… how long have you been working here, then?” he said, trying unconvincingly to seem interested.

“Oh, some years, sir! Some years indeed, but I wouldn’t change it for the world! Especially not now that you’re here, sir.”

A smirk, “Really? I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Six. I won’t be here forever. I’m just a temporary lodger. Maybe one day when I’m a famous performer I’ll come back here to pay you and Syren back for your hospitality.”

He laughed slightly, speaking beneath his breath, “If I even live to see the end of the year.”

[Syren Wyssholt]

Syren watches the two leave, thinking carefully over her plans for the evening. This is the week that Coruscant celebrates Carnival Week, a holiday similar to the modern-day-real-world Mardi Gras.

The streets will be filled with party-goers and there's a huge to-do setting the festivities off at the posh Coruscant Hotel. Since there will be many political figureheads attending this gala, many undercover Corsec Agents will be there as well, for security sake.

One agent in particular is whom she will be seeking out this evening. This man use to be her nemesis. She still loathes the bastard but has learned to tolerate him when his skill and expertise will suit her needs. Braxton Rikes is his name. During her years of service to the Imperial Empire, she's had many-a-run-ins with this man. Each had always managed to escape the others grasp, get the one up on each other, and set the other up in the most unusual of fashions. So much so that they have a found a respect for one another not found in enemies. Perhaps that is what keeps these two from killing each other.

Syren spends the next hour locked up in her bedroom. Upon emerging, she looks around for Six and Vahid. Hearing their muffled voices coming from the balcony, she strides over - silently-and remains just inside the doorframe.

Clothed in a strapless, figure-hugging gown of black satin with a thigh-high slit up the left side, Syren clears her throat to get let them both know she's there; adjusting the positioning of the thin sparkling choker caressing her neck.

Dressed to kill - a shame its not literally this evening - Syren looks nothing short of radiant. Her make-up accentuates her dark, inticing eyes; her hair, swept up off the nape of her neck with a few loose tendrils makes her cheekbones appear higher than they are.

"Vahid - I would appreciate it if you would accompany me this evening. For what I need to do requires an escort. Six will lay out appropriate attire for you in your room if you agree."

[Vahid Hesam]

Before Vahid can say a word, Six bustles him away to the guest bedroom; the Gados repeatedly looking back over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his hostess…

“Being a resident of Selonia for the majority of my life, I had not seen a human female for much of my adult life. When I had arrived on Coruscant, I had seen many, but non so striking as Syren looked this evening. I managed to steal one last glance at her before Six shut the bedroom door on me, sitting me down while she scuttled away to presumably find my attire for the evening. As I sat, I thought and wondered what I would be escorting her too and whether or not this might help us solve the mystery of Lord Maelstrom. For that matter, would I be safe in the open? Then again, I trusted she wouldn’t take me anywhere dangerous.

After some time, Six returned and insisted on staying in the corner of the room while I clothed myself once again. I could immediately tell that these clothes were of a higher quality. The feel of the fabric against my skin said as much. I noted, as I pulled on each item, that the droid seemed to have picked out something that reminded me of the human clothing on Selonia, only a great deal more lavish.

When I stood up in front of the mirror, my thoughts on this were affirmed. I brushed down the lapels of the deep-blue suit I wore, examining the cuffs of the white shirt I wore and the little gold cufflinks that kept them together. I ran one hand through my hair, giving it a little ruffle before smoothing it some. Looking up at myself, I couldn’t help but think of some Arabian prince from the stories I’d heard as a child. I looked smart, something I didn’t remember ever looking before. I looked, in fact, like an entirely different person.”

“Oohhhh sir, oh sir you look simply marvelous!” the droid chirped.

Vahid turned, feigning a debonair smile, with a quirk of one brow, that was sure to fizzle the droids circuits. He then let out a laugh and paced past Six, pulling the door open and looking around for Syren. He spotted her across the room and smiled, lifting his hands into the air as if to say ‘what do you think’? His tie was done all wrong, but other than that, he looked the picture of a gentleman.

[Syren Wyssholt]

Syren watches Six bustle her new toy - er - pet - off into the bedroom, chuckling some under her breath. She notices the way Vahid keeps looking back over his shoulder and this makes her chuckle some more. If she were he, she'd be worried about what else Six might do. However, Syren does soften her smile to Vahid just before Six shuts the door.


While Six dresses the man, Syren strolls out onto the balcony and walks over to the rail. The cityscape looks breathtaking from this height.

Lord Maelstrom... I wonder what other name or names he is known by. I also wonder just what it is that he wants Vahid for. It's not likely ...

Her thoughts are interrupted by the re-emergence of Vahid. Syren turns from the rail, steps closer to the doors and pauses, her smile re-appearing once more. With a gentle nod of her head, she claps softly while Vahid poses for her.

"You look positively handsome, Vahid."

In truth, she could simply eat him up! However, that will not happen. She will never allow it. This is business between the two and not a budding romance. Though, there is nothing wrong with his being her eye-candy for the evening.

"Here. Let me fix that for you.", she states as she approaches him, then fixes his tie.

"There. Perfect. Shall we?"

She doesn't exactly wait for an answer as she turns and returns to the balcony area of the roof then crosses the expanse to her personal speeder. Once inside, she readies everything and waits for Vahid to make himself comfortable before lifting off.

[Vahid Hesam]

“I edged myself into the speeder, very much aware of my surroundings – I was careful not to crease or rumple any of the fine clothing that Syren had allowed me to temporarily borrow. Glancing around the speeder interior, I caught sight of Six outside – who waved frantically and with some degree of sadness at me, as though my departure was permanent. I returned the little wave and offered the android an asinine smile, unbecoming of a ‘gentleman’ like myself. I then turned back to Syren, softening my expression.”

“You know, I’d never been in a speeder until I arrived here a short while ago,” he said, thinking aloud. “They don’t have them on my home planet… understandably, really, since it would be difficult to navigate them underground.”

Vahid sat back comfortably and sighed somewhat, his thoughts drifting about from topic to topic, but always lingering the longest on his brother. But then a thought struck him.

“Why do you keep all of this finery, Syren?” he inquired, giving a light tug at the cuffs of his shirt. “Surely not for yourself…”

[Syren Wyssholt]

Syren eases the speeder from the platform, guiding it into the flow of traffic. She glances to Vahid and smiles, nodding to him. Those who actually know more than just her name and reputation might be surprised at the choice of music she turns on at a low volume, more or less to provide some background noise to help drown out the sounds of other things. Traffic, sirens ... Vahid's talking.

“Why do you keep all of this finery, Syren? Surely not for yourself…”

Syren's breath hitches in her throat and her muscles tense at his question. She ponders his inquiry for a few minutes, humming to the classical piece flowing from the speakers of the speeder; giving Vahid a light shrug of indifference.

"I keep them ... just in case." Her reply is short and curt. Up until Vahid asked, she hadn't thought about Cyrel for the past few years. Well ... she likes to think she hasn't at least. They run into each other still now and then.

It doesn't take them all that long to reach the Coruscant Hotel. Easing from the main flow of traffic, she sets the speeder down where a parking attendant indicates and shuts the craft down.

"Ready?", she asks Vahid. Noticing that he is more than likely nrevous about this, she reaches over and gives his arm a light squeeze. "Trust me. Stay close and you'll be fine. And don't fidget."

With that, she exits the speeder and adjusts her gown, finally giving her upswept hair a light pat in a few places to insure that no stray hairs have come loose from their bindings.

She waits for Vahid to take a position at her side, then slides her arm beneath his and heads into the posh hotel to partake in the festivities as she knows she will run into her counterpart.