Log:First Order: A Friendly Chat

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A Friendly Chat

OOC Date: December 6, 2018
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: First Order: Brand, Oran Arcantael Civilians: Merek, Maireni

The short story: It's always awkward when your ex calls and wants to know who you've been seeing lately.

The long story:

(At the Emerald Club)

Merek got a message. A very poorly spelled message that reads, "Com to Emarald Club, partey time! - Maireni"

Sure enough, Maireni is here in the noisy club, noisy and busy, the steady thump thump of dance music felt almost as much as it's heard. The Ryn is at a table with a bottle of some liquor, but no glasses, which begs the question of whether or not she actually purchased it, or it was swiped and didn't think about needing glasses until after. She's never really been one to plan ahead. Not that it matters, she slinks down in her seat so she's partially hidden behind the table and takes a swig straight from the bottle while she waits.

Merek isn't contacted so often, so he seems to be curious. He has put his street attire on for the Moon, which is black with some crimson tones to it, in wave patterns. He has on his belt with blaster upon the hip, with his jacket that looks to be nicer than most folk's, meant for all the rainy weather that is there. He looks around, and finds where the Ryn might be. Once noticing Mai, he walks that way to take a seat after he orders some beer.

"Haaaaaay," is Maireni's call when she spots the nobleman enter the club, the non-bottle holding hand lifting to wave to him as he approaches. "I thought that your holomail I sent it to, but not real sure cuz Yoyo changed a bunch of 'em to say 'Yoska's boyfriend stay away ho' but he does that all the time." And so does she, not that she'll ever cop to it. "You lookin' fancy today, come here," she gives him a toothy sort of grin that's similar to the one she gave last time she tries to check his pockets.

Merek settles to take one of the booth seats, then he looks as his beer arrives then tips the waiter. He lifts up the drink to sip from it, "Yes, he tends to do all that when I meet him out and about too, saw him the other day, doing his usual, he's... Well, Yoska," he muses, as he nods a bit. "What about you, how have you been?" he asks.

Maireni pulls out a datapad that says 'Ginera' on it meticulously painted, swirly letters, "Lemme fix it in here to say 'fancy noble cape' instead," she tells him, typing away on the thing in what is no doubt a butchering of the language, because she's only slightly literate. "You saw Yoyo?! Ugh, he didn't tell me! I'm gonna steal his lucky ring for that." Though in truth she was going to do it anyway, but this is as good an excuse as any to do it. "Meeee? I'm great!" She shoves the datapad into the waist of her shorts and then lifts the bottle for another drink. "You can't trust Yoyo none, especially not when he's sayin things about me."

"Ah, he thought I was making things up when I said you were prettier than him," Merek offers then to Mai, while he takes a drink, and nods a bit to the woman. He relaxes as he looks to the club, then back. "Ya, he was telling me that he didn't take my credits the other day, and that freaky stuff costs a bit extra." That does sound like some kind of conversation the two might have.

"Haaaaaa," Maireni throws her head back, the pair of puffs on her head compressed against the back of the booth, though when her head rights they spring right back into their standard puff positions. "He thinks he's way prettier than me, but he ain't, he's just jealous that he don't look this good!" They really look about equal, truth be told, both Ryn with the particular Ryn scent and probably some fleas. "Weelllll," a pointy toothed grin splits again. "Freaky stuff do cost extra, but the real freaky people are real desperate for that freaky stuff so they pay the extra for."

Maireni is sitting at a booth with Merek, the Ryn has a bottle in her hand that she keeps hidden on the seat beside her rather than letting it rest on the table like a normal person might, the pair are chatting.

"Well he hits on me every chance he gets, so he tells me about it all the time, even though I've little interest," Merek explains then to Mai, then he looks aside in thought, "So the question is, what brought you to ask me here? I know it likely isn't social, what's your angle?"

