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Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2013 17:46:18 GMT -8
Terra followed Ralph around, finding it strange to be shopping for clothes like this, as she usually just wore the traditional Jedi robes. Still, she had heard of members of the Order who eschewed the traditional wear for more casual offerings. Some of the other Jedi probably wouldn't appreciate it, but she herself didn't really care much.
She smiled and shrugged, feeling like a little more legwork would be worth it once they were basking in the great outdoors. "That's OK. Um..." She turned and pointed to one of the stores they had passed while he had been shopping. "I...think that store sells swimwear...I mean...if we're going to be at the beach..." Her face had turned a little red again.
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Post by Pearce Zigher on Aug 10, 2013 17:58:39 GMT -8
Are you alright? You're turning red.
*Ralph dropped his bag and placed one hand to her forehead as if checking her temperature. Since he had not seen the embarrassment back at the academy, he was unsure why she would be now, so of course he thought she may not be well. He pulled his hand away and grabbed up his bag with a smile.*
No temp...Weird. Yeah, lets head over there and see what they have for you.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2013 18:21:33 GMT -8
Terra's brow furrowed when Ralph started feeling her forehead and she shook her head. "N-no I don't have a fever....oh...um...never mind." She sighed as she followed Ralph to the store, feeling even more embarrassed than before, though by the time they reached the store, she had managed to contain herself and stop blushing.
The store in question was indeed a shop that sold primarily swimwear, both for men and women. "I'll just...look over here." Terra headed for the women's section to see what it had to offer, and there was a fairly large selection available. She ended up browsing for almost a half hour and got some help from one of the clerks before making her selection. There was just enough credits in her pocket for her to purchase it and she moved quickly, not wanting Ralph to see it just yet.
When she had finished, she walked over to him, holding the bag in her hand. "I'm done now."
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Post by Pearce Zigher on Aug 10, 2013 18:41:07 GMT -8
*Ralph smiled as they started walking back to the speeder. He decicded not to ask about the swim suit she picked, having easily come to terms with the fact that Terra would always tel him things at her own pace. He loaded all of their bags into the speeder and hoped in, lifting them up and speeding off.*
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Callidus
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Post by Callidus on Sept 10, 2013 20:40:53 GMT -8
The Blue Sector, an unspecified amount of time in the past.
Trask sat solemnly at the bar, fingering the drink that sat in front of him. He normally wasn't a man prone to melancholy, but after what had transpired mere hours ago, after what he'd chosen to do to save the academy, it was no wonder that he had lost his purpose. The wreckage of his cruiser was still hot as it lay strewn about the countryside outside the city, and the faces of his crew still flashed across his mind's eye.
He hadn't even bothered to remove his armor or weapons before picking the bar at random and taking his seat, and he had little motivation to do much of anything else either. It had seemed to be the only logical thing to do, saving the academy at the cost of his own crew; but now, after the fact, he kept trying to come up with a million other scenarios that would have saved them, a million tiny changes to this or that action that would have prevented the disaster altogether. It was nearly overwhelming even to his mind, and on top of it all his memory, his perfect memory, kept up the montage of dead faces even as he willed it to go away.
Gulping down the drink, he set the glass back on the bar and ordered another.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 10, 2013 22:20:31 GMT -8
It was a nice place, very chic, very up-coming-slum look. Crummy fittings but friendly service. The only thing out of place was Trask, still wearing his gleaming armour, moping all by his lonesome at the bar, which was unlike the galactic policeman. Chloro, by comparison, blending in seamlessly with the late afternoon crowd of second-rate businessmen coming off work for cheap cocktails. She wore a plain business suit and was smoking, as usual. No eyepatch this time.
Bump
"Oh, excuse me."
She blushed with embarrassment. Maybe she had a little too much to drink. She smiled self-deprecatingly at the red-eyed and blue-skinned Chiss.
"Please accept my sincere apology for..."
Double take.
"Aren't you the guy from the news yesterday? The one with the cruiser crises?! It is you!"
She gushed with excitement but making sure her voice was low enough not to draw attention. Treating him with her most minty and radiant smile of her zig-zag teeth, she sat down next to him. She had taken a shine to him ever since they met and had been patiently waiting for the cloven hoof to pop out - a lawman on a mission. Something to sink her teeth into.
"That was amazing. Why are you here all alone? You should be celebrating? C'mon, let me get that one for you."
