Ghost in the Machine

EXPLICIT
Coruscant - 1313 - Avalon Business District

The force of a meaty fist slamming down upon the elongated, rectangular meeting table was significant enough to overturn glasses and ashtrays. Tobias, having long since become familiar with the escalating signs of his father's anger, had foresight enough to lift his tumbler of whiskey from the now resonating metal surface. The older man's ruddy face quivered with rage, espied from the corner of two very different colored eyes [one a transmorphic hazel, the other a rich forest green]. Tobias took a long drag from his clove-scented Chandrilan cigarra and then exhaled slowly, tinging the air with wispy networks of silvery smoke. No one else in the room seemed ready to address what promised to be the Avalon Syndicate's most trying rivalry to date. Shipments destroyed, enforcers murdered in droves, top-secret information plucked like daisies from secure databases; it was little wonder why he was livid.

The chair Tobias occupied creaked noisily in an otherwise silent-as-the-grave room, his tall and broad form rising to a casual stand. He stubbed his cigarra as his eyes scanned the impassive faces of his father's lieutenants. His head wasn't on the chopping block like these poor fucks and while he was usually entertained by the bloodshed that ensued after such an egregious mistake, he was infinitely more enticed by the prospect of infiltrating this new Underworld cult that threatened them.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" His father all but spat as he side stepped his chair and turned his back to the rest of the room. He began rolling up the sleeves of his starched, white dress-shirt; further exposing a multitude of tattoos that lined nearly every inch of his muscular form. He glanced over his shoulder at the man, observing the standoffish positioning of his hands braced on the table he'd previously struck.

"I'm going to do something about our problem. Who better to access the club than a ghost such as myself?" It wasn't really a question, implying a need for permission. He took measured steps out of the meeting room as punctuation and was not halted by more harsh words. Once he stepped into the lift that would carry him to street level, he leaned his forearm against the thermopane face of the elevator and cast his unusual gaze across the expanse of the dismal cityscape that was Level 1313. A younger, unknowing version of himself had once questioned a man's desire to rule over such a place. Now, he knew that power was everything and a man's appetite for it was only dampened by his lack of imagination. One day, he would overtake his father's empire of crooks, drug-dealers, murderers, and malice for himself. What he had gleaned from this challenge was not a slight. Oh no... it was opportunity.

Coruscant - 1313 - Cercle des Ombres, La Maschera

Music

Enforcers wouldn't set foot in the blockaded sector now, an array of glowing graffiti marking the territory of the new gang that had rolled in and claimed what was now designated as the Circle of Shadows. Armed, masked mercenaries oversaw the perimeter and maze-like corridors, eager to annihilate any of his father's men who breached their territory. Someone like Tobias, he looked as though he belonged. He passed right by with only a series of glances spared in his direction; a casual stride bringing him to the threshold of the district's premier spot, La Maschera. A credit chip was lost and a mask was purchased, the willowy creature selling them just outside generously helping him affix it to his tattoo speckled face.

The music thumped and blasted its way into his ears, prompting an appreciative smile. Digging his stylized fingers into his pants pocket, he withdrew his skull adorned cigarra case and flicked it open with his thumbnail, sliding one of the sweetly flavored stems between his lips. Replacing the case, he tapped his other pockets for his lighter. His brow furrowed beneath the mask and then he recalled one thing he'd left on the meeting table. Eyes of opposing colors rose, seeking out assistance with his unfortunate lack of fire.

To say that Vic was a regular at La Maschera might be slightly exaggerated, for the corsair's time was taken up by many adventures across the galaxy, ranging from diplomatic endeavors on her cousin's behalf, or outrageous and often deadly rampages, that also ensured that her people would keep the upper ground. She was the perfect person to have a foot in the upper circles and one in the underworld. The courtesan-trained redhead knew how to survive and cut or seduce to get information.

What had started as mere business at La Maschera had become a little personal. The redhead was too much of a free spirit to find solace in a single place; but she enjoyed the place and its delightful debauchery, and whatever powers might be knew she could be utterly picky about her vices. It was a good place to keep ear on the ground; as well as to relax in between formal trips.

And the place's owner was one of the most skilled biters she ever got to bang.

That was a very efficient way to make her come back anywhere; and the crowd was often utterly appetizing, individually or as groups.