That question might be answered by the arrival of two dark clad figures to the club, moving unhurriedly but with purpose -- Oran, and Brand. The former removes his hood when they get closer, then reaches into a pocket to produce a shiny credit chit, hard to see the exact value but it looks pricey. This, he tosses towards Maireni. "Thank you, Maireni," the Coruscanti man greets her, civilly. "Much obliged." He then turns his attention to Merek, both brows lifted. "Little lord Merek. How are you? Do you recollect I mentioned at the auction that we'd like to have a friendly chat with you sometime? Congratulations. That time has arrived."

Brand enters in alongside Oran, though unlike his robed counterpart Brand is outfitted in a set of combat armor, complete with a full helmet. An array of weapons hang within sight on his belt, his hand coming to rest comfortably beside the blaster on his right hip when they stop. He watches the credit chit pass toward Maireni, then his attention moves to Merek.

"What?" Maireni's voice swings up in pitch, as though taken aback by the idea that this might be anything but a social call. "I aint got nothin' but good angles!" Which isn't exactly an answer to his question, but she follows it with another big grin. "An' Yoyo hits on everyone." But then there are looming ominous figures and the pretense is over, and her slender shoulders gather into an unapologetic shrug. "Girls gotta make a livin'," she says as she deftly catches the credit chit out of the air, then sliiiiiiiides her butt right on out of the booth, bottle still in hand.

Merek stands up and looks to the two figures, by all means seeming like he knew that the two would be there, or that it does not seem to make him cautious. He then tilts his head in thought, "Could've saved a few credits, just hit me up, Sir," he offers earnestly. He then looks to Mai, "Oh, I didn't expect it was a social call, I might not have met you so oft before, but I know you well enough to know it wasn't a social visit, no issue."

"I don't know what's more distasteful, the fact that you want to pursue unnatural relations with aliens or the fact that they don't want you," Oran replies to Merek, dryly. "But I'm pleased to hear you've no objection to /our/ social call. We'll be retiring to a more private location forthwith. This way, please?" Her mission complete, he's ignoring Maireni, and is instead watching Merek sharply to make sure he comes with them.

As Maireni stands with her bottle, Brand motions toward her to gather her attention before he points toward the bar and says, "In addition to your payment, please stop by the bar and gather another bottle of your choice before you leave. It will be taken care of." His attention shifts back toward the business at hand then, his hand moving to tighten upon the grip of his blaster as Oran motions Merek forward. Brand clearly intends on stepping in behind Merek in this little escort, insuring there will be no running away.

"Oh hoooooo," Maireni doesn't seem to care that she's being insulted for being an alien, she's Ryn, and therefore accustomed to being widely disliked. Instead she focuses on the good part, which is that she's getting more alcohol out of the deal. "Yessss. Byeeee!" She blows kisses at the ominous guys and dances her way away from Merek and the Knights, away from the trouble, and through the crowd to get to the bar. She's going to go home double fisting bottles of expensive liquor.

"A lot more context to that conversation than that, with her brother consistent upon me," Merek mentions, while he nods then to Oran and to Brand. He is wearing his black and also crimson wave-patterned street attire. He has a blaster at his hip, which he keeps his hands away from to make it clear he isn't using it. He then adds, "I will come with you of course," he nods a bit, as he moves to be between their guarding for the time being.

"You're making it exponentially worse," Oran comments dryly, though he doesn't actually dispute the actions or intentions of the brother. They're Ryn. They're gross. Who knows what they do or why they do it. Then he looks to Brand, "Binders and hood." Cuff 'im! Some patrons at the club are starting to watch, but none have ventured closer to this incident. Oran assures Merek, "A precaution, of course."

There is a laugh from Brand at Oran's words toward Merek, the other Knight shaking his head and then gesturing with his blaster for Merek to put his hands behind his back. Binders are applied and a hood stuffed over his head and pulled tight before he pokes his blaster into the man's back for him to get moving.

