Byllurun

As Mariah reached the skyscraper of a building, she paused only for a moment to glance upwards. She had no guarantee that this Lord Ifrit Bladeweaver would even be here, and even if he was, getting to him would be another challenge by the looks of it. Either way, she needed to start somewhere. Before making her entrance into building, though, a moving sign scrolling over the face of the building caught her attention.

Welcome to the SoroSuub Corporation!

She would see if there truly would be a welcome...

As she pressed her way through the entrance, two different scenarios ran through her mind. She could either force her way through; however, this would cause a stir over a hunch. The other option was less desirable. As if signalling an ill omen over her mission, her decision was already made, automated sensors at the door alighting. At the ready, two armed guards came to meet her. With a short huff of a sigh, Mariah lowered the hood of her cloak and looked over at the two of them in a silent question. She could see the sternness in their eyes melt away for just a moment as they caught sight of her face, a short-lived weakness in their guard. Of course, like those before them, they didn’t take her seriously. Perhaps it was time to learn to capitalize on that.

“I’m sorry, miss, but you’ll need to leave your weapons outside before we can let you proceed.”

Miss. Inwardly, Mariah sneered at the mention, but outwardly, she kept a stoic expression. She exposed the silver hilt of her lightsaber from beneath her cloak with an outstretched palm.

“Apologies,” she murmured. “It’s like putting on shoes before walking out the door.” They seemed to accept her answer, even if they didn’t lessen their guarded stance, the hands on the trigger of their guns. “It was quite a ways to get here. Do you mind holding onto it for me while I tend to my business here? I promise I won’t be long.”

The two men exchange a glance. She was a terrible deception artist, yet one of them still nodded in answer. “You don’t look like one of them Sith,” he muttered, snatching her saber from her hand.

Mariah felt her jaw lock the moment he seized her weapon. She would get it back one way or another. For the end goal, though -- to locate this person she sought -- this soul-wracking inconvenience was necessary. “That’s because I’m not,” she whispered in response, pushing past the guards. “Excuse me.”

“...so she’s a Jedi…?” the other questioned, turning around to glance over his shoulder at her.

“Not one of those either,” she called back.

Paying neither of them any more attention, despite their ever eager conversation between each other, Mariah approached the front desk, where a pretty young woman was hooked up to the nines with an earpiece, computer, and other gadgets. Despite how terribly busy she seemed, her eyes glanced up over at the approaching woman and offered a warm smile, almost robotically. Those two knuckleheads didn’t seem to notice the obvious. Hopefully she wouldn’t either.

“Welcome to the SoroSuub Corporation. How may I assist you?”

Perhaps she really was a high-tech droid of some sort. Her voice was cheery, as if the multitudes of things she was working on had no effect on her whatsoever. Mariah shrugged it off. Unimportant information at this moment in time.

“I’m here to attend to the meeting with Master Ifrit Bladeweaver.”

Either he was here or he wasn’t. The woman’s brow furrowed, however, as she began furiously typing away. With her discoveries, the woman hummed thoughtfully before turning back to Mariah with an apologetic but confused expression.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t have on here that anyone but, uh... Master Bladeweaver would be meeting with our CEO today.” Despite her bad news, she still tried to offer some sort of empathetic response. Either she really was a high-tech droid, or the SoroSuub Corporation managed to brainwash their sentient workers into being the ideal employees for their clients.

However, Mariah now knew that Ifrit Bladeweaver was in the building. That’s all the leverage she needed. For a moment, she glanced over her shoulder and back at the two guards, specifically the one which held her saber. She could retrieve it, kill them, and storm the building; however, she knew that those two guards would quickly multiply the moment she made her first strike. Then, there was the matter of the elevator. Locked shut and only accessible by a key code. She sighed in defeat. This poor yet somehow successful charade would need to continue.

With a controlled exhale, Mariah closed her eyes, reaching out over the tower to sense each individual present. Each flickering life force with their own little differences, marking them in the Force. There should be one, however, that she recognized even briefly from times past. At the very top, she felt it. Its familiarity was smothered in vicious hate, which was being devoured by another smug presence. Lesser than his. So how did it hold so much false power? She inhaled, her eyes meeting the woman again.