She slid a credit chip across the table with her hideously scarred hand to pay for his next drink. Of course he should be celebrating. He was just beginning to feel the bane of being a policeman to an imperfect law. But the real tyranny was the more force he employed to uphold laws, the more force the other side used to resist them. The more he saved, the more innocent people would put at risk in the future. Chloro didn't blame him really. It was noble of him. But it had to stop. He was supporting the problem, not solving it.
So, buy him a drink and pick up the pieces.
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Callidus
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Post by Callidus on Sept 11, 2013 13:10:17 GMT -8
Trask's eyes narrowed as the sound of her voice cut through the haze of memories, reaching in and plucking out a very particular set from a time before he'd arrived on corellia. A different place, a different mission. Pirates and emperors and Lita Trykk. And a semi-sane little woman with a cigarette and an eyepatch. How had she found him here?
Oh, right. News coverage. Frakkin' reporters.
"Nice act, but you know me well enough to know that I don't forget. What do you want, and where are the others?"
He still didn't turn and look at her, the sound of her voice being enough for him to recognize her, but if she was here, it stood to reason the others wouldn't be far behind; and if they'd all seen the news coverage, his cover was blown and they'd be out for blood. He had yet to meet a pirate that would forgive being duped like that, and from what he remembered of Arkan Bloodrage, he was no different.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 11, 2013 20:51:44 GMT -8
The little dragon leaned against the bar, letting the smoke slowly fume from her nose, searching his face for the flicker of recognition. And fear. She had promised him a fire, regardless of what the pirates had promised him. Yet, he maintained his sang-froid composure without him even knowing what she had planned. Doubt crossed her mind. If her most powerful threat, the threat of the unknown couldn't shake him, could her real threat strike terror into his heart? Could she defeat him? Her eyes narrow.
"I'd like to buy you another drink."
Another credit slapped down on the bar. Anger began to build within her. She would like nothing more than to shatter his perfect composure. Her hands begun to rhythmically clench and relax, warming up.
"Before we begin, I have to ask you; did enjoy being a pirate?"
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Callidus
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Post by Callidus on Sept 11, 2013 21:44:03 GMT -8
He turned his head then, though only enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "I was never a pirate." He turned back to his refilled drink. "It was a mask I wore, no different than any other." He lifted the glass and downed its contents. "No different than the facade you wear right now."
He paused for a moment as he ordered that other drink, then continued. "So tell me, what is it that brings an anarchist like yourself this far inside the rules? Was I simply that tempting a target? Could it be nothing more than revenge?" He turned his head to look at her again. "Because that's an awful long way to come for such a foolish errand." He didn't really care if she was here to hurt him, or even if she was here to kill him, but meloncholy though he may be, he was still Chiss. It was simply not within him to lay down and die. If she'd come for a fight, she would get one. This time, however, he would not hold back. Holding back had only destroyed the lives of hundreds of men and women. No, if she wanted to attack him, he would fight back with everything he had at his disposal.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 12, 2013 20:56:09 GMT -8
She gave a short, sharp laugh - partly out of relief but also because of the policeman's absurdity. He could see the role he played as a mask, whereas Chloro changed her identity because of whom she wanted to be. She had the power to be anyone she wanted to be, even a policeman. She was nobody. She was everyone. But Trask could only be Trask. A pity.
"I had some errands to run in the area, so I thought I would drop-by on my way out. Just a small project, trivial even. Y'see, your colleagues have got too zealous. So, a cruiser needed to be sabotaged. Twenty-three charges, two bribes and it worked like a charm. It's a pity that the skipper had the balls to punch the self-destruct, otherwise the splash would have been bigger."
Chloro admired her hands while she told Trask her part of the story. But that was only the teaser. The real plan, her actual objective, was far more aggressive than her paymasters. Trask had already made his first mistake - she hadn't come from very far away. She was homegrown from one of the Five Brothers and this is where she had grown her teeth and claws. The second was thinking that she was here for him, a personal vendetta, when she was here to do that and more.
She took a drag from her cigarette, pulling the flaming ember closer to her lips while she stared at him.
