"One individual cannot possibly make a difference, alone. It is individual efforts, collectively, that makes a noticeable difference—all the difference in the world!" – Dr. Jane Goodall
Present day
Rey tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her bun has loosened a bit, freeing some of her mousy-brown mane from its tie. But her hairstyle was the least of her concerns right now, though she felt just as wound up and tight.
She was in the belly of the beast, rocketing toward the skies in the elevator of Solocorp's headquarters, the tallest building in downtown Los Angeles, even taller than its parent company, Skywalker Enterprises' site. The imposing structure was built only a few years ago, deliberately at a height of more than 5 00 feet taller than any other building on the horizon, topped with a glowing, imposing red orb that pulsed like a heartbeat, acting as an eye to watch over everything. Its designer had called it "art."
The floors passed with gentle dings and with every number that swept by, her heart raced even faster. Her stomach itched to crawl up and out of her throat and her bladder quivered, threateningly. But she had to do this. She was ready. She had to be ready. All of her training had prepared her for this very moment.
Her mentor's voice echoed in her ears, filled with encouragement and last-minute advice.
He's powerful, yes, but he has his weaknesses. Exploit them, harness their power they have over him, and you will win.
His grandfather's ghost may be the one in charge, but the strength is in Ben. Do not be intimidated by the elder and his legacy; it is Ben that you must overcome.
You are strong. You've proven it. You can do this.
Don't worry, you have this. You will win.
Rey, our trust is in you. The success of our mission is on your shoulders.
Rey, you can do this.
Rey.
"Rey? Miss Rey?"
Rey blinked to clear her eyes and mind. The elevator doors had opened and she hadn't noticed. An attendant, strong, tall, burly, and thickly-built, was waiting at the landing. He was a good foot-and-a-half taller than she, dressed in a pure white suit, save for a black armband identifying his status, and had a clear earpiece nestled in his left ear. A bulge at his hip hinted at a gun. His emotionless, brown eyes stared sternly at her, studying her, anticipating her.
Rey cleared her throat of the thickness that gripped it. "Yes. I am Rey Jacks." It wasn't her real last name, had she even known what it was, but it suited her fine. She squared her shoulders stiffly and gripped her briefcase tighter.
"Miss Jacks," he corrected himself. He gestured for her to follow him.
Her mouth was dry and she forced herself to speak. "R-Rey. Rey is fine."
He crooked an eyebrow. "Rey it is. Please, this way, Rey." He wasn't going to lead her, he was going to follow her to watch her.
Rey stepped out of the elevator, summoning all of the courage she had remaining in her body. It propelled her down the sterile and tiled hallway, her heels clacking rhymatically and echoing off the bare walls. She didn't have to look behind her to know that the burly man was close behind, ready to take her down if she revealed her tell. Purposefully, she strode toward the large set of double doors at the end of the hall.
"Rey is here to see Mr. Solo," the man told the two faceless and armored guards at the doors. They, too, were tall and imposing, making Rey feel tiny and weak in their shadows.
The one on Rey's right studied her for a moment. Rey wondered what sort of face was peering at her from behind the darkened lenses. Was it even human?
A gloved hand reached for the door. It opened silently and the guard held it wide enough for Rey to slip through, then quickly it closed behind her.
She found herself in a huge and lavishly-decorated suite. The floor-to-ceiling southern-facing windows were draped with heavy, red velvet curtains and tightly closed to where only a sliver of deep pink from the setting sun beamed through the seam where the panels met. There was a glass display case near the windows, encapsulating a full suit of samurai armor, complete with a frightening soomen armored mask, its mouth twisted into a perpetual, ugly scowl and its empty eyes glaring darkly into nothingness. Across from it, on the other side of the room, was an entire wall dedicated to a map with twinkling, multi-colored lights which Rey presumed demarcated Solocorp's global assets if anything could be gleaned by a dozen analog clocks above the map displaying various time zones. Her footsteps were silenced by the plush carpet that carved a path through the polished hardwood, the carpet leading to a heavy oak desk in the center of it all. And near that, hard to see in the dim light, was another display case, smaller in size but more frightening in contents – a shape that was undeniably a chalk-colored human skull.