“I was brought here on orders to assist Master Bladeweaver.” She hoped her bluff wouldn’t be caught. “We’ve heard news that he’s been having issues with negotiating with the SoroSuub Corporation. I’m here to hopefully remedy that.”

The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully as she turned away from Mariah. However, she lifted a hand to her earpiece and called for someone within the building. A flip of a coin: either her bluff was caught and the woman was calling security, or she actually was calling up to glean more information into Mariah's claims. If there was one thing she had going for in this scenario, at the very least, she had been in higher stake scenarios. She wasn’t nervous nor showed any reason that she wasn’t genuine. Perhaps that’s why the woman didn’t call security.

“Yes, how is the meeting going between… Oh, really? Yes… Yes… I see….” The woman blinked a few times as she glanced over at Mariah and offered a nervous smile. “I understand… Well, a woman has come claiming to be a mediator for Mister Bladeweaver… Should I send…? Yes… I understand. I will.” The woman lowered her hand from her earpiece and offered a warmer smile to Mariah now. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble. Security procedures. I’m sure you understand.” She cleared her throat nervously. “I’ll have an escort lead you up to be debriefed on the top floor. I’m sure our CEO will welcome a set of… listening ears.”

With a hum in acknowledgement, Mariah turned, and with it, another guard had approached her and silently guided her towards the elevator. Using his key pass, he opened the doors, led them both in, and pressed the button to take them to the top of the building. The doors closed shut, and as the elevator made its upwards journey, there was nothing but the whooshing mechanics to fill the silence. Mariah took this moment to gather herself mentally. She despised politics, perhaps as much as Ifrit did, judging by the flickers in his signature. However, she hated one thing more than politics: waiting idly.

The door to the elevator opened, and the guard escorted her out, where she was brought into another large foyer area, although considerably smaller than the one on the first floor. There was another desk at the heart, and another person, this time a man, awaiting for her to approach. The guarded nodded towards Mariah before shutting the elevator to make his descent back down. It was a good thing she wasn’t having any second thoughts about this plan of hers, as she was now here without a way down.

Before Mariah had approached the desk, the man extended an arm to guide her crimson gaze from all of the doors which surrounded her, each surely with their own view of the city, towards a set of double doors that were positioned regally on the other side of the desk. While these doors appeared sturdy, they weren’t soundproof. A bellowing could be heard on the other side. Mariah narrowed her eyes as she tried to decipher the conversation: perhaps the better word choice, though, was threat.

“Welcome, love," the man offered, attempting to pull Mariah's attention away from the doors now to his devilish smile he attempted to make charming. He reeked of loud cologne, perhaps yet another way to draw attention to himself along with his poor attempts at charisma. Maybe he needed to draw such attention to be noticed in the presence of the higher hierarchy. "To be completely honest with you, I wasn't sure how our CEO would take to another entering the fray,” he admitted with a sly grin on his face, “but there’s a reason I’m here as his personal secretary, and now that I've got a good look at you, something tells me that you’re just the pretty little piece he needs…”

To be sure, if this political meeting went ideally for Mariah, she’d be sure to slit his throat upon their exit for that little quip. For now, though, she simply breathed in a steady breath as he jerked his chin towards the door, signalling to her that she was welcome to interrupt this meeting. Her gaze motioned away as she approached the doors, the secretary's chuckling a dissonant chord with the buzzing of the door. The twin doors slide open, and she stepped forward, making her presence known to the two inside. The doors slid shut, and with it, she motioned with her hand, her cloak fluttering from her body, as her crimson gaze flickered between the two.

"Greetings, sir... Master Bladeweaver... I hope I haven't gotten you a bad time." Her smooth tones dripped with sarcasm, knowing very well of the heated argument she just interrupted.