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Callidus
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Post by Callidus on Sept 12, 2013 21:50:22 GMT -8
He moved, his right hand shooting out to grip her throat, careful not to crush it in his armored fingers as he stood and turned to face her, pulling her up nearly to his eye level. Eyes that were narrow and sharp and calculating. All of the melancholy had been washed out of them by those few words of confession. "There were two I knew of, one to infiltrate and one to direct." He didn't specify what there was two of, and he almost seemed to be talking to himself more than her. "A third would not be out of the question. Your experience and interests would be beneficial, and your nature would ensure chaos and limit my ability to predict the endgame. Why, though? Why target me? Of all the rangers you could have gone after. There are hundreds with better records and more experience. More influence on the others."
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 13, 2013 20:28:49 GMT -8
Chloro gagged as Trask held her by the throat, her feet dangling in the air. She still managed a smirk as perverse satisfaction filled her. It was sudden but not unexpected. Although Trask was a unique instrument, she still could play him just as well as she could play any other instrument. And his composure had shattered when she hit it with the right pitch.
The bar went quiet as everyone forgot themselves and watched the policeman heft a businesswoman by the throat.
Ten seconds without air. Panic. A special kind of alacrity filled her. Even though she had She could almost feel his breath on her her face when he spoke. A view into the complex machinery of his brain. His insufferably clear-cut, black-and-white solutions. The self-righteousness. His mind was something special. Yet, for all its complexity and ability, he could barely control his body that wanted nothing more than simply kill her.
She grabbed him by the armour and pulled herself up, relieving the pressure. Chloro inhaled and snarled at him:
"You'll never know. Squeeze any tighter, and you, me, and everyone, goes up in smoke."
The detonator was in her other hand. Would Trask drop her and go for it? It was a round, shiny cylinder, with a lovely, big trigger. No deadman's switch here. It needed a lover's caress before it would explode into life.
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Callidus
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Post by Callidus on Sept 13, 2013 20:53:01 GMT -8
"Perhaps." He eyed the detonator in the corner of his vision without taking his gaze off her. He could snap her neck and push her away, encasing her and the detonator in a barrier to contain the explosion. No collateral damage. The question was, would the barrier be strong enough to contain an explosion of that magnitude? Would he even be fast enough to create it in time? He'd seen her work, and there were few fingers as nimble as hers on an explosive. It wasn't a chance he was willing to take.*
*Fighting back the urge to kill her anyway and just be done with it, he finally managed to release his grip on her neck. "If you're not going to give me answers, and you're not going to kill me, then why are you even here? To gloat? To come and parade your success in front of me? You've tried to imply that this isn't personal, but if that's the case, where are the others?" The shifter of course could be anywhere or anyone, but the Yarkoran was too big to go unnoticed, even in a crowd like this. He could have stayed behind to avoid arousing suspicion prematurely, but what would be the point? He'd had Trask dead to rights out in the forest and simply let him go. No, this wasn't a part of their plan. This was personal.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 14, 2013 8:13:22 GMT -8
The grin only became wider.
She never got tired of the thrill of gambling against death, betting her life and the disbelief she felt every time she won. Besides, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. It gave her the feeling of invincibility, that had carried her when others succumbed to despair and defeat. After staring death in the eye, it redefined a person's perception of what was impossible. And she wasn't selfish - Chloro wanted nothing more than to share the glorious feeling of being nothing more than a bag of skin, dreaming the impossible, accomplishing the unattainable, riding the tiger.
"You're a smart guy. I'm sure you can figure out the answers - they're all right here."
Chloro pointed to herself. The rest of the bar had become deathly silent, watching the two of them square off and aware that their lives hung in the balance.
"I could tell you, but should have killed me when you had the chance. At the end of this, you might find out, you might survive, but there are many who wont. You might've been a hero if you had stopped me right here, right now. Maybe you'll be an even bigger hero if you stop his plan. I really hope you do."
Chloro twisted the detonator to a deadman's switch, dialed the delay to three seconds and pressed it.
"But don't think you will."
She pulled spool from the handle and tossed it to Trask. Chloro wasn't quite so stupid to give him the detonator the explosive she carried on her person. She had planted a bomb in the bar before she approached him. He could ignore it. Or he could catch it and continue to hold it, possibly delaying the explosion indefinitely.
Chloro left the bar, intent on putting as much distance between her and her payload, regardless of what Trask did.