However, nothing set Rey's nerves on edge more than the intimidating figure that rose from the chair behind the desk.
"Miss Rey."
Ben Solo's voice was rich, deeply-toned and deeply unsettling. His figure unraveled itself as he stood up, revealing his awkwardly tall form and gangly limbs, which made him appear slightly less than human. But under the creases of his black and tailored suit, Rey could see the tautness and curves of pure, solid muscle. His black hair fell in gentle waves just below his ears and was carelessly brushed back with nary a product to keep it in place, which was surprising considering every other part of him was meticulous and clean and perfect. It was the only thing unkempt about him.
"Mr. Solo," she responded, calmly and evenly. She hoped he couldn't hear the tremor that gripped her.
"Please." He swept an open hand toward the leather wingback chair nearest to her, close to his desk.
Her feet somehow carried her down the carpeted path and led her firmly to the chair. She sat down, laying her briefcase across her lap. Her skirt was short, she noticed. Too short for her liking or her comfort. She pressed her thighs tightly together, hoping she could seal herself from him.
He didn't seem to notice her nervousness. His eyes fixated on hers the moment she walked in. She wasn't even sure if he had blinked.
"I must say, it came to me as a surprise that HOTH sent you," he murmured. HOTH's meaning was argued about often in media, as the acronym was never revealed. Volleys from the political side opposite to that of HOTH liked to snidely comment it stood for "Hippies on the Hunt" on account of the organization's contentious and sometimes aggressive nature of advancing its environmental agenda.
Rey resisted letting her sudden irritation bristle but she could feel the heat burst in her cheeks. How quick he was to already parley and so snidely! She mentally withdrew her sword and honed it with her words.
"I assure you, Mr. Solo, that I am more than competent in coordinating our shared interests' transaction," she retorted with only the tiniest edge in her tone. "I know that I am not a familiar face like ones you have dealt with in the past, but do not let my appearance deceive you into presuming I am incapable of performing."
Ben listened attentively and if he had any reaction to what she had said, he did not reveal it. His eyes scanned her, top to bottom, in the quickest of a nanosecond, then he sat down. She felt uncomfortably violated.
He absentmindedly twiddled a pen in his hand, seemingly preoccupied with nothing important. "I want to hear it from you, then," he said finally. "I've been talked to near death by my advisers and lawyers, all of whom strongly suggested I not even entertain this meeting."
He tossed the pen and it rolled away from him, coming to a gentle stop with a clink against an empty water glass. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and tented his fingers under his chin. "Humor me, Miss Rey. Why is HOTH wanting to partner with a corporation that they once called – and correct me if I'm misquoting this – 'a dark force, hungrily preying upon our planet, and seeks little more than to further fatten the larders of the Skywalker capitalist monarchy at the expense of raping our resources until our rivers run befouled, our air unbreathable, and our land scoured.' That was something you had written on behalf of your employer, correct?"
Rey mentally saw herself fumble and drop her sword. Her guard dropped; she felt him prodding her vulnerabilities.
He quirked an eyebrow, expectantly. Rey cleared her throat and forced herself to bore her gaze into his eyes.
"I did. Does it bother you to hear the truth, Mr. Solo, or is that something your grandfather fastidiously worked hard to hide from you, too?" A couple of months before the patriarch had mysteriously died, Ben repeatedly renounced the accusations that the company under the leadership of his grandfather was involved in some unscrupulous human rights violations in the Middle East. Later, when the violations were found out to be true, some intrepid undercover audio recording captured a few seconds of Ben's temper tantrum where he swore he didn't know and grandpa had hidden it from him "like the other things."
