Atia
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Posts: 1,232 
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Sept 22, 2014 3:20:11 GMT -8
The kick knocked his weapon to his left, causing the shot to disperse harmlessly against the wall, and the woman darted in low on his right side. Releasing the weapon's grip with his right hand, he held the barrel in his left and pulled it further to his left, out of the woman's reach even as his right hand lashed out toward her. She may have been too low for an elbow strike, but her face was well within reach for a vicious backhand, made all the more potent by the fact that the appendage was made of hard, unforgiving metal.
She fell to one knee, nearly loosing balance, but she had it still, and she also had a nasty idea.
He may be cybernetic in many more places, but a male may not have a happy life without...
left arm struck out lightning quick strait at the males genitals, between the leggs. She aimed to stunn still.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2014 22:51:46 GMT -8
Mirian squirmed then, her eyes wide, and her lips parting with a frightened expression, but her fear may not be what Xa Xell thought. "Wait...no! Xa Xell, don't..." She thought about all the mishaps and bad things that happened whenever she tapped into the Force, and now, with this kidnapper wanting her to use the force, she was in deep trouble.She raised her hands in front of her, "You don't know what you'd be doing. Bad things happen whenever I use the Force. Please...there has to be another way." She didn't bother concealing anything with him, like her once being a Jedi. She had nothing to hide. Xa Xell could read her mind like an open book, and see almost her entire life. She also did appear concerned about why the Omwati wanted to summon this person. Whoever he was, Xa Xell obviously had less-than-kindly plans for him."I could contact him for you, with a Comlink." She offered desperately, "I'm a trader, a transporter, I could convince him to come out or something...just don't make me use the Force, please. There's a reason I left the Jedi Order..." =Xa Xell= "Better to make it quick and painless dear. For example..." A flick of his mind, a mere crimp in the nerves. It would cause no lasting damage, and as soon as he stopped concentrating on the nerve the effect would dissipate immediately...in the interim, unfortunately, it would stimulate all the pain receptors in her left arm; scholars would call it force pain, a power typically used to break concentration, or in this case...hopefully get someones attention. Warily, Xa Xell kept half a mind focussed on corralling his prisoners powers in check...he didn't need her to kill him by accident of course. Who knows though...perhaps he was grossly underestimating her. Time would tell...time would tell. |
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Post by Simon Monroe on Sept 29, 2014 7:21:32 GMT -8
She could not get out of the strike, but her reflexes could manadge a glancing blow. It was still nasty. She felt the metal too, a cybernetic enhancement.
She fell to one knee, nearly loosing balance, but she had it still, and she also had a nasty idea.
He may be cybernetic in many more places, but a male may not have a happy life without...
left arm struck out lightning quick strait at the males genitals, between the leggs. She aimed to stunn still.
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Sept 29, 2014 23:57:47 GMT -8
Xa Xell had a MILD idea as to her somewhat haphazard use of the force...but unfortunately, was relatively oblivious as to the true scale of her abilities tendency to backfire. Perhaps, if he had known...he would have come up with a better plan. As it was the alien simply shrugged slightly, ignoring most of her words, his senses roving over the woman's body in his minds eye, seeking, searching...and then grasping onto what his mind perceived as silver threads running through her body, in actuality her nervous system.=Xa Xell= "Better to make it quick and painless dear. For example..." A flick of his mind, a mere crimp in the nerves. It would cause no lasting damage, and as soon as he stopped concentrating on the nerve the effect would dissipate immediately...in the interim, unfortunately, it would stimulate all the pain receptors in her left arm; scholars would call it force pain, a power typically used to break concentration, or in this case...hopefully get someones attention. Warily, Xa Xell kept half a mind focussed on corralling his prisoners powers in check...he didn't need her to kill him by accident of course. Who knows though...perhaps he was grossly underestimating her. Time would tell...time would tell. "NYAAAAARH!" Stars literally shot into her field of vision. She didn't handle pain well, didn't like it, never would. Unfortunately, against her better wishes, she did exactly as the Omwati wanted, letting loose a powerful wave of the Force, as both a beacon, a telekinetic push of the Force in a round radius, and she kicked out violently, trying to do anything to stop the pain. Her lack of experience in the Force, or rather, lack of practice, resulted in her completely forgetting her training, and she painfully gripped her left arm, trying to stop the searing pain within it.
