The steps leading to the grand hall for the annual Tem Gala were the place to be for anyone who was anyone. Galactic news - both reputable and ragged - covered the event to catch sight of the wild and beautiful outfits donned by the elite, notable, celebritous and otherwise remarkable denizens of the galaxy. So far a wide swath of actors, singers, political figures, and high-profile business types had made their way up the long, wide stairway - stopping, of course, to allow an endless cascade of photographs to be taken along the way. Among the crowd currently haltingly ascending stood out one rarely-seen form.
. Garbed in a long, cream-colored furisode-style robe with panel sleeves hung just short of dragging the ground as they trailed from his form, Alex Draconis, Grand Duke of the Lyarna System stood posed in a position of graceful power. One foot clad in a midnight blue boot accented with gold trim was planted two steps above the other, giving a casual lean to his stance. His widespread arms - both inviting but also clearly exercising his control over the situation - brilliantly displayed the gorgeous artwork painted upon the sleeve panels of the kimono. The left depicted an idyllic and lush forest scene, with tall trees spread about and a group of humans relaxing in their shade - a scene of a Mand’alor long since dead and forgotten by all except one. The right sleeve displayed a scene of a man kneeling before a council of others, a rolled parchment being held out toward him as he reached out to accept. There was more than a passing resemblance between this man and the one wearing the outfit, though the significance of the scene remained a mystery. Wrapped around his waist was a black kaku obi inlaid with a golden diamond pattern which joined at the center into a golden Mythosaur skull; tucked into this sash was a black folding fan, closed. Atop all, his face was adorned with a half-mask, the lower half plainly visible while from the nose up aside from the eyes was obscured behind the shiny golden visor, complete with detailed ram’s horns in the same metal curling back from the temples of the mask and resting through his hair just atop his ears.
. Holocams tracked him as he let loose a boisterous guffaw, drawing turned heads not only from the onlookers but also several nearby attendees who were likewise making their way into the event.
“A glorious evening will be had, for sure, and all in service of the beautiful nature of our continued existence!” His voice rang out clear and crisp, though the contents thereof caused more than a little confusion. Alex was not here for idle enjoyment - well…not entirely, at least. There was a strong chance that at least some of the representatives here this evening from the Severian Principate were working against the interests of the Brotherhood and possibly against the interests of the Principate itself. That was unacceptable, and Alex along with a small crew of other skilled, driven individuals had been sent here to root out these mountebanks so that they could be dealt with appropriately.
Revs walked up the steps into the Gala, pointing and smiling for the cameras. He had fake credentials made marking him as some playboy billionaire from some backwater outer rim planet. By the time anyone was able to verify they were fake he would be long gone.
He wore a custom fit taylored black suit decked out with fancy jewelry. He had replaced his usual headband that covered his eyes with a pair of dark name brand sunglasses. This was by far the most expensive set of clothes he now owned and he was definitely cheesing it up with the attention he was receiving.
The Miraluka walked in and made his way to the bar grabbing a drink from a passing waitress. He leaned against the bar and started to observe the other guest. The mission was simple find the traders, but he at the moment he was definitely more interested in the party itself.
Zig was in her element. Alex had resisted at first but then caved, like the big softy he was under his armor. It was not a budgetary issue, but more of a concern for what would happen if she was somehow caught or compromised.
Zig, of course answered by pointing to her array of tools™. Her ichor blade was on the table in easy reach, and she had rigged the door with stun explosives if anyone opened it without her giving a pass.
She wore a headset earpiece and a skin-tight body suite. No armor. She did not give anyone an explanation of why. Her hair was pulled back into a tail that poked out of the back of an athletic holoball cap. She chewed gum and made little bubbles because, ambiance was important when you were doing an OPERATION. Super secret stuff.
Around her was a ray of camera feeds and her terminal, a data pad, and a bunch of other electrical devices and buttons.
“Got you guys clear on cams,” Zig explained. “Revs…are you really wearing sunglasses inside!?” The Zygerrian’s voice piped into his invisible earpiece.
The Tem Gala never truly began until Calyx Vorn made his entrance. Or so he told himself.
He arrived late, naturally - late enough to make people turn, early enough to ensure the holocams were still there. Plum velvet shimmered under the lights, trimmed in silver at every turn. His cape swept behind him in deliberate excess. Assistants hurried to keep it off the marble, and Calyx spread his arms wider, granting the stagehands their moment in his performance.
