A Great Opportunity, the Best Opportunity

[Rowan Harlow]

Finishing the last drag of his cigar, Rowan put the stub out and left it in the ash tray in the waiting room. The office they were in belonged to the head of Trump Productions, the largest and most trusted media company in the Imperial Republica. The hope was that he and his mentor of sorts, Eddard Thul-Drast, could convince this man to become a bit more pro-Imperial in his productions. Something the two of him could guide him to do, if needed. That was Plan A, the best solution to their current problem. If he wasn't willing to listen to a reasonable proposal, though...Well, there was always Plan B.

His red hair was cut to ear length, his bangs fixed so that it fell just over his right eye in a way that was stylish yet not inhibiting his view. He wore a black bowler hat over his crimson locks, making his striking green eyes pop just that little bit more. The white coat he wore over a black undershirt was of the quality found among typical nobility, the black pants and deep brown shoes he wore making look incredibly well dressed. He had fitted the clothes himself, though, which meant that despite their looks they also gave him excellent mobility that was almost deceptive for their style. In his hands was a cane, it's head made out of carved Tiger's Eye and fancy enough to be found in any part of the Emperor's court. His lightsaber was hidden, not to be used to but out of sight to not give off the wrong impression. For now he waited for the two of them to be let in to see the head of the company, longer than they were initially told. Typical. He hoped Eddard wouldn't be too upset by the intentional delay.

@Nefieslab @Deviant

 

[Eddard Thul Drast]

Standing by the window, looking out at the skyline of Coruscant, he would admit that this guy had something of an eye for prime real estate. Everything else he had heard about this man was less than stellar but, perhaps, they were nothing but tall tales and this man was actually rather intelligent and reasonable?

He doubted it, considering he had already heard some of the man's loud exclamations through the walls in the waiting room he was currently stood in with Rowan. The only reason he had lit up a cigara with Rowan while they waited was because of that outburst actually - it did not exactly inspire a lot of hope that this meeting was going to go swimmingly. He took another pull on the cigara as he stood there in his tailored suit, waiting to see the owner.

His suit was styled to current trend on Coruscant and he hated it - there was never a good reason to wear a bow tie but it seemed that bow ties were currently 'in'.

Eddard decided then and there that he would just stick to what was comfortable and inoffensive in the future instead. Stubbing out his cigara in an ashtray, he glanced at Rowan for a second before returning to looking out at the skyline of the capital of the Empire.

"The view really is something." he spoke quietly, "All the landmarks that are actually worth seeing... all in one window."

He hummed and almost smirked a little before his face straightened again.

@Deviant @Insalius @Rowan Harlow

 

[The Storyteller]

His suit was made of wool sheared from only the cleanest assholes of the whitest sheep. His hair was breathtakingly natural, with every unnatural thread sewn into his head as if alive, like an albino straddled over his scalp. His yellowed teeth was stained with a hundred different flavors of the most exotic wines collected from every corner of the galaxy. Everything about John Donald led to one clear answer: he was the wealthiest, goddamn man on Coruscant. Aside from the Emperor, and other royalty, and virtually everyone else. Being ass deep in debt and tax evasion did not make him much of a leading model of wealth and success.

Still, he was one of the most prolific entrepreneurs of his time. Trump Education, Trump Steaks, and last but certainly not least, Trump Productions. Why trump? Because he was a triumph. Without a doubt. His cars, his toilets and his showers were golden. The man was an icon throughout the Imperial Republica. Yet through and through, he always felt surrounded by a pack of idiots. “What do you mean the Old Empire’s at war with us? That’s ridiculous! Don’t be ridiculous. They could never.” The holographic men and women at the conference table looked to one another, incredulous.

John’s personal assistant leaned in and whispered something into his ear. He scowled. “Oh, yes.” He ignored his previous outburst as if it never happened. “Those goddamn Sith. Dusty old pricks, I say. I always knew they were trouble! Taking our jobs, bringing in crime. I’m glad their gone.” A scoff. “That Darth Vrael. What kind of name even is that? Pfffft. Crooked Sith. We might as well build a tremendous—“ His secretary stopped him short. “Mister J, the guests are here. They’re waiting outside.”

“Ah, ah. Ah.” He said nonchalantly and waved her away. “Meeting adjourned then.” With the flick of his wrinkled hand, the holograms of each and every executive disappeared. Their seats left open for the two to slip into, now that the doors were opened to their arrival. Meanwhile, he would make no greeting, just a sullen look more in line with a chapped asshole than distant brooding. “Can I help you..?”