The moment the crimson haired woman was acknowledged by the two, she walked into the room until she was poised at the CEO’s desk. Her eyes had glanced towards Ifrit’s direction. She could feel the Force warping around her, and it wasn’t by her own accord. While it was harmless, it was invasive. She held back a verbal growl, but her eyes narrowed upon her. His smirk signaled he realized quickly that she was an ally, and what more, he was pleased with her ability to sneak in not just one, but six daggers. The knuckleheads guarding the doors didn’t know what hit them the moment they allowed her passage after accepting her saber. There was more than one way to skin a cat. Still, Ifrit’s poking around was met with a trick of her own, and she sent a ping into his mind. Harmless. A warning, before he delved too deep, although it was probably much too late for such things now.

And from the other? She had heard it all today. Sith. Jedi. And now sex slave. Despite all of the name calling she endured, she met it all with that same stoic gaze. Leaning over with her hands on his desk, she cocked her head to the side. Her crimson eyes focused upon the CEO with a thoughtful, judging gaze.

“You can say I’m a mediator of sorts…” Ifrit’s personal request resonated in her mind, sending a dry smile to curl at the corners of her lips. “Although for you, my name is now of little importance.”

Oh, how she despised politics, but these kinds of political dealings were something she was more than pleased to take part in. She had kept her secret lying in wait behind her, hidden from view, although this Lord Bladeweaver was sure to have sensed it as he stripped her down. The only thing stopping her: she was almost positive that he would have wanted to do the honor himself, but she wouldn’t refuse such a request.

Although she had brought six daggers, she only needed one for this one. Prepped and waiting behind her person, the dagger now floated over her left shoulder by the wielding of the Force. With the dagger's pointed end focused upon him, she allowed the CEO a momentary pause of realization to the true cross he bore this day upon holding that title of the SoroSuub Corporation.

“An opportune moment indeed,” she murmured.

She sent the dagger screaming towards him, aiming to pierce his skull between the eyes. Just as all spineless beings of the universe, however, they couldn’t stare death in the eyes without attempting to run from the inevitable. His movements were too slow in comparison, his fleeing only serving one purpose. The blade struck his temple, and his momentum sent him falling to the floor with a rather impressing 'THUD'. Perhaps not as colorful as Ifrit may have liked -- she would have enjoyed a moment longer to revel in his shock and fear herself -- but it got the job done. With Mariah only freshly acquainted to the both of them, she had no desire to prolong matters.

Without missing a beat, Mariah brushed by Ifrit to tend to the body and retrieve her blade. Paying no mind the blood that spilled from the wound as she freed her dagger, she absent-mindedly cleaned the blade on the inside of her cloak. She remained silent while she did this, her movements almost ritualistic until the blade was affixed back upon her belt. It was only then that she tended to other matters and sighed in minor frustration to the noise of the falling corpse as she remembered how easily it was to hear such things on the other side of the door.

“What’s your plan now?” she asked glancing over her shoulder towards Ifrit only momentarily as she stood back to her full height.

Her gaze flickered over towards the doors, and with it, she stretched out to sense the lackey in the other room. He hadn’t shifted an inch. His emotions had not fluctuated. He knew nothing. Good. They were at least in the clear for the next few moments, but understanding exactly what this Lord Bladeweaver had in mind for this little excursion was now her top priority. While she had no qualms with being tossed into a war, she preferred to at least understand how they planned to be victorious. Surely, he would not have just ordered the execution of the CEO without some sort of plan...

Mariah hid the roll of her eyes with the little bit of snark she could hear, or at least that which she took for snark. Naturally, he would have to explain himself again. All she could hear from behind the doors before waltzing into their little meeting was muffled, angry gibberish. Naturally, she would need him to reiterate himself, but that’s what he would need to endure as punishment for giving that explanation to the wrong party -- the one who was now dead on the ground.

“...and how do you propose we go after all those he ever loved and cared for…?” she shot back, watching him with a critical crimson eye. “Are you going to send me off to destroy this whole building from the inside out, then paint the city red in their blood?”

She cocked her head, feigning curiosity, but it was evident in her derisive tones that her question didn’t need an actual answer. That was the only coherent sentence she heard as she walked through the door. The idea was amusing, even though she was sure he had a plan to carry out that threat as well, which would come in time.