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Callidus
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Post by Callidus on Sept 14, 2013 9:55:08 GMT -8
It beeped once as it spun through the air and counted off fractions of a second, then he caught it, depressing the trigger and halting the countdown. His eyes narrowed at her as she began to back out of the bar. He could follow her, it wouldn't be difficult to keep pace and if he kept her in range of the blast radius it just might prevent her from trying anything new. Except she would have thought of that. The grenade wouldn't be her only play here. "Everyone out!" Blank looks greeted his order. "NOW!" The patrons finally realized what a bad idea it would be to disobey the man holding the explosive, and began a rush for the exit, crowding around Chloro and pushing her out even had she not wanted to leave. He watched them go, then silently followed when the establishment was empty.
When he stepped onto the street, the crowd continued to disperse, word having spread of the man with the explosive. A clear space had opened up around the cantina and continued to grow, and sirens could be heard in the distance, growing nearer. Responding to the report of a bomb threat, no doubt. That was good. They'd keep the building clear until it was checked out. Now to find her again.
Looking up, Trask pulled his arm back then rocketed it forward, releasing the detonator at the apex of the throw and sending it up a great deal farther than any organic arm had a right to, thanks to the enhancement of his armor. It detonated two point six seconds later in midair, a harmless fireworks display, and Trask was on the move again. He bent his knees and then pushed up, again relying on the enhancements of his armor to carry him three floors up to the roof of a building across the street, where he turned to survey the crowd below. Both his own memory and the facial recognition telemetry available to his cybernetic eyes were put to use as he watched, looking for any sign of Chloro in the rapidly dispersing throng of people below.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 14, 2013 21:04:48 GMT -8
KA-FHOOOOM!
A shockwave followed by a fiery explosion rocked the bar and the street outside. It was a small explosion but coupled to the fuel cells that powered the bar, it made a satisfying incendiary explosion. Pity there was nobody inside the bar to appreciate it. Chloro frowned as she picked herself up, annoyed and angry that he had sussed out her detonator/grenade trick quite so easily. Interesting. She could sense his logic keeping pace with her perverseness, almost like a waltz. He was one step ahead of her. But she would always be one explosion ahead of him. She heard sirens approach and that was her cue to go on the run. Always run when they advance. The street was flooded with people desperate to escape. Perfect. She triggered the next explosion.
KA-BOOOOM!
Chloro's next bomb had been planted in the building across the street. Once she had flushed Trask and the surviving civilians from the bar, the follow-up would have been enough to finish him off. It was a high-explosive satchel, with enough power to topple the building over and into the street, bringing several hundred tonnes of debris down on the fleeing people. A huge cloud of dust and smoke covered the area.
Her suit was ruined. Covered with dust, a bleeding from a flesh wound, she weaved through one of the alleys that she had scouted as her escape route. It had been a close scrape - she had nearly been crushed but fortune had once again smiled upon her. Disarming a chemical mine in a dumpster, she retrieved her grenade launcher, blast coat, combat mask and combat boots. No, she wasn't about to chase Trask. All that she'd do is cut a length of rope and he'd hang himself with it.
A groundcar pulled up and drove her to her next target - Coronet Interchange South.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 16, 2013 22:29:26 GMT -8
It was a fine art to assemble a chemical IED in the back of a bouncing vehicle but Chloro was able to do it without breaking a sweat. It was the sweetest smell in the galaxy - a neurotoxin with blister agent. Carefully, she inserted the detonator into the charge beneath the compressed gas cylinder. Chloro was economical about her explosives. Each component, each stage was capable of dealing hurt in all kinds of ways. Take for example the the ignition charge: when it shredded the cylinder, the shrapnel would be on par with an anti-personnel grenade. She stroked the cylinder. It would be a rude awakening for the citizens of Coronet. Who could have anticipated such an attack on such a soft-target? No-one could. Just like none of her village could have anticipated a similar attack. Although the gas would burn and choke, unfeelingly, impersonally, for Chloro it was personal.
She held her arm out obedently as the other in the vehicle swabbed and injected her. The stimulants made the whole world sharper and a little slower. Her focus narrowed and all she saw was her objective.
Welcome to Coronet Interchange South
Chloro fired a chemical round onto the tarmac outside the transit station. She reloaded and kept launching grenades until there was hazy wall of eriee green gas. Wheezing and choking communters staggered back into the station. The security forces were simply overwhelmed. Wading easily through the smog, wearing her mask and suit, Chloro picked up a radio from one of the downed guards. She dialed it over to an open channel.