Somewhere beyond, about a kilometer from her, a prospector who'd been digging the ground for over a month without any sort of success, abruptly struck gold...literally. In the mean time, in her immediate vicinity, the powers supplying the lights shorted as Mirian's telekinetic burst damaged a great deal of things, possibly the Omwati too, if he wasn't in time to get out of the way of the wave. Mirian leaned over to one side and tried desperately to shut her own mind down. "I...hope...you're...pleased..." |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2014 12:00:56 GMT -8
She WAS a wild one - the telekinetic wave emitted from her sent Xa Xell reeling backward; quite honestly though, it was the kick that connected with his nose that did the most damage. A spurt of bluish purple blood, a series of curses in a musical chirping language, and all too soon Xa Xell was retreating backward with a hand to his face, blood dripping down his fingers in a steady stream.
=Xa Xell=
"I'm just peachy."
Wincing, Xa Xell glanced around...it seemed more than a few crates had been pushed back from the force of her power - his blaster, and most of the woman's personal belongings had been sent flying to...who knows where in the warehouse. The lights were shot as well - it was only thanks to slightly keener avian vision that he could see that well right now. Outside, shouts sounded as various workers in nearby warehouses were plunged into darkness, no doubt someone was calling to get the power back on...if that was possible. Those shouts died down rather quickly though, and Xa Xell was all too soon cocking his head at the door, quizically. They couldn't have solved the problem already, could they?
Ah. But then the warehouse doors opened - a massive sliding affair that allowed load lifters and various other droids in with their massive cargo. And, standing there, tapping his foot impatiently, was a being of a different sort. He was about two meters tall, and gold colored of all things; only accentuated by gold colored animal like eyes. Sharp features were accentuated by a perpetual scowl, long hair was swept back in a severe fashion, with a neatly trimmed goatee finishing off the aliens face; the hair was odd though, seeming to be black with stripes of silver in it, even now streaking through his hair and striped his goatee in two strips at the corners of the mouth. He didn't appear old though - around his twenties - so the colored hair was either dye, or a racial trait. The alien strode forward, the scowl still on his face - he wore black boots, black pants, a black high collared double breasted tunic, over all of which he wore a brown great coat. His frame was muscular, though more in the realms of athletic, albeit enough to handle his job.
His job, of course, was that of Jedi Peacekeeper. Indeed, he looked like no standard Jedi, and the only indicator to his position was the lightsaber that swung on a silver plated utility belt along with a pair of sturdy looking binders. Striding forward, the alien had an horribly exasperated look on his face, and had apparently not caught - visually - of the two beings in the warehouse that he had come to investigate. Nevertheless though, it seemed the alien had some opinions on the situation, what, with his ranting into the darkness in a heavy coruscanti accent...
=Dante=
"Sons of the SITH. Buildings catching on fire, buildings blowing up, precinct station under assault, and now THIS; do you really think I have time to baby sit whatever punk ass agenda some force acolyte has with another force user? I have half a mind to..."
And that particular moment, some technician somewhere connected wire A to wire B, and the lights flickered on. The being froze, now seeing Xa Xell and the woman on the ground, and crossing his arms, furrowed his brow even more - if such a feat were possible.
=Dante=
"Oh. GREAT. Like I have time for this. Really Xa Xell? Haven't you heard of a comlink? I'm NOT Serreno special forces anymore; I do NOT have time for this cloak and dagger crap."
Xa Xell had apparently been expecting a different reaction. His mouth opened once, closed...then opened once more before he could speak.
=Xa Xell=
"Well, with all the things going on Dante, I didn't really think I'd be able to get your attention so I -"
He was cut off rather quickly by Dante's quick retort.
=Dante=
"So you kidnapped some girl and tortured her? I would have come to talk to you because I know you would do PRECISELY BECAUSE OF THIS KIND OF THING! Holy Frakk!"
Dante's voice raised higher and higher, a look of utter and complete exasperation crossing his face. Throwing his hands up in the air, he stretched them out towards Xa Xell in what could only be called either a pleading gesture, or an attempt to strangle the life out of his throat from afar.
=Dante=
"Well I'm here now, so what do you WANT."
Xa Xell seemed to pull himself up straighter, pulling the hand away from his nose - revealing the purplish blood smeared all over his face - he pointed at Dante.
=Xa Xell=
I'm here to warn you. We remember the things you did during the war, you cant just wipe those things away without any kind of trial Dante. Horrible things. War crimes. I'm here to tell you that we, your old unit, have judged you, and that we are going to expose you for what you are to the galax -"
Once again, he was cut off by Dante.
=Dante=
Do you live under a rock or something?"
=Xa Xell=
"I'm...sorry?"