Merek does as he is ordered to do, with hands behind his back, moving with the feel of the blaster upon his back. He follows them with no knowledge of the location that the two move to, but he is listening to see if he can recognize, and well... He's been here before, he might. Not that it makes a difference in his situation!

(At Ziro Outpost, Security Area)

Cuffs. Hood. Merek gets escorted out of the club and it feels like into a hovercar from there, no doubt some black, glossy affair with ominously dark-tinted windows. But he can't see it, and after a short trip, he's walking again. It sounds like Ziro Outpost, not entirely unfamiliar, but when the hood is yanked off again, he's in a cell, parked on the opposite side of a bare table from Bad Cop and Good Cop. Or maybe Bad Cop and Worse Cop. "We're going to talk about some of your associations since your departure from the First Order, Merek. Do you have anything to say before we begin?"

Merek is now in his leopard paw print boxers as well as having handed up his weapons as well as his datapad. Once he's at the cell, he looks over to Oran, "No questions or any statements. I will answer what you have to ask, Sir," he offers, as he inclines, then settles at the table.

(OOC note: He wasn't disrobed, he's clothed, you all will have to get a canon peep at his boxers in another log)

"Before we begin, allow me to make something clear," Oran remarks. He's sitting in his chair in a relaxed posture, and reaches one hand out in a gesture that's almost flippant. Merek and chair shove backwards as though propelled by an invisible force, and hit the wall a short distance behind him. The pressure does not let up, and it feels like his throat is closing, like something is constricting his breathing.

"I am willing and able to hurt you in a variety of methods both mundane and otherwise," Oran remarks, conversationally. The constriction gets worse. "Your familial connections will avail you nothing. Your personal wealth will avail you nothing. Your friends and allies will not come to your assistance. I have no reason to be gentle, and I have several reasons to be unkind. If you lie to us, we will know, and we will not be amused."

Air is almost impossible to reach -

"So I suggest you consider your answers carefully, answer fully, do not attempt to be clever, it will go poorly for you. If I have reason to call the Supreme Leader down here, it will go spectacularly poorly for you. Do you understand?"

The pressure stops, abruptly, releasing Merek to breathe again before he passes out.

"Good," Oran continues. "Now. Do you currently or have you had in the past any relationships with the following groups: Array Consortium, Defiance, Waywards, or Corellian Rangers?"

"In fact," Brand comments calmly as he watches Oran begin the process with Merek, his arms lifting to cross over his chest. "The Supreme Leader has informed us that your family's status is being carefully reconsidered in light of your disappointing results when it comes to your obligations to the Order." It seems to be a small assertion when it comes to the grand scheme of what Oran has said, but certainly relevant considering the topic at hand.

Merek feels as the Force is used upon him, and winces a bit. As he hits the wall he shifts about to try and reach up, as well as to pull at the nothing that is there. He then lets out a sigh and tries to relax afterwards, "Understood." It takes him a moment, and he seems to gather himself, "I have heard of a few of them, but haven't /knowingly/ engaged in relations beyond I believe having met a few people who speak of the Waywards. Seems a common thing upon the Moon," he states. The knowingly bit seems to note he's curious if they've heard something that he hasn't, at least that seems to be the implication within it, looking to them as if expecting them to say he did.

[FAIL ( -20)] Merek's Bluff @ (100) diff.

[PASS ( +54)] Oran Arcantael's Sense Motive @ (100) diff.

[PASS ( +8)] Brand Zyrra's Sense Motive @ (100) diff.

"What did I just say? What did I /literally/ just say to you?" Oran replies in a tone that sounds like something between disbelief and exasperation. "Do not lie to me, Merek. Do you understand what a lie is? A lie is when you are /not telling the truth/ or /not telling the whole truth/ to the /nice man/ across the table who is currently /not breaking your kneecaps/ with his BRAIN. Do you want broken knees, Milord? Because this is how you bloody well get broken knees. Nothing about what you just said is remotely believable. Try again, or we are going to hurt you. Do you currently or have you had in the past any relationships with the following groups: Array Consortium, Defiance, Waywards, or Corellian Rangers?"