Humming to herself, hips swaying to the music, the redhead's face was adorned with a mask complimenting her rusty locks and her bright eyes. She was having fun and the night was only beginning, just like she loved it.

Having finished her latest drink, she placed the empty glass on the bar, before moving just aside from the crowd to light a cigarette. Right when she flicked the flame to life, she caught sight of a magnetic tattooed hottie she hadn't seen yet. And she had sampled quite a few by now. Gods, he was appetizing, and she couldn't help lick her luscious lips.

The moment she saw him look for what had to be his own lighter, she sashayed confidently, and her own smoke in place at the corner of her mouth, she lit his cigarra without a word, only a devious spark in her eyes.

Illumination of the exothermic kind flickered to life, highlighting his generously tattooed profile and slowly drawing his eyes toward the source. Long, inky black lashes swept up and his eyes fastened with unerring intensity upon the bewitching woman who'd sashayed up to him. Her confidence was a heady elixir that prompted one corner of his mouth to raise in a lascivious smirk. He leaned forward as the flame was proffered to the end of his cigarra, his fingers sweeping up and capturing her wrist to hold the lighter steady. His lashes lowered again as he observed his actions, taking a few short tokes before a plume of smoke drifted skyward. The flashing, dazzling lights of nightclub transected the veil thin miasma and danced along the sharp angles of his mask disguised face, his thumb intimately indenting against her pulse point before he released her arm.

"Thank you. I suppose I'll have to keep you around, in case I need another light." He removed the cigarra as he spoke, his rich voice raised so he could be heard over the music. Tobias did not bother hiding his open perusal of her person, taking in each delectable curve accentuated by her choice of attire with a keen eye. He took a step closer to her, his large hands carefully guiding her hips in order to steer her body toward the bar. He propped his chin upon her shoulder as his chest came up against her back, tilting his mouth to her ear in such a way that his breath teased the hairs tucked artfully behind it. "I was just about to get a drink. Care to join me?"

Years of training as courtesan had made Vic a fine reader of body language, seeking cues to satisfy those who could afford decadent sirens like her, as well as know when to strike, wrapping around the target with the most delightful punishment. Such acquired skills made her keenly and quickly aware of how the tattooed piece of art before her was pure lust and danger.

Hell was her favorite kind of heaven.

The moment their skins connected as he wrapped his deft and strong fingers around her wrists, she purred but a slight twist of her tongue ensured her cigarette didn't escape her promising mouth. She stepped forward, her movements graceful as a lady but promising of tantalizing pleasures. She returned the lighter into a zipped pocket once his cigarra was lit and her hand released.

Her gaze didn't let go of his, staring into fascinating mismatched colors, neither of them belonging to a saint, adding to his breath-taking presence.

She briefly removed the cigarette from her lips and let her own filigrane of smoke dance around their faces when he stated his intent of keeping her around, for there was no doubt or question in the way he had spoken, his rich voice a delightful extension of what was now his inquisitive and appreciative gaze, roaming her body just has her bright eyes did his.

"I always light up fine," she said in her accented voice, a slight purr in it.

It was beyond a double-entendre, and she meant every word of it. She was the first one to break a wandering hands into unattached bones; but a tempting and skillful first touch was a solid opener, and this man had done that to perfection; so he could be handsy as he saw fit and she would gladly do the same.

She let him steer their bodies closer and towards the bar, and she fell in stride with him, her body brushing just a tad more against his, mimicking pace and adjusting as if she had been molded to him from creation.

"It'd be a shame not to sample the house's goods," she replied in all confidence.

As they reached the bar, she didn't make a move to get away from him, resting against him, but keeping her own balance. Without hesitation, she lifted and arm and curled her thumb into his belt as she ordered a Reactor Core.

Tobias merely stared after her wolfishly as she made mention of sampling the house's goods, basking in the pleasure her closeness rendered while simultaneously casting his gaze around his new environment. The pair of them drew many sets of hungering eyes but his pace never faltered, even as the crowd convulsed around them to the music. He took stock of security, making a mental note of their particular thickness near the VIP lounge that twisted up a staircase to the second floor. There, a glimpse of a particular mask captured his attention but he did not let it linger overlong. It'd be a pity to give the game away when he was having so much fun already.