=Dante=
"I was exiled for FIVE YEARS to Dagobah. DAGOBAH. Do you know what I got to eat there? Moss. My Diet was MOSS. Then, when my exile was up, I came HERE. HERE! Do you know where HERE is Xa Xell? Here is VANDELHELM. I came to the ghetto backwoods of the galaxy, to a RESOURCE planet, so I could live on a SANDCRAWLER, so I could try to redeem my sins by SAVING people. I gave up EVERYTHING - all my money, all my status, all my noble heritage, so i can live in filth and service to pay for the errors of my way. Yesterday I dragged myself through a ditch so I could save some kids pet. I don't know what the HELL it was, but it had tentacles and teeth. Do you REALLY think I want to that for a living Xa Xell?"
=Xa Xell=
"I...well..."
=Dante=
"And to top it all off, we were at WAR you hypocrite! As far as the rest of the galaxy is concerned, and the GALAXY, everything I did was perfectly LEGAL. So what makes you so karking special that you get to say yay or nay or not?"
=Xa Xell=
"I...well...we object to the principle of it. We know you. Your just plotting something or biding your time so that you can stab someone in the back. There's no way you've actually changed. THAT'S what this is all about. YOUR hypocrisy. YOUR lies just so you can save your own skin."
=Dante=
"Jokes on you. I had my brain picked by not one but TWO Jedi investigators...I'm squeaky clean and repentant. So, if you don't believe the vouching of two Jedi masters with flawless histories...who's the hypocrite now, eh?"
=Xa Xell=
"I...wait, you did?"
=Dante=
"Um, yes?"
=Xa Xell=
"That wasn't in your record."
=Dante=
"It wouldn't BE in my record. By the various Gods, do you REALLY think the Jedi Order keeps records of all this stuff? If it's such a frakking issue just go ask them yourself. Tell them Dante sent you. From vandelhelm. Add that last part because people tend not to remember me...not that I blame them, I live on this dustbin of a planet after all."
The exchange was quick...like a quarrel between friends. Really screwed up friends. But friends. For a long moment Xa Xell stared at Dante, and Dante stared at Xa Xell...and then Xa Xell brought his hand up to his face.
=Xa Xell=
"You're not lying.
=Dante=
"No way. You figured that out all yourself?"
=Xa Xell=
"I...may have made an oopsie then. I'm not exactly here alone."
Once more, Dante threw up his hands, and turned to the woman on the ground, pointing at her.
=Dante=
"So, let me get this straight. Because you had faulty information, you travelled all the way here...stalked me no doubt...kidnapped a woman...tortured her so I would hear her while driving my merry way to the precinct...just to lure me to a building that is PROBABLY lined with explosives...just so you could tell me...what?"
=Xa Xell=
"That...that Lordran Black is after you now."
Dante's shoulders slumped, his own hand came up to his face and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
=Dante=
"You...you set a psychopath on me?"
=Xa Xell=
"I-In my defense...I gave him faulty info...if he had known the jedi thing, he wouldn't have come."
=Dante=
"You SET a PSYCHOPATH on me?! How long do I have till he gets here?"
=Xa Xell=
"...two days..."
=Dante=
"And how long will it take for you to get to Coruscant to verify this in person, so you can call him and tell him how bad you kriffed up?"
=Xa Xell=
"...Three days.
=Dante=
"For the love of...get your blue butt back on your ship, and get this sorted out. NOW. I have too much to deal with to add this on top of everything."
=Xa Xell=
"I...but he'll be on the planet for a whole day before I get verification. And Lordran isn't going to wait -"
=Dante=
"You think I don't know that? I'll trap him or...something."
=Xa Xell=
"But Lordran is the only guy I know that has escaped from carbonite...while INSIDE of carbonite."
=Dante=
"I...you know what? You're not helping. Go. I'll call you in a day or so before he gets here. GO."
=Xa Xell=
"I...yes sir."
And then he was gone. Xa Xell ran out of the warehouse, leaving Dante and the woman alone. Silently Dante pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about "Murdering them, all of them" under his breath. Turning towards the woman, Dante cleared his throat, and crouched down in front of her. Slipping a hand into his jacket, he pulled out a small holographic emitter, and flicked it on. A name, Dante Deveaux, materialized, along with a serial number, rank of Peacekeeper, along with the holographic security stamped seal of the combined symbols of the Vandelhelm security force and that of the Jedi order. Flicking it off, Dante put the item away, conspicuously bumping his hand on his lightsaber (No doubt intentionally, as to verify himself even further), before flashing an easy smile at the woman. The smile, of course, when mixed with someone who is pretty much used to scowling 24/7, looked more like someone who is both constipated and having their lips spread by a dentist - not a lovely sight.