The corner of Ben's mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly but she saw it. Pleased, her mind reached for her sword and picked it up, ready to continue; the walls rose up again and his touch withdrew.
His lips pressed into a tight, restrained smile. "No, it doesn't bother me to hear the truth," he said. "Every great man needs to be reminded to keep in check now and then. It's important to listen to every criticism."
Rey wanted to remark on his choice of words – great man, ha! She chuckled inside, but immediately guarded her mind. Half of this battle was keeping her wits and not letting him harvest any of her thoughts.
"I didn't come here to exchange insults, Mr. Solo," she apologized, genuinely. "I'm here hoping that we can bridge the chasm between our organizations and unite for a common goal."
"Which is?" he prodded.
She smirked. She placed her briefcase on the other chair next to her and rose to full height. In her mind, she was distancing herself from him and dancing around, afraid to jab.
"I think you understand," she said, turning away from him and striding to the windows. With a jerk of her hand, she whipped open one of the panels to reveal the stunning view overlooking Los Angeles.
A low-hanging fog had settled over the city. From her vantage point, it looked like a fluffy, grey sea had rolled in. Other buildings broke through the clouds, some reaching more triumphantly than others, but none as high as the one she was in. Thousands upon thousands of city lights twinkled and burned, creating an eerie but beautiful fuzzy glow. To the north, she could see the craggy mountains in the distance, blanketed in darkness with a subtle light cast down by the full moon. The glass was misted with dew from a gentle rain that must have passed only recently. She was overwhelmed by such a beautiful sight.
"I do?" his voice murmured into her ear.
She gasped, startled. She kicked herself for reacting out loud. But she wouldn't turn to face him, and stared steely out the window, trying to avoid the gaze of his reflection. From the corner of her eye, she could see his distorted form behind her, dangerously close, but not touching.
"I think your motivations and HOTH's are quite the same, Mr. Solo," she said, fixing her eyes toward the sky. "The next venture is not entirely of this planet. We both know that. We also know that your resources are depleting and Skywalker Enterprises has made some unfortunate investments in underperforming and nonrenewable markets. Our planet is also enduring some of the most cataclysmic forces it has ever known and we are dangerously edging toward the precipice. If there should be any hope for us all, you'd be wise to take your resources and our knowledge or else there won't be any place on this earth alive to hold your larders."
She sensed - no, tasted – his energy resonating off of him. She knew he was perceptive to forces, but she was too, but she was not ready to reveal her trump card. The whole purpose to engage with him was to assess his strength and let him pick around in her mind a bit, swaying him where she could. But this was something different, something she hadn't sensed in her training. There was something animalistic in what she was registering. Anger. Fury. Truth. Heat. Sensuality.
His voice was closer, thicker. "Then perhaps, I should investigate this matter further."
The little hairs on her neck and shoulders prickled in feeling his breath on her skin and hearing his purr in her ears, but she stood strong. "Yes, you should." She spun on the balls of her feet and strode back to her seat, where she snatched her briefcase and dropped it with an authoritative thud on his desk. She flicked the latches open and withdrew a thick binder with a glossy cover and held it out to him. Ben, surprised that his tactic wasn't entirely successful, cautiously approached her and took the binder from her.
"Review it, if you would," Rey said, locking her briefcase and making a move for the door. "My people would prefer you know what you're getting into and don't mind having your legal team look over it. When can I expect a response?"
Ben stared at the binder in his hands and then at Rey, then back at the binder. "Two days," he said, gruffly. "You'll have an answer within forty-eight hours. This time on Sunday."
Pleased, Rey nodded her head politely. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Solo." Her heart pounding, she reached the door and just as she touched the handle, his voice rang strong and clear.
"I will discuss the decision with you," he declared. "In person."
She hesitated, her fingers just brushing the metal of the door knob. "Then, I will await your call. Thank you for your time, Mr. Solo." She opened the door, closed it behind her, and felt his fury radiate.