::To all forces in Coronet centre! We're under a chemical attack! Multiple attackers! We have civilian casualities! Send all available reinforcements, immediately!:: Leaving the radio on, she put it onto his chest, letting it catch his last desperate breath and death rattle. That would bring them running. And Trask wouldn't forget her particularly rasping voice, even if it was muffled behind the mask. Of course it was a trap.
Pushing through the disorientated crowd of people, she put the IED down and armed it. She checked the train timetable: 12:11 was the departure time for the next train to Coronet Centre. That meant the line would be clear in the next 15 minutes.
Loading a HE shell, she crouched in the crowd and left her commlink on to listen to the security chatter. She would kill for a smoke right now but she didn't dare take her mask off. It had happened so many times to her comrades. They simply forgot about the lethal gas and opened their masks to scratch their nose and died. Horribly.
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Callidus
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Post by Callidus on Sept 16, 2013 23:55:05 GMT -8
Trask's eyes narrowed grimly as he watched the building below disintegrate in a cloud of flame, blowing chunks of debris out into the street. He'd been right about her backup plan then. His scan of the street below had yielded no results, and he had no way to track her. He had a recording of her biorhythms and physical characteristics, taken by his ocular implants all those months ago when he was with the pirates and updated in the cantina, but without the sensor suite on his ship the information was useless. A ship that was now a smoldering pile of metal out in the middle of the fores...The building he stood on collapsed beneath his feet, and his mind reached out on instinct, surrounding and enveloping his body in a perfectly transparent energy field that nonetheless possessed far more durability than even bes'kar could boast. He could do little else than fall, the debris crashing down around him until all motion suddenly halted, leaving him buried beneath the rubble in inky blackness.It took several moments before his mind was able to make any sense of his surroundings. Even with his implants, the impenetrable darkness of being buried alive yielded nothing in the way of visible cues for direction. He closed his eyes and waited for his head to stop spinning, then reached out with his sixth sense, his sense of the force, and found the beacons of life from the beings on the streets nearby. The beacons of life, as well as the horror of death. Agony and loss lanced through him, and he snapped his mind shut against it, retreating to his dark sanctuary of rubble. That brief glimpse had been all he needed though, and he now knew where he had to go.Remarkably, he'd come to a stop in a mostly upright position, and all he had to do now was find a way to dig himself out. Cautiously, he tried moving his right arm forward, the motion driving his shoulder back into the rubble behind him as his arm tried to push through the rubble in front. Even with his force barrier holding it at bay, it was nearly skin tight and there was not a lot of room to move. Or air to breathe. If he didn't get out soon, suffocation would be the most likely outcome. He began to shift his leg as well, but even with the strength of his armor in the movement, the rubble was simply too densely packed. It would take far too long. He wasn't strong enough.No. Strength is relative. I am as strong as I need to be.He inhaled one last breathe, then focused his mind and willed his right arm forward. Not with the muscles and sinew that it was made of, but with the energy of the barrier that infused and surrounded it. Mind over matter, as the mystics might say. It was slow at first, but the arm began to move steadily forward, regardless of the weight of the rubble in its path. Next, he moved his leg, driving it through the debris as he would through the air while striding along a sidewalk. Then the other leg, shifting himself forward step by step as he ignored the crushing weight of the building around him and forged his way onward to safety.It must certainly have been a strange sight for those gathered outside the range of the collapsed building, watching as a tall blue man strode out of several tons of rubble like it was so much water on a beach, though when he was finally free of it and opened his eyes, he inhaled sharply and his shoulders sagged in fatigue. He had not even known that was possible before he had tried it, before survival had made it necessary, but he now had definitive proof that the force was capable of far more than his father's technology ever had been.Turning to the nearest security officer, he approached the man and was about to inquire about the survivors when a frantic message came screeching out of the man's comm. The voice was instantly recognizable, and Trask was moving before the message had finished playing. "I'm commandeering your cruiser, officer. Sector ranger authority." The man didn't even have time to respond before Trask was past him and climbing into the speeder.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It wasn't long before the speeder was pulling into the interchange station as a sickly green gas poured out of the entrances and exits. No doubt Chloro's work. Grabbing a mask from the cruiser's emergency kit, Trask pulled it on then stepped out into the haze.His ocular implants adjusted immediately, and he set them to scan for any vital signs that were not erratic and on the verge of death. He knew that if the toxin was deadly then the beings who had already inhaled the gas were beyond saving, and if it wasn't then they didn't need saving, so he set his sights on preventing the next attack and ending the threat Chloro posed. To that end, he drew the pistol from his right thigh and moved deeper into the station, his mechanical gaze piercing the fog that surrounded him and searching out the one healthy biorhythm he knew would be waiting for him. After all, if she didn't want to trap and kill him, why call for reinforcements?