Brand is listening closely as Oran poses his question, and then listens as Merek makes his answer. He hangs his head and shakes it in disappointment and as Oran begins to berate Merek for his lie, Brand steps forward and around his fellow Knight. He draws his hand back to it's full travel, and then comes forward with a bitch slap from out of Ko Hentota, his open hand slapping hard across Merek's face with enough force to make his ear ring. Still no words.

[FAIL ( -18)] Merek's Willpower @ (100) diff.

Merek looks thoughtful a moment as Oran speaks, then he seems to consider his words. As Brand offers the backhand to him he winces, as his lip begins to bleed from the strike. He then seems to withdraw his personality completely from the oters. Battle shock sets into him it would seem as he tries his best to push himself away from the others. He taps with his fingers as he swallows and seems to think, "What... What did I do wrong?" he asks, earnestly, to Oran. No deception there, he doesn't /think/ he did anything wrong, and is seeking to know what he's accused of.

"You lied to me," Oran replies without sympathy. "I haven't decided whether you're playing stupid or whether you're actually stupid, but either way, I have limited patience for the game, and the consequences will be similar." He draws a breath and exhales, annoyed, then looks to Brand. "Bring one of the collars, will you? The ones Hadrix bought after the slave auction? You remember those," he adds dryly for Merek, before he steeples his fingers. "Let's try again. Do you currently have, or have you in the past, any associations to groups or persons considered hostile to the First Order, its property, personnel, infrastructure, and objectives?"

Brand likewise seems to have little patience for the game, and as Oran mentions the collar, there is a harsh laugh through the vocoder of his helmet. He turns and moves toward a case situated near the entrance of the cell, then comes back with the collar in hand. He slips it around Merek's neck and there is an audible snap as it clasps into place. He keeps the remote to the device in hand, clearly wanting to be the one with the button.

[»ATTACK« (-149)] Merek's unarmed attack misses Brand Zyrra.

Merek sees the collar and then sees that he's about to have it placed on him. He swings about with his body to try and move away or slam the collar away from Brand. He doesn't manage it, instead it is already placed on him and he then somehow manages to hit his side upon the cell floor. He winces a bit, "Get it off me, please," he tells them, not even caring about the questions anymore. His black sclera'd golden-like gaze watching them while he seems to try and push back from them.

Oran rolls his eyes. "Merek, Merek, Merek. Why are you being so /difficult/? We haven't hurt you. ...Granted, we're about to, but until now, nothing. I warned you at the slave auction that we would be having a little chat about your activities since your departure from this august hegemony. Did I not?" One brow lifts. "Few people walk away from this alive. It was a privilege granted to you under the condition that you do nothing foolish with said privilege. Is it not reasonable to expect that we should wish to check up on things? Especially given that you, yourself, were so amenable to the suggestion?" He buffs his nails absently along one sleeve. "It should have been a boring conversation. Instead, you lied to me. Why did you lie to me, Merek, and what did you lie to me about? Which one of those fine groups of people do you have a tie to?"

[FAIL ( -10)] Brand Zyrra's Intimidate @ (100) diff.

As Merek manages to spin around and turn himself over onto the floor with a slam, Brand seems surprised. At least, as surprised as one can appear while wearing a helmet that hides any expression. He sort of just stares down at Merek for a span of a few seconds without commenting, and then his thumb presses the button that controls the collar. The device lights up and sends a considerable burst of electricity through Merek's neck. Once those shocks have finished, he growls down toward the man, "Stop being an idiot and just tell the kriffing truth. You aren't a good liar and everyone in this room knows it but you!"

Merek winces a bit, as he tries to think about it a moment, then he lifts up his gaze towards Oran as he considers as he then feels the shock and flails about with a scream. He seems to be trying his best to speak, "Alright, I didn't join them or anything like that, but I do go to a Wayward sponsored medical center, but I don't recall them being hostile at all. Least, not in personal interactions," This seems to be truth at least, in itself. Would also be a bit of public knowledge that such is affiliated, something not new that seems to be innocent enough.