=Dante=
"Um, hi. Dante Deveaux, Jedi peacekeeper. Are you ok? Sorry for all this horrible mix up. Xa Xell is kind of a psychopath...but unfortunately protected politically. Could have thrown him in a cell for a few days otherwise. Are you hurt?"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2014 18:22:06 GMT -8
When she was a young girl, Siroun's parents had, for a time, envisioned that she would become either an engineer or a surgeon; prophecies borne out of the young Siroun's tendency to disassemble anything she could, after which she would assemble it anew only to take it apart once again. So the stories go, or went, at any rate. Siroun herself has no memories of behaving in such a manner, and knows all too well how families tend to craft tidy, comforting fictions in place of bare, often chaotic facts. Siroun supposes that her parents wanted to have evidence enabling them to claim that they knew her well enough at even a young age that they would chart the course of her future. Such a fable was, in Siroun's estimation, an amusing conceit, given how not even she herself could have predicted setting into motion the chain of events that has led her from a private psychiatric counseling practice on Coruscant to her present position as chief psychiatric consultant for Vandelhelm's security forces.
It was, Siroun recognizes now from the vantage point the distance of time has provided her with, ennui that prompted her to disassemble the neat, orderly life she had built for herself on Coruscant; discontent with the safe, predictable, insulated, and ultimately bloodless cycle she had believed at one time would provide all she wanted or needed. Her attempted reassembly of a life for herself within the Organization was ultimately aborted by the circumstances which have brought her to Vandelhelm. Siroun, who has so long cultivated a bearing of imperturbable coolness that it has become her true nature rather than mere artifice, finds it unsurprising that she mourns neither her abandoned life on Coruscant nor the aborted one with the Organization; embracing instead the possibilities and opportunities made manifest by her changed circumstance. Chief among the benefits of her new position, Siroun finds personally, is that her days are so varied: one may require her to conduct a pre-employment screening for a potential security force recruit, with the next calling for her to conduct a fitness for duty evaluation.
The present day had called for Siroun to counsel, among others, a traumatized officer, made more challenging due to the fact the officer was as yet unable to recognize or, more likely, admit that the job had impacted him in such a way. Siroun is making her way from the precinct's counseling office to the exit when she overhears the first murmurs of the events unfolding elsewhere in the city, disconnected dribs and drabs of unverified information being exchanged between officers. Siroun hears the precinct where Monroe is working out of mentioned, unable to determine in what capacity it is involved, and pauses briefly before turning on her heel and heading back for her office. It is not outside the realm of possibility that she will be needed in one capacity or another, Siroun knows, and she recognizes that she has developed an undeniable esprit de corps for the officers under her care as well as to the larger fellowship that they belong to in the relatively short time that she has been on Vandelhem. Better, Siroun thinks as she sits in the chair behind her desk and takes her datapad from her briefcase, to be on hand at the precinct she is in than at her apartment. If nothing else, she can get a head start on her case progress reports.
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Oct 1, 2014 0:11:43 GMT -8
And then he was gone. Xa Xell ran out of the warehouse, leaving Dante and the woman alone. Silently Dante pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about "Murdering them, all of them" under his breath. Turning towards the woman, Dante cleared his throat, and crouched down in front of her. Slipping a hand into his jacket, he pulled out a small holographic emitter, and flicked it on. A name, Dante Deveaux, materialized, along with a serial number, rank of Peacekeeper, along with the holographic security stamped seal of the combined symbols of the Vandelhelm security force and that of the Jedi order. Flicking it off, Dante put the item away, conspicuously bumping his hand on his lightsaber (No doubt intentionally, as to verify himself even further), before flashing an easy smile at the woman. The smile, of course, when mixed with someone who is pretty much used to scowling 24/7, looked more like someone who is both constipated and having their lips spread by a dentist - not a lovely sight.
=Dante= "Um, hi. Dante Deveaux, Jedi peacekeeper. Are you ok? Sorry for all this horrible mix up. Xa Xell is kind of a psychopath...but unfortunately protected politically. Could have thrown him in a cell for a few days otherwise. Are you hurt?"
Through wearied eyes, she watched the exchange unfold. From what she heard, this Dante and Xa Xell went back some time, and Dante was apparently a man with many things to answer for. Do I just attract these kind of people?!? She couldn't help but wonder, especially after her meeting with Devlin Lyons, and she thought him to be a fairly good gentleman, aside from his quickdraw nature. Clearly she's not a good judge of character.