@Insalius @Nefieslab

 

[Rowan Harlow]

In an instant it was time for their appointment, no warning whatsoever. How typical, so much so that when the time came Rowan was already prepared for it. He slid into the room and chair as if that had been the plan all along, though he did give their host a polite bow and extended his hand for a greeting handshake before doing so. Perhaps stroking the man's ego would be the best way to go about the meeting. Everything about John Donald offended Rowan, especially how fake the man was. He could swear that the man's hair piece was still moving from whatever endangered animal they had used to craft the thing. The suit was also just as bad, what was it made of, wool from a sheep's asshole? The man didn't know a goddamn thing about fashion. Yet they were at his mercy, nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, Rowan started to speak. "Mr. John, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Rowan Harlow and this is my business partner, Eddard Thul-Drast." He let the last part of Eddard's name hang in the air a moment, willing to use anything he could for these negotiations. "Your office is a thing of wonder, I must say. The way you have built your business empire is also astonishing. And you know what they say about those with large hands, I must say yours are the largest I've ever seen. You must be blessed to be so well...endowed, shall we say." He smiled, trying to butter the man up as much as possible. "We have a proposal for you, based on some recent events. Here, allow my assistant to explain a bit further." He hoped Eddard didn't feel like he would always be in this position. This was all just an act, he knew that his true place was at Eddard's command, not vice versa.

@Nefieslab @Deviant

 

[Eddard Thul Drast]

Eddard thanked his years of living as a noble - it was the only thing that stopped him from gaping at the owner when he finally saw him for the first time. He had heard stories about how the man looked and he had seen some pictures and the like but none of it had properly prepared him.

The man looked like the orange cousin of a karking Zeltron.

Were they sure this man wasn't a Xeno of some kind? His hair piece certain looked like it should be scarpering around the forest floor on the forest moon of Endor or something. If it turned out the this buffoon was actually a Xeno it would probably be easier to plant some evidence and have the creature arrested. But no, he was reasonably sure that their contact was a human man.

A karking weird one with a face like a permanently puckered arsehole but, still, human.

"Mr John - a pleasure to meet you." he lied through his teeth with a small smile firmly in place, "My family has told me much about you and I couldn't wait to meet you for myself."

His grandmother had spent three hours on her last birthday lecturing them all on how the man was a idiot. Three hours had been the limit because then she'd gotten too wine drunk to continue.

@Deviant @Insalius

 

[The Storyteller]

“Rowan Harlow? What kind of name is that? And why are you dressed like an eccentric fictional character from a children’s book?” The creased orange scoffed, already digging into his new guests like they were nothing. For in truth, they were. He was the founder of Trump Productions, possible creator of the known universe. What right did they have to walk up into his personal conference room and start an outpouring of flattery? Not that he didn’t welcome it. He did have big hands. Very big hands. The biggest. Among other things— like his headquarters, his transport. Lots of things.

Welcoming the compliments, he raised a well-groomed brow. “A proposal? Does it involve a wall? Alright, okay. I’m listening.” The crinkled cheeto answered, slumping into his seat and crossing him arms as his attention, slowly but surely, hovered to the other man. Instead of elaborating further, however, all he did was add in another introduction and basic pleasantries. It didn’t get to the point nor was there any wall involved. John would have to give it a solid 1/10, would not listen again. Already, his chapped lips puckered and his head tiled forward like a flailing animal. “Is that all?”

He waved his hand dismissively into the air. “Where is this so-called proposal you have to offer? I’m listening for something great but I’m hearing nothing. Just blah, blah, blah.” His hand turned into a makeshift puppet mouth, whiny and moving in tandem with his words. Scowl set on his face, the featherless rooster bore his eyes into the second man who failed to elaborate. He looked strangely familiar. Almost like an old woman he had met not too long ago. A memory he was not too fond of given she had whined something about being royalty and respect, as if it mattered. There was just blood everywhere, out of her eyes, out of her whatever. A total hag.

@Insalius

 

[Rowan Harlow]

Rowan resisted the urge to glance over at Eddard, wondering why the man hadn't explained as he had been asked to. He knew it was most likely because, just like he was, Eddard was taken aback by the creature that sat on the other side of the table from them. His mind idly wondered if this was perhaps an overly large Wermal, that could be the only thing that explained the color of the skin and need for a headpiece as well as the stench he was now experiencing from the man's breath. It was taking all of his self-control to not wretch, wondering again just how such a miserable being could even exist as he did. Didn't he realize how he looked? It was not in an approving way. Instead, Rowan mustered a smile as he tried to salvage their negotiations.

"Allow me to explain a bit better. I'm certain you've heard of the 'Old Empire' that has been starting to act out against our Emperor. Vrael, the pretender, is trying to slander our Emperor's good name with lies. While I trust in the people to know truth from lie, I also know that some can be easily swayed with a powerful enough personality. In the name of the Emperor, we wish to avoid that and keep the public opinion of him as positive as possible. To that end, I was wanting to ask if you would like to enter in a sort of partnership with us, to deliver this message to the people in the right way. Perhaps it would be a bit cheaper than building a giant space wall between us and them." He gave a small smile, hoping the man appreciated the small joke. The wall WAS a joke, right?