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Sept 18, 2013 23:20:54 GMT -8
Futility. Society seemed to crave it - building things to help them get around, but not having the slightest idea where they want to go. At least the people here knew where they would be going. The mortuary. Chloro smirked. Maybe Trask would appreciate the irony of it. If not, he could at least appreciate the trap she had set for him. Not particularly subtle but forcefully compelling. She was baiting him and the trap was obvious - she wasn't the only one that was pink and healthy here. Yet, he couldn't refuse. She had been forcing his moves, keeping him off-balance, holding the initiative.
Chloro didn't need to hide. This was her trap. Sitting atop the IED, cross-legged, waiting, wheezing impatiently. The most obvious target. But Coronet Interchange South was huge, at least 400 metres wide and she was sitting at the far end. It was nearly ankle deep in the fallen, incapacitated crowd of people. Affecting a surprise she didn't feel, she activated another comlink.
::Oh! You survived! Congratulations. Pity, most of the people here wont survive unless they get help, quick. You could stop it now. All I want is your hands. Both of them. I'll be happy with those.::
He could demonstrate his remarkable accuracy and try to shoot her in the face. Or he could try getting personal with her.
She was prepared for that.
Precious seconds melted away...
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 21, 2013 1:11:10 GMT -8
Nondescript tapcaf, local time 00:50
It was rare that he found himself coreward of Manda'yaim, especially with Mand'alor having declared a Holy War on anything that used the Force, but Darian had found himself on the trail of a smuggler. Not just an smuggler, of course- the woman had never been Mando herself or anything like that- just some relic of his past. Something that needed seeing to.
He could see, in his HUD, that the T-visor and durasteel armor that he had elected to wear- by far heavier and more cumbersome than his beskar, despite its craft- drew more attention than he would have liked. He kept his sonic dampeners turned up, uninterested in the peanut gallery, and instead filtered the HoloNet feed in front of his right eye.
They had never been friends. Just partners in a time where the same man had hired both of them. What he knew about the Corellian fell apart after about a year or so after they had gone their separate ways. "Aishya Orlan" had been a false persona, he thought, but everything about her, name and face, identity, had seemed real. The date of death, the cause, even the remains had been recorded convincingly.
But a smuggler who wanted to disappear would have no problem generating false credentials, or terminating their second life. And a Mandaloria. Who wanted to find them?
Well, it would only be a matter of time before someone made a mistake. And "Aishya," well...
::Should have kept living quietly, cyar'ika,:: he muttered, low enough that his vocal module wouldn't transmit it outside his helmet. Then, he spoke up. ::Tell me where she is.::
He held the shatterpistol low, on the tabletop so as not to attract attention. Where it aimed, at the man's chest, it would neither be seen nor heard, and if he wasn't completely satisfied with the answer, he could be gone before anyone noticed the body. Darian was confident he wouldn't need to worry about that, but you could never be sure with Corellians. "Aiysha has been dead for almost ten years," the man stammered over his words, looking for a hint of emotion in the visor before him. Perhaps the most unnerving thing about Mando helmets. You could never tell whether you would die or not until after they left. "I'm telling the truth. I swear."
::What does the name "Avy Brynn" mean to you?:: As he spoke the words, he saw the man's eyes dsrt about in despsrstion. This clearly was not a man used to pressure. At least, not of the lethal variety. ::Relax. I don't want to kill her. She has information I need.::
The man clearly did not like any of this. Nor did he trust Darian. "Coruscant," he said warily, "that's all I know. Avy said she wanted a new life. She wanted a husband, and kids. Only, she never got married, from what I heard."
::Funny,:: Darian replied tonelessly, in that mechanical voice his helmet emitted, ::Have a nice life, Jerik. And stay on Corellia. It's a hard time for your kind.::
Darian rose, the beskar tomahawk hanging at his left hip clattering against armor plates, sounding ominously like the rattle of bones. It was enough to make a man's blood run cold. Jerik watched the armored man leave, and then, bowed his head in prayer.
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