Obsession is an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind. It is not a cycle, it is a stagnated thought which refuses to leave one's imaginary canva's. It's like insatiable hunger that drives one insane, and proves to break even the strongest of wills. In fact, we give into many obsessions in our daily life, some of them disguise themselves as nothing more than habits, and maybe they are that, a habit. But there exists a certain level of primal, raw emotion in most sentient beings of the galaxy. It's primordial nature threatens to destroy everything it's user comes across, foe and ally alike.
Wrath. Something a person can't reason with, it does not need a reason to exist. And if it needed to, then one could find plenty. On a daily basis even! Wrath is a feeling that's usually kept in check, and only surfaces verily rare, if at all during person's life. Sure, anger can come from reasonable thoughts and reactions to these thoughts. But Wrath is like a mask, that may just crack sometimes. Even if a person makes a small mistake, you feel like you want to grab them by their hair and violently slam them in a wall repeatedly until there is nothing but a bloodied chunk left on the ground. This feeling exists for just a second, the thought of committing unspeakable brutal acts persists for so short that we might not even remember of thinking about it in the first place.
Of courses, it's only natural we think about it. But such emotion is kept in check, however. What if there is something that brings it out, giving one a constant excuse to act upon, to abuse that caveman-like instinct? Obsession, mixed with subsequent Wrath is something to be feared, as when a person's desire, no matter how noble it is. Is reduced to it's most primal, undilluted components, it might just make them into a beast, monster, of their own making.
Very few people tended to hang out in the streets of Nar Shaddaa alone for too long, and even in groups. Many were cautious. A scrawny looking male just finished going through the alleyways, patrolling with a hand close to their blaster pistol, taking a relieved sigh, they stepped towards what appeared to be a closed cantina, or rather, it's staff entrance, opening the door only to hear metallic screech. "What the..."
An extremely old ventilattion shaft falls down next to them, making the guard step aside in fit of surprise, and take a heavy sigh, tired and weary eyes looking up. "I fething hate this place... T'was a bad idea by boss to run the deed here, chit is so old it's going to collapse on us one day." He lamented over the state of the business he was in, walking in and closing the door behind himself, not forgetting to lock it as well. The cantina was eerily quiet save for some old punk music playing on the speakers, he walked through, passing by some of the Twi'lek servants, who were dressed in such a way that, lack of clothes would barely be any different, although gangster had no eye for such. Seeming to be more focused on the job ahead of him. "Tis' John I'm back from patrol, Cole, how's the second floor looking?" His tone quiet but having air of confidence and authority behind it.
"Pretty good, Twi'lek's are an eye candy from all the way over there, i was told I could have a piece of em' after the shift's done." He spoke with overplayed sweetness in his tone, making the older gangster roll his eyes in disgust.
"...don't get too distracted, and... Chris, chris? I don't see you nowhere." The gangster looked around, only to be met with radio silence. "Oh come on John, he's probably drinking on the job as usual." Cole played it off, or at the very least, attempted to calm down his fellow guard. But John wasn't having none of it, and he strated to frantically look around. "He's not drinkin' either, hold on..." He grabbed one of Twi'lek waitress' by hand and grunted at her. "Where did Chris go?"
Twi'lek looked confused and scared for a second, muttering something under her breath. "Um, he went to the toilet after having too many drinks... I think? Why..." Before the Twi'lek could inquire any further, John went to the toilet, opening the door with a soured expression on his face, starting to speak as he went through the stalls, taking out a magnet which he slid through the lock in order to bypass it. "Well-well, if isn't it the serial drinker, huh? When I'll get you to the boss, he's going to wind up whipping you so hard you'll stop being an alcoholic chitass-"
He opened the stall door with a creek. Chriss' mutilated body falling down onto the ground into a pool of it's own blood. Making John nearly puke at the grotesque imagery, he looked up. Seeing an... Open, ventilation duct. His eyes going further wide as he presses onto his commlink. "Frack! We got an intruder! Get the alarm on Cole!" He practically screamed into his radio, and yet... Nothing.
"Cole?"
Having instructed the waitresses to go back to the kitchen and warn the other guards, John made a dash for the second floor, going up the stairs, hearing a sound of metal hitting against the cold ground repeatedly, his eyes widening as he saw a fragmentation grenade falling towards him, beeping softly. "Chit!" He jumped to the side, falling down the stairs he was climbing just a moment ago, barely avoiding the explosion which sent fragments hurling in all directions.