They sidled up to the bar, fitting between two overly rambunctious patrons who seemed more interested in the song playing than the drinks they ordered, which were rapidly becoming diluted by the melting ice within them. His hips juxtaposed sensually against hers, further closeness encouraged by the thumb she'd hooked in his belt. He gazed down from his superior height at her, pure interest and amusement playing at his generous mouth. When the bartender swung by, he ordered a whiskey neat from the top shelf and then took another elating drag from his cigarra; sliding the stem into one of the dips on an ashtray designed for the purpose of holding it.

The sweet scent of clove clung to his skin, wafting to her nose as his fingers rose to gently caress her elegant jawline. "I'm Tobias. What shall I call you, firestarter?"

Vic's free spirit stemmed from the realistic knowledge that tomorrow was never promised to anyone. Whether in the cushioned upper circles or in obscure back alleys. She lived life to its fullest as cliche as some might think it sounded. She was a hard ass at her job, smoothing corners when need be for the greatest success for her and her own, and tore idiots apart and didn't bother burying her enemies when situations demanded it. Too fierce, too carnivorous, too much was her inner being; and she was unapologetic about it.

The spicy redhead was fascinated by the tattooed man at her back and was now very much looking forward to get to get an even better look at all ink that might cover his athletic body. She could appreciate fellow predators and she trusted her instincts that he was this sort. She liked her women submissive and sometimes her men; but running her own crew and a fair amount of her sexual encounters made her inclined to provoke someone when she felt natural dominance emanating from them, until they owned her for a tryst or two, or even some semi or fully public romps.

Always in tune with her environment, she took in the patrons around them though most of her attention was upon her unexpected escort. His hips matching hers elicited a purr, especially as he welcomed the early but heightened intimacy her possessive curling of thumb at his belt. She wasn't territorial, believing that everyone shall be able to enjoy life to its fullest; but she was definitely a handsy lady with a potential or actual partner.

Whatever he was smoking smelled delicious especially once it collided with his skin's natural scent, a most intoxicating blend really, one she was inclined to lick and nibble on as appetizer. As he introduced himself, she also used the nearby ashtray, and gave him another once over.

"Mmmm, Tobias," she repeated his name, her accent just subtly altering the pronunciation.

"Fitting," she added with a grin.

"Firestarter is fine by me; but you can call me Vic."

Their drinks were deposited in front of them and the bartender moved right along to help the next set of patrons, forsaking payment in lieu of the crush of other individuals threatening to spill over the counter if not seen to. His hand dropped away from her face, his fingers curling around the cool glass, but his heterochromic eyes never strayed from her lovely face. The subtle effect her accent had on his name stirred something hot and fierce in his blood, changing the keen interest into his eyes to something akin to hunger. Rapidly, a night of reconnaissance was shapeshifting into a scene more befitting the second ring of Hell; a slice of paradise compared to the usual circles he inhabited.

"Vic." He tried out her name, as well. He wasn't in possession of such an alluring accent but the way his teeth set to edge and his eyes creased rendered a dramatic enough result, twisting her short designation into something stuttered almost breathlessly while rolling beneath the sheets. Finally, his gaze broke from her as he applied the tumbler of whiskey to his parched mouth, draining the entire serving in one gulp. The glass was relinquished and his cigarra retaken. He canted his head toward the VIP lounge.

"While I'd love to have you grinding on me down here, it's a little crowded. Maybe we can sneak into VIP?"

Vic shifted her position and released his belt so she could take a sip of her drink. Reactor cores were most often trash; but she knew that Cipher's bartenders always aced it - or they wouldn't work there in the first place. So it had become one of the two places in the whole galaxy where she could indulge in the cocktail.

Tobias's eyes were devious pools one could get lost in, and while she knew how not to crash her ship at seas, she couldn't deny his sexually-charged pull, as a true devious siren. That kept things interested to live life on the edge of everything that could go bad; and thus she wasn't going to scamper off before things got even more up-and-close with her newest acquaintance.

She grinned behind the rim of her glass as she saw the hunger light a different fire in his eyes. She stopped drinking for the moment and retrieved her cigarette. A dark chuckle escaped her as he suggested to 'sneak' into VIP.

"Oh, Tobias," she purred, her free hand teasing his shirt's collar, before trailing down his chest, all the way down to a barely-there-but-oh-so-promising touch at the front of his pants.

"I have no need to sneak," she added.

Without hesitation, she reached out for his hand, and tugged him along with her as she made her way towards the staircases leading to their destination.