The whole ordeal seemed anticlimatic from her point of view. All this trouble, just so Xa Xell could have words with Dante, only to learn he had misjudged this Dante this whole time. If she were a little shorter-fused or unforgiving, she'd feel inclined to pluck the Omwati's feathers off and then put it all back with tar. Burning tar. Or better yet, just toss him into a Omwati-sized bread, layer him with mayo, and feed him to a rancor.
Boy, that was a mean-spirited thought.
Mirian prefered to let it slide and chalked it up to more bad luck life decided to dish out at her. She pulled back a little when Dante drew near. She didn't feel very trusting at the moment, not when she was so utterly vulnerable and hardly in the position to mount any feasible defense if necessary. When he spoke, she took a moment to form her words. Her lips opened and closed a few times, trying to work properly. "Mirian Santiro. Trader. Not okay, tired, and feeling a little violated and unappreciated. Hurt inside, not so much outside." She sat up, and propped herself up with her hands. "My...belongings...I think they're all over the place. Blast it...the Force is not my ally, it is a pain in the butt." Why bother hiding the fact that she's a Force-Sensitive? It was what brought Dante right to her anyway. |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2014 12:34:15 GMT -8
The woman flinched as he came near, and Dante held up both his hands in the universal "peace" symbol of the galaxy. She looked frightened and exhausted...
"I'm sorry for your experience Ms. Santiro...perhaps I can help?"
Stretching out a hand to her, Dante gathered a slight bit of energy into it, and dropped the rather awkward smile on his face - exchanging it for a rather neutral scowl. You know the the one; its that look someone has when they're thinking about something, but not necessarily you, that's disturbing you. Stretching the hand towards her, a faint blue glow seemed to spark up, the faint light that it shed seemed to have a refreshing, revitalizing effect on the weary. Revitalize it was called - a common Jedi power. It had the ability to restore an exhausted person to alertness, though Dante had also found that the stabilizing effect Revitialize had to offer worked equally well on nerves. She could reject it of course, by closing her mind and body to it, but it was something akin to a really cool breeze on a horribly hot summer day...Dante didn't imagine she would be horribly offended by it.
Dante wracked his brain, trying to remember how to converse with humans...his own species was a little more...rough around the edges. In all honesty, a Firrerreo woman would have tried to bite Xa Xell's throat out, before kicking him repeatedly in the genitals. Humans liked conversation, right? What was it called? Big talk? No. Small talk. Talk about nothing. Keep her mind off her experience - reassure her.
"A trader? Those are pretty common out here...you must have been looking forward to a big haul. A force sensitive to boot must make a killing."
Idly, Dante walked around and gathered up what he presumed to be her belongings - a blaster here, a...lightsaber? Dante froze at that; it wasn't too uncommon to come across a force sensitive who just wanted to go on their merry way in life. But building a lightsaber took formal training.
"A light blade? You've had training...but the way you talk makes it seem as if it failed."
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Oct 2, 2014 0:27:18 GMT -8
She exhaled softly, not realizing she'd been so tense and holding her breath, even though he was obviously trying to be friendly. Not that he had the friendliest of faces in town. Then again, that felt good, whatever he did to her, and her sigh of relief might have stemmed from apprehension as to what plans he had for her, or the relief from her discomfort. Contrary to what Xa Xell might have believed, the pain Mirian felt might have been temporary, but combined with her past experiences with torment, her fear of pain and suffering, and her retentive memory on unpleasant things done to her, she held on to the pain a lot longer than her body felt. So what Dante did to her helped her let go of all that. She whispered a soft thank you, and slowly stood up.
When he commented about her making a killing since she's a Force-Sensitive trader, she muttered, "Not the word I'd use for all that's happened so far, but I get by..."
However, when he observed that she had obvious training as demonstrated by her lightsaber, she looked at him wide-eyed, like a bantha caught in the headlights. She'd forgotten that he'd likely find her lightsaber, suggesting she had far more than just the Force. "..."
She blinked and looked away for a moment, wondering what to tell him, and finally went for a version of the truth. "Yes. I'm a failed Padawan. It was for the best that I left the Order."
She moved slowly, as if still doubtful of herself, and her small frail fingers lightly clasped the lightsaber hilt in Dante's hand, trying to take it back, "It's best you do not try to ignite this thing. I built it before I ever came to the Jedi Order, which was kind of what got me in the Order in the first place, but it's prone to mechanical failure, shortings, and even explosions in parts."