Now on the ground, prone. John points up his blaster pistol, seeing a red cloaked individual pass by the second floor of cantina, their hand gently waving across the rails. Humming, seemingly moving without a single worry. With anger, he'd take several shots at them, although some came close to hitting her. individual had uncanny reflexes, and they ducked out of the way just before they were hit by the blaster bolts. By then however, alarms were sounded, and various guards approached from the bar, and kitchen area, as well as person booths, a total of 16 guards, with John included, with more pouring out of the second floor as well. The figure though, had planned for that, it seemed, with a flick of their wrist they took out a detonator, while in the other, they had a grappling hook, shooting the latter at the rail of the second floor, on the other end, the red hood jumped, activating the detonator. In an instant, cheap detonite explosives, rigged to surfaces of many of the walls and ceilings exploded, on it's own, it wouldn't cause too much damage to the cantina, combination of putting them specifically in the weakest, rusting spots of the cantina, and the ceiling caves in, the junk and pieces of debris falling on top of John and the squad of the security guards, toppling them nearly instantly.
Despite that, many more were poruing out of the second floor and so forth, by then, the red cloaked figure landed on top of debris. But were immedietly forced to fall from it and hide between the naturally formed cover as to avoid the blaster fire coming from nearly all directions, grunting in pain as they fell. "Well, you asked for it..." Feminine voice hushed, although mostly drowned out by the flurry of blaster fire.
Storing the grappling hook, instead, and taking out an E-11, sniper variant blaster. She engaged into a gunfight with the gangsters, but having little to no success in taking them down, managing to score only a few successful kills, as more of them were pouring in, their superior firepower giving very little place for her to retort with fire of her own. The makeshift cover of debris was starting to fall apart too, and it wouldn't be long that the girl would have to deal with the full security.
Hence, she decided to go for a trick, and going prone, she'd take off her cloak and throw it from the cover, while rushing into the opposite direction, the cloak had a few holes put into it, but thanks to it's supreme craftsmanship, didn't vaporize immedietly, on the other hand. The girl went for a mad dash to the bar, her sniper rifle holstered back in lieu of her taking out a vibro-sword, and making wide, vicious swings, to take care of any guards that were enroaching on her position. Taking full advantage of the bigger bulk of guards having their aim on the cloak.
While doing such, a dash was made through to get into the kitchen area, which was oddly enough, mostly barren, save for a lonely door at the other end of it, to which she ran to, furiously kicking them open, she ended up in a long, long hallway. slowly twisting into what appeared to be an entrance to a basement area, walking felt like an eternity, but upon opening the door.
SMACK!
She was sent flying back, choking on her own blood, and forced on one knee. The young huntress looked up to see what appeared to be a Dowutin wielding a pitch black cybernetic arm, with a large fist on it. The Dowutin himself looked at least 7'3 foot tall, perhaps even taller, though. She didn't have time to may attention to such details, only the heavy armor which he appeared to wear.
Before she could come up with a plan of action, Dowutin, he charged towards her, attempting to cave her skull in with a well place punch. but she just barely avoided it, rolling underneath him, and gaining distance quickly. "Hey there big guy... You uh, heh... Seem pretty strong." Spoken half-nervously, knowing that she couldn't stall for too long as reinforcements were probably half-way through the kitchen at the moment.
Cracking their knuckles, the large, intimidating figure gave her a snarled smile. "Yes, I am. And I'll break you in more than one way, girl." He laughed, but as he did. Angered huntress took out her blaster pistol in the other hand and shoot repeatedly at the Dowutin. To which, surprisingly, the large, unstoppable force responds by putting their hand around their face area, blocking the shots with their superior cybernetics and heavy armor underneath the clothing. charging at the poor girl who has little to no room to dodge the strike, she was backhanded through the door, sent flying once again and hitting the rails with her back, letting out an agonizing cry of pain, while nearly benting the rail with the force she was hurled into it.
Just barely finding strength to stand up, her body shaking, Marigold looked around in horror, realizing that the inside looked far more horrifying than she thought, opening a view to what appeared to be a large complex full of cubically shaped cages, stacked on top of one another, spreading off into at least ten floors, a zoo, for sentient people, slaves. Waiting to be sold.
"Why the frack... Are you... Doing it?" She coughed up some of her own blood, limping slightly as she looked at dowutin in disgust. "What's wrong with you? Protecting your boss and for WHAT? Just try to disobey him once and you'll end up like the rest of them!"