“You should know with those prying eyes of yours that I’m of little help to you in that regard.” A wound on her right side. Minor, just enough to have torn open and cauterized the skin and not cause any lasting or fatal damage, but still a debilitating one that left her movements limited if she wanted to avoid the pain. “Consider this the last of your dirty work I’m doing today.”

She didn’t realize how far from the truth that statement would be. For now, though, there were others things to be dealt with. The state of the third soul she felt in the room had explained her earlier question: how did the weaker, smug one have the upper hand over Ifrit? His physical body seemed to fit the presence she sensed well enough. No doubt, if she didn’t play her cards right, she might not walk out with the master of sorcery and alchemy as she came here for, and instead turn out in worse condition than that cage was going to end up. Just as Ifrit enjoyed pushing personal boundaries, though, Mariah enjoyed pushing her own boundaries. Personalities, emotions -- where was the edge of their patience?

“As I said before, my name is not important for now. We’ll have time for formal introductions later.”

Maybe. Her name might have been a quicker explanation than that, but still, another curiosity of hers. Where were his limits? Nonetheless, Ifrit was hasty to save the enslaved woman in the cage. Mariah narrowed her eyes at him, but she didn’t attempt to stop him. It was a savage and barbaric way of going about things, but she supposed it got the job done. A man of his stature was probably used to doing things in a bit more hands-on. Still, Mariah’s crimson gaze glanced over the desk. Surely, there would’ve been an easier way of going about this. A trigger or button or something. Time was of the essence, though, and she would let him have his own fun. Even if it meant alerting the lackey-slash-secretary in the other room.

Without a word or introduction herself, the other woman rushed past her and started her work on the computer. Ifrit tended to the man, or so she thought. When she was offered the chance to kill him, she scoffed. Although she had just stated she wouldn’t do anymore of his dirty work today, she had made the mental note to kill this one anyway. A minor inconvenience, if Ifrit wanted to hold that against her. With a gliding movement of her hand, the same dagger that brought the CEO to his end listened to her silent bidding.

“Nothing personal, love,” she murmured, mocking his earlier disgusting attempts at charisma.

Boring ways to die -- a dagger between the eyes -- but the CEO didn’t allow her that satisfaction of a bulls-eye. She sent the dagger flying towards him, but he kept his eyes locked on her. He didn't try move, nor flee.

“Wait!” he yelled.

His pleads would have fallen on deaf ears, but the way he stared, unflinching, Mariah decided that she should get her own fun in some way in all of this. Ifrit was able to tear a cage from the wall. This other woman was cracking into the computer as they spoke. It would take them some time to get it all taken care of, so why in Chaos not?

Without even an inch of a gap between his skill and her blade, Mariah froze the dagger in place. “You have ten seconds to explain to me why we shouldn’t kill you.”

And the mental timer ticked down. Ten. “You think I didn’t know what your end goal was going to be?” he asked hurriedly. Eight… Seven… “I told you that I think you were just the piece that was needed...” Mariah’s eyes narrowed upon the Sullustan and his poor attempts at flattery, but with it, the timer ticked that much closer to zero. “We were working on overthrowing him, and you just helped us expedite the process.” He cleared his throat. Galactic Basic wasn’t something easy to speak in, but he was fluent enough for Mariah to keep her blade unwavering. “You’ll find a small group of allies here, like myself. Let us help and move forward with this opportunity you’ve given us, love.”

With a careful step, he attempted to step away from the dagger, hoping to approach Nymph. His intentions on the surface felt pure -- the desire to help in the small ways he could to reclaim the SoroSuub Corporation from the now-fallen CEO. However, Mariah still sent a warning shot. Her dagger pierced cleanly through the top of his right ear, and just as quickly, she double backed the dagger to menacingly float over the secretary. With her fun now over, Mariah glanced over towards Ifrit to see if he had any other plans for this one with the new information that came to light.

“Any more useful to you now or no?”

It could be considered a simple aftermath to the life she had been forced to lead. Always on guard, always prepared for another to try to challenge her. Life was something she would need to fight for, daily. Even if Ifrit didn’t know this, her hardened and harsh attitude was something easily noted. Even as he offered to take care of that wound, she only scoffed, lending no other answer towards such a generous offer.