She retrieved everything else that she owned, and then looked over at Dante, slipping her blaster back into its holster on her thigh. Her movements suggested she wasn't slow or recovering from her current ordeal, but rather, she's more deeply wounded than she was letting on, namely the deep lightsaber wound on her left thigh, which wasn't treated properly, and so she often had a limp, especially after stressful moments, plus Dante would be able to easily see the disfiguring scar on her cheek. She wasn't telling the whole story of her experiences and traumas. "You shouldn't hang around me too long, Master Deveaux. Bad sithspit happens to people around me, especially whenever I use the Force."
To verify this, a hairline crack starts forming up alongside the warehouse, probably from her Force Repulse earlier. Her eyes followed the crack as it travelled upwards along the wall, "Like that...we should leave now."
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Atia
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Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Oct 2, 2014 9:19:56 GMT -8
Had she been attacking head-on, a blow such as that would no doubt have been excruciating, but as they stood now she was entirely perpendicular to him, crouching on one knee on his right side and driven even farther back by the glancing blow to her head. The force of her underhanded punch struck his pelvis at an extreme angle, glancing off with little more impact than if he had accidentally walked slowly into a table. Before she could withdraw, his right hand snapped back to clamp itself around her arm, having recovered from his backhand before she would be able to recover from her punch.If successful in his grab, he would then use his leverage to drive her face-first toward the nearest wall and hold her there until he could switch his grip on the rifle and bring it to bear a half second later, firing a stun blast into her at point blank range.
Not only that, she aimed a kick that would fully miss Monroe and his arm, go wast above it and ... well, make her look rather seductively agile ... and then from that position kick back downwards at Monroes torso bedning her knee, the same time as she pulls her own torso backwards to pull him down and kicks out her last anchor to the floor, the knee she is on. Basically preforming a jiu-jicu like takedown using her weight on her oponent.
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Miras
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Post by Miras on Oct 2, 2014 15:44:55 GMT -8
The V-Sec office was in full swing when Miras arrived. Security agents and detectives were everywhere, poring over sheets of flimsy at their desks or shouting into comlinks. The whole place had a crackling, frenetic energy to it that the Padawan loved. It was so different from the Temple, with its endless, droning meditations and sleepy-eyed instructors. Shouldering his pack, Miras made his way to a reception desk. The broad-chested Duros behind the desk didn't look up until the youth dropped heavily into his chair.
"Can I help you?" The officer asked, propping his elbows up on the desk and steepling his fingers together. There was an unmistakable flash of annoyance in his scarlet eyes.
"Probably," Miras answered, fishing a bundle of flimsy from within his travel-stained cloak. "My name is Miras Tinup; I'm under orders from Jedi Master Garroth Renault to report to Dante Devaux."
The officer took the papers doubtfully and began to shuffle through them. He took his time with Miras' personal credentials but barely glanced at the paperwork detailing the custody transfer from the Temple to Dante. The Padawan watched him mouth the word, "Coruscant" and then shake his head. Finally he handed them back. "Looks real enough. Would you like Master Deveaux's com frequency?"
Miras shook his head. "Just notify him of my arrival. I'll wait for him here."
After the Duros assured him it would be done the Padawan wandered back to the lobby area, where it was quiet. A single officer sat behind a glass panel to observe those waiting to be seen. He found an empty seat and slid his pack beneath it before sitting. It was an awkward, crude piece of furniture, but he was so exhausted from the trip that he soon felt his eyelids drooping. Nearly two weeks packed into a cabin the size of a refresher in the belly of some ancient cruiser had left the youth with dark circles under his eyes and even paler than he'd been when he left the Temple.
And there had been the nightmares. Hazy and blood drenched, they plagued him constantly. Yet they were not nearly so terrifying as the visions that came to him when he was awake.
Within minutes Miras was wrapped in his ragged cloak, asleep, chin resting on his chest.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2014 18:01:27 GMT -8
Dante smiled tightly, not really hearing her words - as he was rather intent on the lightsaber. The woman, Mirian, didn't realize how momentous this was. He had been exiled for five years, and he had been slaving away on this planet for three years, combined with the two years of remedial training he had undergone before exile, it had been a total of ten years since he had seen another Jedi. Even a failed one. Letting the saber slip from his fingers, he just nodded hollowly, smiling wanly at her words.
"There's no such thing as a failed Jedi."
Silently he handed over the blade, heeding her words of not igniting it. As she strapped it on along with her blaster, he contemplated her silently, the same wan smile crossing Dante's face. For a failed Padawan, she certainly clung to the blade more than Dante thought one would be comfortable admitting. Then, perhaps it was a memento. At her words of not sticking around her for a prolonged amount of time, and at the crack forming in the wall, Dante just shrugged.