Her cursings and accusations however were met with a gleeful laugh that left the girl's face sinking into disbelief. "Oooh, you poor fool... I AM THE BOSS!" He pointed at the bounty hunter. "And you, my girl, are a new addition to my collection."
"Through my death fething body!" She stood back up, the rage and hatred filling up the cracks in her bones, as she seemingly found second wind her strive to survive and see through this vile person's death.
"Oh dear, I can arrange for that." The slaver boss started to menacingly run towards the girl, prompting her to duck to the side as now she had more room to manuever in, the mighty dowutin lifted their cybernetic arm and planted it into the ground, where Marigold would be, leaving a huge dent in the metal floor. Whilist the boss was recovering from that strike, she used her advantage of being more dextrous than the boss, going for a hit on the boss, with a few cuts, vibro-swords were terrifyingly powerful. With the ability to easily cut through flesh and armor, however, she wound up having done little to no damage, leaving a few mild gashes, through which Dowutin endured. No matter how much she changed up her tacticts, it seemed that her attacks didn't do as much.
Her breathing shaky. The situation seemed to be getting more and more desperate, as she had fewer, and fewer options to fight the heavily modified and armoured Dowutin. Injured and limping, the huntress was getting tired of dodging the strikes, no matter how telegraphed they were, it was exhausting, causing more pain to her leg. On which she was limping. slowly being cornered to the same ramp and rails she was hurled into not long ago. looking back, she saw that the fall from there was going to be a... Really, really long one.
Taking a deep breath, the young huntress let go of her fear, and calmed down, holding her vibro-sword in two hands. "Come, then."
"Rraaargh!" The boss slaver shouted at top of their lungs, charging at Marigold, they really weren't that much different from her in the aspect of bloodlust, she herself, was similar. Though, lusting for blood she might be, the girl did have faith in something...
That her goals, were noble.
Closing her eyes, she could picture the mental image of the slaver approaching her, opening her eyes again, it felt rather weird. With everything around her, slowed down, motion blur noticeable in her and slaver's movements. Capitalizing on the clarity of her mind, and blade lifted with a great purpose, she steps to the side and jabs it deeply into dowutin that charged towards her, and although the blade didn't go as deep, she dragged it across the side of the slaver, leaving behind a large, red scar.
Simultaniously, turning around and grabbing her blaster pistol, and shooting off a flurry of shots, further tipping the slaver and making them take a few steps back, leaning against the railing and fall down, plummeting with a sickening thud after five to six seconds of silence.
The young huntress grabbed on her side, feeling the strain of the battle and operation getting to her, as she made her way into a console room, naturally, all guards were already making their way through the hallway, that much she could see from monitor room, their amount suggesting that they sent all of the guards to deal with her, the bounty hunters' eyes fall onto a lever by the console, her knowledge of elecronics not failing her, as she recognizes the switch. Grabbing and turning it down.
For a second, nothing happens, but an alarm blares loudly. As all cages simultaniously open, releasing the prisoners within. After a minute or so of slicing misadventures, she manages to turn off the slave collars as well!
The young huntress looked at the prisoners who stepped out of the cells, all of them running towards the exit, the one through which Marigold came through. The guards were unable to hold their ground against them, caught off-guard, and overwhelmed, as some gave their lifes in a desperate attempt to feel freedom. For her though, that victory felt satisfying, each step she took, was followed by a lapse in memory. As she barely held onto her conciousness, deciding to bring the place to ruin completely, is about all she can really recall afterwards, each pace feeling heavy, perhaps, it was the burden of mountan of corpses she carried, or it was the wounds of battles, physical and mental.
Regardless, she'd keep going, after all. There was no point in stopping, until either she was dead, or she'd see slavery completely eradicated, a journey of inevitable self-destruction, it mattered not what happened to the slaves afterwards, whether they went somewhere, joined unsavory groups, and what not. After all, she thought that they had their own destiny to forge, and she had her's, to do what she does best.
Kill, maim. Just like she was taught to.
The news travelled quickly across the HoloNet, of a terrorist spree across the outer rim, as various leaders of syndicates and their whole structures were torn down, burned down, and devastated completely. Entire buildings levered by explosions, causing some civilian casualties as well, resisting arrest by authorities. A crusade taken upon by a single girl, Marigold, known mostly by her alias which many syndicates would take caution in.
The Red Scar.
From outer rim, however, the slaying of slavers continued all the way to the Mid Rim, many predict that the bloodlust filled maniac will strike next in the core worlds, obsessed with revenge, and willing to face law enforcement, if it meant she'd get her way.