@Nefieslab @Deviant

 

[Eddard Thul Drast]

By everything in the history of the Sith Empire and before he wanted to kill this ugly stain of a man and just take over his assets by declaring he had been a secret xeno looking to undermine the Empire. But no, that wasn't a good idea. Instead he merely continued to bite back his instincts because his instincts were telling him the multitude of ways he could make the fat, useless, lump of a man beg him for the sweet relief of death with just what was in this room.

Was it some kind of Force technique? For the man to be so very easy to hate?

He didn't know, he just knew that he resisted the urge to actually visit violence upon him and that was a very near thing. He took up the line that Rowan was feeding him.

"The people need to know that they're slandering the Emperor and important figures, such as youself, with news that they have faked." he shook his head, "They say the Emperor is weak, that you aren't actually as rich as you say you are - these lies are getting air time."

Eddard gestured to Rowan and himself.

"Rowan here is excellent at not only sniffing out lies but turning it back on those who said them in the first place." he assured their target, "Partner with us and not only will we stop the fake news, we'll make them look like idiots and we'll all make lots of credits doing it. Of course as a senior partner, you'd get the biggest cut."

Flattery, lies and pandering... it was like trying to convince a child to give up a toy.

@Deviant
@Insalius

 

[The Storyteller]

…and if Eddard knew children well enough, he would know they never cared to share.

“Fake news?” He slammed his wrinkled fist into the table. “I hate fake news!” A high-pitched groan, no less louder than a child’s, escaped his cracked lips. “And how dare they mock me. Saying I’m not rich, not the wealthiest man alive. I should have them all executed. Banned from Imperial space!” The unripe tomato murmured a few more words angrily to himself. “This is a tremendous problem. A huge problem. Very huge, like my hands.” He stopped to admire them for a moment. “This must be fixed. The Imperial Republica must be made great again.”

The rotten pumpkin could care less about the Emperor, hence no mention of him whatsoever. What only mattered was John Donald and the second biggest piece of his career, Trump Productions, the first being the Trump University of Anaxes. “If these lies are getting air, then I will un-air them.” He said, not so eloquently but enough in his book. Or pamphlet, if one considered the full range of his vocabulary. “But no. Just, no.” The moldy orange squinted to the two men across the table, his eyes almost vanishing into his sockets, as he continued. “This is Trump Productions. Not Rowan Wallow Productions—“ He gestured to the man in the top hat, then to the less attractive one. “—or Thul-Drast Productions, whatever kind of name that is. A dumb name, I say.”

Remaining totally oblivious to Imperial royalty, John hissed. “This is the worst deal in the history of deals— and I don’t do partners. I do me, myself and I.” He pointed, and almost beat, his chest. “No deal. You’re fired. Get out.” He waved his hand dismissively, already tired of the conversation. After all, his attention span could last only so long. In fact, he had heard nothing of the proposal except for partnership, giant space wall and fake news. Big words he hated big time. And like the triggered executive he was, John ordered half a dozen guards to escort the pair of idiots out of the building and back on the streets where they belonged.

@Insalius @Nefieslab

 

[Rowan Harlow]

And in record time, Rowan and Eddard found themselves ejected from the building by the Cheddar-colored tyrant. He knew that the two of them could have handled the guards if they needed, yet that would just ultimately be lost assets. The meeting had gone just about as he had thought that it would, though he found out that the Head of the company was an unbelievable ass and incredibly incompetent. How such a person could achieve any measure of authority was mind-boggling, wondering if it had been the will of the Force to put such an idiot in such a position to make it so relishing for when he fell to their machinations. And fall he would, especially with the Plan B that he had come up with in case the vain hope of Plan A had failed.

Calling their luxury speeder taxi, Rowan helped Eddard inside before bidding the driver to take them to the spaceport. He lit a cigar as he finished the order, needing to relieve some stress. "I knew the rumors of the man, but in person...He's far worse than I expected. Still, I've already planned for his refusal. I've got some leads on the executives of his board of directors, the ones that can oust him with a unanimous vote. The pompous ass must have thought that anyone turning against him was an impossible scenario. For us, it's just five people we have to 'convince' to back us instead. This is where we get our hands dirty. Are you ready for the fun to start?" He gave a wry smile as he offered his friend a cigar.

@Nefieslab

 

[Eddard Thul Drast]

Fired?

The idea that that stuck up little orange could fire him was something that riled Eddard up something fierce but he kept his cool and he left. He did, however, make sure that the one guard who went to touch him had his fingers curl backwards, breaking all of the finger bones, before he declared that he could walk himself out. Once they were out he scowled a little bit.

Climbing into the speeder, Eddard took the offered cigar and lit it quickly. He was in a foul mood that much was clear to anyone. His eyes were flashing yellow, a sure sign that he was angry, and the air around him felt heavy, tense, as the Force layered itself several times around him. It was a technique he used to calm himself - to mould the Force without purpose before letting it go. He breathed out some smoke.

"If this doesn't work?"

He took a pull on his cigar.

"I'll pull his spine out through his mouth." he promised bluntly, glancing at Rowan, "But we'll try it your way first."

@Insalius