"I'm no Master. And I wager I've killed far more people than you, Sanitro, through mere presence alone. But enough of this macabre speech. You need to come with me so I can file in a report...besides...being a force user, you're more than likely involved in these other cases I'm working on. Not to cast blame on you or anything - it's just how I've noticed things tend to work out over the years is all. If you'll accompany me to precinct five V-sec station."
Dante gestured out of the doors to a Veltiss-2 airspeeder idling out front of the warehouse. Painted black and gold, it was stock model with few changes, save perhaps a sturdy metal bar in front of the passenger seat, and some forcefield additions for the passenger seat as well.
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Oct 4, 2014 3:53:55 GMT -8
Mirian nodded and entered the vehicle. She quietly considered Dante Deveaux. He said there was no such thing as a failed Jedi. Then what was she? She was certainly the laughing stock of the Corellian Jedi at the least. And what was that about him killing more than her? Of course he probably had. She only had three lives that she believed herself responsible for their deaths, and oddly enough, she never laid a hand on any of those three. Now what was that about the other cases he was working on? She sighed, believing already that she was responsible.
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Post by Simon Monroe on Oct 4, 2014 11:07:33 GMT -8
Her arm was grabbed by the indiscriminating metal. SHe reacted with muscular reflex, aiming to grab onto hom with her other hand, and lean back to force him to pull her entire weight.
Not only that, she aimed a kick that would fully miss Monroe and his arm, go wast above it and ... well, make her look rather seductively agile ... and then from that position kick back downwards at Monroes torso bedning her knee, the same time as she pulls her own torso backwards to pull him down and kicks out her last anchor to the floor, the knee she is on. Basically preforming a jiu-jicu like takedown using her weight on her oponent.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Oct 5, 2014 12:52:42 GMT -8
Dante tapped his foot, waiting for Ms. Santiro to get into the airspeeder. The second her door closed, he toggled a switch and flipped the "hard top" repulsor technology the vehicle was known for on; a tight repulsor field generated like an invisible roof, it kept the airspeeder aerodynamic as well as protected the occupants from flying debris and wind from a 950 Kph ride. Grabbing the steering column, a heads up display complete with motion tracking and destination overlay initialized, it primarily consisted of a high speed processor that intuitively helped the driver: this, again, was stock for the Veltiss-2, and allowed for incredibly high speed driving in even urban and industrial areas. It was also the primary reason Dante drove it - the Veltiss-2, at 950 Kph had one of the highest flight speeds of any airspeeder, and, additionally, was capable of being flown at near maximum speed even through urban and industrial areas. It was perfect in other words for the industrial and urban sprawls of Vandelhelm, when pursuing some offender through the labyrinth of pipes and buildings of the industrial districts forges at full speed. Coupled with a force sensitives uncanny sixth sense and visuo-sensory acuity, you could practically navigate practically anything at full speed without so much as denting the fender...
Which was precisely what they were about to do.
The repulsor gunned, the Veltiss lurched into motion, and they were flying...100 kph...200 kph...400 kph...800 kph...850 kph...900 kph...950 kph. The repulsors whined, the speeder ducking first under a pipe, looping down under a river of molten metal being poured into a cast, a looping barrel roll over a all too slow speeder in the way before diving straight down through a security checkpoint - an automated droid just barely catching the speeders ID code, as to verify that it didn't need to send police speeders after it. Whirling, dipping, diving, looping, heaps of metal large enough to crush the speeder in a single blow, housing complexes that - should they crash - would probably kill several families, all were avoided or otherwise skirted around at high speed, the repulsor top and inertial compensators barely giving the occupants even a rustling of hair from wind or even a slight shift in weight from inertia. The outside a blur, the scenery slowly shifted to something a little more recognizable - they had cleared the industrial complex and were approaching a small skyscraper - not one of the towering giants like Coruscant mind you, but rather a squat twenty story building with an integrated sky garage attached half way up the building. Pulling towards the garages entrance - an energy gate to which a single photoreceptor stood guard over - Dante flashed the holo emitter once more at the receptor and the gate disengaged. Pulling in, he found a parking space, and set down. Turning to Mirian, he flashed a wry...grimace? Smile? Something, at her.
"V-Sec precinct 2. Precinct 1 resides over residential, precinct 2 over industrial, and precinct 3 over commercial. If you'll come with me, I can try and get a handle on this situation..."
He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous.
"I, uh, kind of have a reputation here. If you don't mind sticking close until we get things sorted out?"