Her athame still hung in the air, so delicately held within the Force as she waited for one answer or another. In a way, she had hoped he would offer a definitive answer one way or the other. ‘Yes’ or ‘no’. When it didn’t come, Mariah could only hum thoughtfully as she looked into the pleading eyes of the Sullustan, begging for his life. He opened his mouth, as if to try to continue and plead his case, even if there was nothing more he could say to change Mariah’s mind. She was most disappointed in the one who gave her the titles. Judge, jury, and executioner.

The blade was sent flying, striking the Sullustan secretary between the eyes. As before, he didn’t flinch away from having his own life taken from him. It at least granted Mariah that lost satisfaction from the CEO and the satisfaction of ridding this place of one more cocky bastard who tried to overstep his boundaries with clients he didn't know.

From here, it was possibly just a matter of this other woman to finish up her job before they would be permitted to leave. A fact she had picked up gaining entry to this room, though, was the access to the elevator. As Mariah retrieved her blade, repeating those same meticulous steps as she had taken with the CEO, she took a brief moment after the fact to look over his person. Easily enough, she found a key card kept to his person. Mariah stashed it, just in case they might need it during their escape of sorts.

It was only after all of this was finished that she finally turned to Lord Bladeweaver, her crimson eyes now locked upon him with a keen sense of interest in the work he was doing here on Sullust. When she had come here, she inwardly cringed at the idea of politics. This was not was she was expecting.

"Senior Director Ammon Steele and a pile of misfits spread anonymously throughout the corporation," Mariah murmured, crossing her arms over her chest. "How ever shall you handle the follow-ups to this little political meeting of yours?"

She offered a dry smile to her question. He didn’t need to answer. Even if he felt the need, though, the simple motion of crossing her arms over her chest had caused her to cringe at the wound on her side. She only revealed the slightest of flinches to the pain, though, but it was still enough to signal that she was, indeed, still experience a high amount of pain from it. Her jaw locked as she tried to steady her expressions, but the thing of the matter was, her aura had flickered more heavily from it. One who relied on the Force for sight, if paying attention, would have been clear to have seen it. At this point, she could only hope that he was too engrossed in his work to have noticed.

Mariah watched Ifrit with a critical gaze as he gave his explanation anyway regarding her question laced with sarcasm. It caught her attention, at least, that he answered practically and nonchalantly, without paying any mind to her. Even after watching her firsthand kill two little bugs, one at his command and the other by her own wishes, snuffing out both lives like it was as natural as breathing -- he didn't question it, simply allowed it to be. Either he was incredibly foolish or more powerful than she was giving him credit for.

It was as though her thought was answered all too quickly, though, as he approached her. She could read no intention from him that he was out to harm her, but with his final step closing into her personal space, she ground her footing into a more even, defensive stance, and readied herself to strike with the very knife that she used against the CEO and his secretary. She had come here to learn from him, sure, but there were some things she wouldn't tolerate, even from the one she sought to mentor her.

His hand reached under her clothes, finding the hidden wound with ease, but in the same breath, Mariah attempted an upwards slash against his wrist with her athame as she attempted to duck under and away from him with another follow-up, non-fatal slash. However, the protective spell made his skin like beskar against the sharp edge of her knife. His hand still firm against the wound, her attempt at a fluid dodge only inhibited her further; a sharp pain screamed through her body from his touch. Her blade now pressed against his ribs, Mariah looked up at Ifrit with a livid fire within her crimson eyes.

His quiet incantations summoned the broken pieces -- skin, muscle, and all -- to mend themselves, turning weeks of healing into a single moment of focus. As his spells began to manifest, though, a soft shimmer of healing light glowed from a hidden source under Mariah's cloak. Wrapping with Ifrit's incantations, this other source of magic revealed itself, now amplified with Ifrit's incantation, and in turn, amplifying his effects as well. Working in tandem with the other, they ran their course, speeding up the process tenfold.

Mariah thought the pain from this wound couldn't be any worse than it was, but with the twin spells together, it was near unbearable. Despite her narrowed gaze which was still locked upon his, one of her knees buckled. Momentary increase in pain now, to be completely healed from the infliction. A fair enough trade. Finally lowering her blade, she growled low through her clenched teeth as she held herself steady, but at least now, her fiery gaze was broken away from his.