Some of the holocam operators blinked in half-recognition at the striking pink-skinned Zeltron with rose-gold hair styled to look effortless. Wasn’t he that holo-drama star from Coruscant? The dueling serial that ended in scandal, the doomed romance that burned hot and collapsed faster still? Forgotten to most, remembered by just enough, even here in Principate space.
Calyx basked in their uncertainty as if it were applause. “At last, the star has arrived. Please - contain your applause until after the second act.”
The grand hall was a stage, and he claimed it with every step. He made a mental circuit of the room, marking chandeliers, tables, and gowns with the eye of a performer surveying a set. The air smelled of old money and fresh power.
It was perfect.
A waiter approached with a tray of crystal flutes. Calyx plucked one and raised it, performing for the man- for a moment, the evening’s true audience.
“Ah, the galaxy’s most thankless role: the one who carries the drinks. Tonight, you’ve carried me.” He toasted the startled servant, sipped, and turned away with cape and ego trailing in tandem.
He didn’t acknowledge the eyes he knew belonged to his companions. They were there, of course. But on his stage, they were extras, and extras didn’t get lines.
The barcounter full of dignitaries and marks called to him. He leaned an elbow against the counter, smile fixed and knowing, claiming the space like it had been reserved for him alone.
A faint crackle touched his ear, Zig’s voice on the line: “Revs…are you really wearing sunglasses inside!?”
Calyx didn’t twitch. He gave a soft laugh into his glass, the sound passing for private amusement. “Everyone thinks they’re the star of the show these days,” he murmured, loud enough to turn the head of the medalled official next to him. To the room, it was nothing but Calyx being Calyx: amused at the crowd, the chandeliers, the sound of his own voice. To the comm line, it was answer enough.
Alex subvocalized, being picked up by the mic concealed in the ornate golden wireframe choker he wore as he ascended the remaining steps and made his way through the doors into the cocktail hour event which was ongoing. Bone induction receivers buried within the visor made contact with his temples. Both measures ensured he could stay in contact with his fellow field operatives as well as the Zig-in-the-van without being overheard either way.
“I promise you, Zig, sunglasses indoors will be among the least outrageous things we see worn tonight.” He grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing tray as he walked, scanning across the crowd for any likely targets. “We have all seen the dossiers - at least I hope we all paid more than passing attention to them - so keep eyes sharp. Generally we should be looking for fairly boring looking individuals. Your average political envoy would not be able to afford anything terribly extravagant to wear, and any of the ones important enough to truly stand out are too obvious to make a move at an event like this. They’d have aides or assistants handle that kind of movement.”
. A small handful of potentials stood out, and he mentally catalogued each one to make sure to make efforts to approach each one of them. A sip from his champagne glass as he passed a small cluster of tittering debutantes, flashing them a sparkling grin and a wink as he swung about to slip through toward a hightop table where he could perch until it was time to make his move.
“Zig, see what access you can get to the side rooms and possibly even back corridors. We can keep things handled and in sight here in the main room. It is what we are not seeing that I am concerned about.”
Revs picked up his glass of burning and started to walk around. “Don’t worry boss. Ive already got a few possible suspects that have gotten my attention.” He said while checking out a tall human woman in a tight dress who had just passed him. “Zig if it makes you happy I can take the sunglasses off.”
“I’m just kidding, hawkeye, you’re good.”
Her fingers danced across her terminal as her eyes filtted left and right between her array of screens. “I’ll see what I can do, boss”.
.
“Do you guys ever wonder what we’re doing here?” Zig asked, suddenly sounding introspective.
“Like what we were hired to do, or what we want to do?” Revs asked. “Because those are two total different things.”
“I meant in general. Like the whole cycle of operations and missions and going up against these different organizations who want to fight us just because we…exist? Why are we doing another heist or infiltration? Why…”
She trailed off, getting distracted by the security camera feed. There was someone who looked familiar, a shadow, tall and powerful, but when she blinked her eyes, she realized it couldn’t be. She had left, once again. You could tell when Aphotis’ presense was in a system, and even to her untrained senses, she clearly wasn’t.
“Anyway, seems like the same thing over and over again, is all. Boss, Calyx?”
“You better be careful. Asking questions like that is what lead me to drinking…….more.” Revs said as he sat down at a table. He took a long drink from his glass and followed up. “Plus as I learned during my time trying to run away from all this…..there’s not a lot of normal people jobs that don’t give you funny looks when the only thing on your resume is blind Force sensitive hitman. Anyway what about the rest of y'all?”