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Oct 5, 2014 13:37:16 GMT -8
With his stance sideways to her, all Monroe had to do to keep her weight from pulling him down was lean back onto his left foot as he pushed with his right, lifting her off the ground as she clamped her legs around his hips. From there, he pushed her back into the wall, carrying her weight with more ease than one might expect, and drove his right elbow into her throat without letting go of her arm. It wasn't a blow intended to kill, only immobilize, and he stopped short of crushing her windpipe and causing suffocation. His left hand, meanwhile, hurled the blaster down the hallway, well out of reach, and came barreling inward toward her abdomen, though strangely open-palmed rather than close-fisted, and on a trajectory to pass between them rather than strike her directly.His goal was the same as it had been when he tossed the blaster away: Remove any object she could gain access to to give herself an advantage, and right now that meant the slugthrower on his right hip.
She didnt even feel the strike to her abdomen, in comparison to having her lekkus slammed between a wall and herself that was nothing. She would just bite down on either her own teeth or that arm, tensen up in her body, and start to squeese with her leggs as strong as she could, break ribs or squash innards. Hopefully the man had some metal inside too, having those squesed to lets say a spleen or a liver might do damadge, but at this point, she only wanted to not loose conciessness from the incredible headache she was about to have.
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Post by Simon Monroe on Oct 5, 2014 13:49:48 GMT -8
Monroe's eyes narrowed at the all too brief expression of surprised agony that crossed her face before vanishing behind that mask of cool death, then widened again at the realization of what caused it. Her lekku. She was twi'lek, and the head tails were crammed full of more nerve endings than he currently possessed in the entire organic portion of his body. That had to hurt like hell. When her teeth clamped down on his elbow, he ignored them and kept pushing. There'd have to be a lot more strength in those jaws than any biological muscle could generate if she hoped to cause any damage to the mechanical appendage.
Then her legs hiked up from his hips to his waist and squeezed tighter, cutting off access to the sidearm he'd been reaching for. Just as well, he thought, and instead brought his left hand to the inside of her left thigh, then forced the elbow into the inside of her right thigh, effectively wedging her legs apart by bracing with the forearm. Strong as her legs may be, duranium was stronger, and a grappling match with a cyborg was a very bad idea. His limbs possessed none of the weaknesses of normal flesh, so joint locks and control techniques would become all but useless. She'd lost this fight the moment she closed to engage, she just had to let herself accept it now.
It shouldn't be long before the pain in her head forced her into unconsciousness, but even so Monroe wasn't going to be dropping his guard until she was well behind bars.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Oct 5, 2014 13:57:55 GMT -8
She didnt really feel anything else any more. Just the animalistical wish to fight out of a cornered situation, tensing up and holding herself like stone. Her teeth met hard metal, but that didnt matter, her head was caving in with the force of a turned inside out vulcano. She tried to hit him but as the strike would land on his chest (an act of sheer panic) it was already limp.
A second later she was on the floor, only hanging from the arm the cyborg was holding.
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Oct 7, 2014 2:28:27 GMT -8
When they finally landed was when Mirian allowed herself to open her eyes and unclench her hands from the sides of her seat. To say she was a little unnerved would be an understatement. She observed him silently when he mentioned that he had a reputation. She wondered just what kind of reputation that would be.
Nodding her head, the girl exited the vehicle. She didn't need the Force to tell her that a lot had gone down since her last visit to the place.
Obedient to the request, the girl silently moved over to stand close to Dante, just short of hugging him, or completely violating his personal space, until he requested otherwise. She tried to ponder the exact and most appropriate manner of asking a question at this point, as, after their initial conversation, Mirian had gone rather silent, and she also looked a little pale after their harrowing high-speed journey to the V-Sec Precinct. "What's going on?"
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Post by Simon Monroe on Oct 8, 2014 21:35:56 GMT -8
Monroe lowered her to the floor and maneuvered her onto her back, then withdrew a pair of binders and secured her wrists. Unlike the cells in the precinct across the alley, the binders were top of the line, featuring everything from struggle preventing constriction to wireless stun charge activation. Even a magnetic seal to enhance the already substantial security of the mechanical locks. He was pretty sure those binders would even be able to hold him. For a while, at least.
Once she was secured, he hoisted her over a shoulder and retrieved his discarded rifle, then returned to the lift and took it to the main level. Once he was back in the precinct, he went straight for the holding cells and gave her the first unoccupied one he could find, then removed the cuffs, sealed her in, and leaned back against the opposite wall to wait.
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