When Ifrit's work was finally finished, the light of the other spell faded until all was back to normal. When he expected an outburst, though, he witnessed something of the exact opposite. The moment his hand pulled away from her skin, now wholly mended, the woman turned her back to him and silently made her way over towards Nymph, who was still engrossed in pulling the files. Mariah stopped next to the desk, a hand pressing firmly against its surface as she spun her knife between her fingers with the other. She debated not saying anything at first, still seething at the multitude of things that just took place, all at once. Before Ifrit could say something himself to fill the silence, though, she passed a side glance over at him.

"You're a fool," she growled. "You have no idea who I am, and you still..."

This was the man she sought to mentor her. With a shake of her head, Mariah turned back to Nymph and watched what she could of her process. She wouldn't understand any of it, but it was at least something that dulled her anger and absolute disbelief.

"Mariah." She sighed. It was the answer to his earlier question, the one she attempted to dodge until a later time. "You can call me Mariah."

She took in a few steady breaths. It wasn't until her anger had ebbed before she ceased the idle blade twirling and rejoined it with its brethren.

"You have my blades at your disposal until we walk out of this building. I suggest you take advantage of it while you can."

She couldn't believe she was offering that now. Moments ago, she had made it clear she wouldn't do anymore of his dirty work. She offered no explanation for it. Her annoyance to the situation caused another spike in her rage, hopefully discouraging any questions regarding her attitude shift. Her eyes were locked upon Nymph, and she quickly tried to switch the conversation over the matters at hand.

"How much longer?"

His grin. His piqued interest. His inaudible whisper. She wasn’t ignorant to him or his reaction, even as she kept her eyes locked upon Nymph and awaited the completion of her project. In her silence, however, Mariah’s jaw locked, and her hand, which rested firmly against the desk, clenched into a fist as it fell to her side. The moment they walked out of this building, her debt would be repaid. A spoken promise, a rare occurrence for the crimson-haired woman, and her word was as strong as a blood-bound oath. Despite his apparent kindness in healing her, it would not douse her anger in this unfortunate turn of events, to owe herself to a stranger. Another fool who meddled in matters that didn’t concern him, and she viewed his silence to her offer as an unspoken agreement, even if it wasn’t truly the case.

When Nymph finally exclaimed the completion of her role, Mariah exhaled and stepped back from the desk. It may as well been a sigh of relief. The sooner this file was located and destroyed, the sooner they could leave. The sooner they left, the sooner she could finally speak with him regarding the reasons she sought him out. She wasn’t here to play with politics and help ascend another to the corporate throne, yet here she was, doing just that.

The two conversed, Mariah drowned out most of the conversation. She only picked up the little she felt necessary: this file, Ammon, the coup. These were matters that didn’t concern her, and unlike others who meddled in business that weren’t theirs, she kept herself at a distance. With that fleeting thought, her crimson gaze found Ifrit once more. However, with his question, she had nothing valuable to offer. Even if she did, Mariah wasn’t the type to deal in mere speculation anyway.

“There’s a way to find out,” she murmured, reaching back for the keycard she had taken off of the secretary upon removing her blades. Her sharp gaze fell upon Nymph. “Where is this Senior Director located?”

She was unsure if her inferred assistance would be accepted graciously or refused, but nonetheless, she had offered her services, and her mind was set to see this mission to fruition. In time, they would both understand her blades were more than just the mere weapons that rested upon her belt. Her thoughts returned; the sooner they had their answers, the sooner they could leave. With that reminder, mocking tones had dissipated as she turned to Ifrit.

“I’ll also need some additional information regarding this file and its importance to you, Master Bladeweaver.” Her eyes narrowed, a dry smile revealing itself faintly at the edges of her lips. “I would hate to be caught while setting my own trap.”

While espionage and deception were not her strong suits, she had managed to stay alive up until this point. That point extended past her mere experience here within the SoroSuub Corporation Headquarters. Her life was a large web of dodging and avoiding trouble, and when trouble still found her, it simply became a matter of getting out. While most scenarios only required her blades, she would be just as much a fool as she labeled Ifrit today, to deny the power, influence, and impact that a few well-chosen words had in others.