[FAIL ( -82)] Merek's Bluff @ (100) diff.

[PASS ( +46)] Brand Zyrra's Sense Motive @ (100) diff.

[FAIL ( -4)] Oran Arcantael's Sense Motive @ (100) diff.

"A Wayward medical center." Oran sounds disappointed, and annoyed. "Yes. Rather. Just like the fact that you sort of met a Wayward once, once upon a time." He has no particular reaction to the shocking, or the attempt to headbutt Brand, but does hold up a finger for Brand to hold off a moment on more shocking. "You brought this utterly upon yourself, Merek. My only reason for bringing you here was to follow up with your recent activities... my only reason for keeping you here is that you continue to persist in half-truths and lies. At which you are lacking competence."

He clears his throat, then continues. "Let me ask you one more time: Do you currently have, or have you in the past, any associations to groups or persons considered hostile to the First Order, its property, personnel, infrastructure, and objectives?" He pauses a moment to let that sink in, then continues. "If you fail to answer this to our satisfaction, if we detect that you are telling something other than the /entire/ truth, then we will hurt you, let you go, and the Order will seize, dismantle, or destroy every asset your family possesses. Your company, your accounts, your property, your money, your real estate, will be gone. Your family will be homeless. They will have you to thank."

Brand steps away from Merek at the motion from Oran. He moves across the room to turn and place his back against one of the cell walls. The remote for the shock collar bounces in his hand, his thumb itching to push the button but the duty at hand keeping him from it. For now…

[FAIL ( -23)] Merek's Bluff @ (100) diff.

[PASS ( +22)] Oran Arcantael's Sense Motive @ (100) diff.

[PASS ( +25)] Brand Zyrra's Sense Motive @ (100) diff.

Merek looks over to Brand, seeming to look at him and also the remote, "You don't talk that much, do you?" then his attention is back towards Oran. "Listen, I think you are over-analyzing it, I think you wish there was something there, and seem to have convinced your self that there is. There isn't, just be honest, you need to have a reason besides my issues... That would make me not wish to be in the Order, or something. I don't understand it man," he says.

"The fact that you cannot, will not, answer a very simple question with a very simple yes or no answer speaks volumes of your loyalty to the Order post exodus, Merek." Oran isn't even mad. He's just /disappointed/, and stands. "So be it. Merek Black... von Black.... whatever nonsense you call yourself, this has been a profoundly unsatisfactory conversation. I don't believe 'just to be honest' is something you're actually capable of. I do not believe your lies. I do not believe your half-truths. I believe you have acted against the interests of the First Order, otherwise you would presently be assuring me as to your innocence, not trying to clumsily evade every bloody question we have posed to you. You will be watched. Your family will suffer." He looks to Brand. "Shock him until he passes out, dump him in a trash receptacle in the nearest alley, and we're removing the Blacks from every stitch they own." A brow lifts at Merek. "Come back later with some more thought on the subject, some honesty, and perhaps we will see those assets restored."

Brand is ready for Oran to make done with this questioning. A fact that is evidenced by how quickly Brand shoves off the wall. His hand jerks the blaster pistol from the holster at his hip and points it at Merek. There is hardly a pause before he squeezes the trigger and fires a bright red bolt of energy directly into Merek's abdomen. He waits then, allowing Merek to feel the pain burned through his stomach and the blood flowing before he holds the button down and zaps him into unconsciousness. Once he is out, Brand doesn't personally see to the dumping of his body. Rather, it is First Order soldiers that do so, dumping Merek's body into a dumpster in the Hutt District behind a restaurant.

Merek blinks and then he's shot and bleeding. Then he seems to be reaching up, not quite sure about the whole situation, then the collar is activated and he's out and shipped away!