For the most part, Mariah's stare remained upon Nymph and her work as she started to pull the plans and locate where this Senior Director was located in this vast building. As Ifrit began his own explanation, she only offered the slightest cock of her head towards him, the crimson shifting to catch him out of the corner of her eye. Although she had no stakes in this mission, she knew she was tied here until it was seen to completion. It wasn't the best of situations, but like every other hand she had been dealt with in life, she would make due.

When Nymph shouted the reveal of Ammon's office, Mariah tore her gaze from Ifrit to the holoprojection. Her gaze narrowed upon the map and made note of all of Nymph's notes. For a beat, she said nothing, offered nothing, engrossed in memorizing all of the paths, security, utilities, every little detail that could change the outcome from here to there. All in a flash of a few seconds, before she pushed herself away from the desk.

Mariah approached Ifrit and looked him over with a strange fiery determination that wasn't there moments before. His question rang on deaf ears, though, as she outstretched a hand towards the cover to one of the ventilation shafts, sending the grill flying. While the spared information would greatly aid her, his questions screamed a dissonance she needed to resolve, and in the same breath, opened up a much easier avenue to seeing this to completion. She could see the way he looked at her, though, and as much as she wanted to wrap this up as quickly as possible, she had a shadowed feeling she would need to make this much more difficult on herself, if for the sole purpose of proving her use to him early on. This was the way of things.

'Undoubtedly aware.' She shook her head and exhaled a scoff. "I'll make myself as clear as I can, Master Bladeweaver," she said pointedly. "First Order, Blackguard, Jedi Order, what-have-you. I don't care." Her last words cut sharp, finalizing her point. "I don’t deal in politics. However, your answer to my question is appreciated. If there's personal information on the file, it'll make this that much easier..." Maybe. Although she didn't reveal that uncertainty in any form. With hastened movements, Mariah pulled out a pair of twin black gloves and slipped them on. "I'm here for one purpose, and that's to seek out an audience with you. Consider it a mutual benefit for both of us to take care of this as swiftly as possible."

Despite her words, she tossed the access card the elevator towards Ifrit and removed her cloak from around her. Whether offering the keycard was a wise idea would be decided. She wondered if he was the type to attempt leaving her here to clean up the mess that technically she made, even if on his behalf. Either way, she would make due, as she always had. With a light snarl of a sigh, she looked down at her attire and remembered she had opted for something outside of her usual black. White shirt and brown pants, but at least everything hugged her surprisingly small frame to make her venture that much easier. However, it would make her that much easier to spot if something went wrong...

Retrieving him was the mission. Calling for the Senior Director from the CEO's office would raise too many suspicions. Calling him from the secretary's office could prove beneficial -- boring, but efficient. Finding the the Senior Director personally would prove her use. She hadn't the time or patience to argue.

"If you'd slow me down, just wait here."

Those words came in sync with her body disappearing into the ventilation shaft. At first a loud noise... and then silence. It took some intricate and focused use of the Force, keeping her body from rattling around in the metal tunnels, but it certainly wasn't the worst situation she'd ever found herself in. Now, her concern was if Nymph's maps were accurate as she navigated her way through as quickly yet quietly as possible. It would take some time to reach the 259th floor from her current location. Taking the elevator would have been the quicker route, and for a moment, Mariah cursed that she even entertained this idea. At least she didn't run into any areas that she couldn't squeeze herself through. However, if Ifrit decided to make his own way there, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that he would reach Ammon's office before she did, with this convoluted path. Although he'd more than likely be met with some opposition in the process.

Luckily, Nymph's records proved to be accurate, and she found herself lingering just above his office soon enough. Crimson eyes peered through the slits to catch a glimpse of her new surroundings, the light from his office reflecting off of her pale complexion. She wanted this to be as quick as possible, but if there was any additional information to be gleaned regarding the Senior Director's true loyalties, watching him for but a moment in his natural habitat would be the most beneficial way to do so...