Her very own justice.
Wrath. Something a person can't reason with, it does not need a reason to exist. And if it needed to, then one could find plenty. On a daily basis even! Wrath is a feeling that's usually kept in check, and only surfaces verily rare, if at all during person's life. Sure, anger can come from reasonable thoughts and reactions to these thoughts. But Wrath is like a mask, that may just crack sometimes. Even if a person makes a small mistake, you feel like you want to grab them by their hair and violently slam them in a wall repeatedly until there is nothing but a bloodied chunk left on the ground. This feeling exists for just a second, the thought of committing unspeakable brutal acts persists for so short that we might not even remember of thinking about it in the first place.
Of courses, it's only natural we think about it. But such emotion is kept in check, however. What if there is something that brings it out, giving one a constant excuse to act upon, to abuse that caveman-like instinct? Obsession, mixed with subsequent Wrath is something to be feared, as when a person's desire, no matter how noble it is. Is reduced to it's most primal, undilluted components, it might just make them into a beast, monster, of their own making.
Very few people tended to hang out in the streets of Nar Shaddaa alone for too long, and even in groups. Many were cautious. A scrawny looking male just finished going through the alleyways, patrolling with a hand close to their blaster pistol, taking a relieved sigh, they stepped towards what appeared to be a closed cantina, or rather, it's staff entrance, opening the door only to hear metallic screech. "What the..."
An extremely old ventilattion shaft falls down next to them, making the guard step aside in fit of surprise, and take a heavy sigh, tired and weary eyes looking up. "I fething hate this place... T'was a bad idea by boss to run the deed here, chit is so old it's going to collapse on us one day." He lamented over the state of the business he was in, walking in and closing the door behind himself, not forgetting to lock it as well. The cantina was eerily quiet save for some old punk music playing on the speakers, he walked through, passing by some of the Twi'lek servants, who were dressed in such a way that, lack of clothes would barely be any different, although gangster had no eye for such. Seeming to be more focused on the job ahead of him. "Tis' John I'm back from patrol, Cole, how's the second floor looking?" His tone quiet but having air of confidence and authority behind it.
"Pretty good, Twi'lek's are an eye candy from all the way over there, i was told I could have a piece of em' after the shift's done." He spoke with overplayed sweetness in his tone, making the older gangster roll his eyes in disgust.
"...don't get too distracted, and... Chris, chris? I don't see you nowhere." The gangster looked around, only to be met with radio silence. "Oh come on John, he's probably drinking on the job as usual." Cole played it off, or at the very least, attempted to calm down his fellow guard. But John wasn't having none of it, and he strated to frantically look around. "He's not drinkin' either, hold on..." He grabbed one of Twi'lek waitress' by hand and grunted at her. "Where did Chris go?"
Twi'lek looked confused and scared for a second, muttering something under her breath. "Um, he went to the toilet after having too many drinks... I think? Why..." Before the Twi'lek could inquire any further, John went to the toilet, opening the door with a soured expression on his face, starting to speak as he went through the stalls, taking out a magnet which he slid through the lock in order to bypass it. "Well-well, if isn't it the serial drinker, huh? When I'll get you to the boss, he's going to wind up whipping you so hard you'll stop being an alcoholic chitass-"
He opened the stall door with a creek. Chriss' mutilated body falling down onto the ground into a pool of it's own blood. Making John nearly puke at the grotesque imagery, he looked up. Seeing an... Open, ventilation duct. His eyes going further wide as he presses onto his commlink. "Frack! We got an intruder! Get the alarm on Cole!" He practically screamed into his radio, and yet... Nothing.
"Cole?"
Having instructed the waitresses to go back to the kitchen and warn the other guards, John made a dash for the second floor, going up the stairs, hearing a sound of metal hitting against the cold ground repeatedly, his eyes widening as he saw a fragmentation grenade falling towards him, beeping softly. "Chit!" He jumped to the side, falling down the stairs he was climbing just a moment ago, barely avoiding the explosion which sent fragments hurling in all directions.
Now on the ground, prone. John points up his blaster pistol, seeing a red cloaked individual pass by the second floor of cantina, their hand gently waving across the rails. Humming, seemingly moving without a single worry. With anger, he'd take several shots at them, although some came close to hitting her. individual had uncanny reflexes, and they ducked out of the way just before they were hit by the blaster bolts. By then however, alarms were sounded, and various guards approached from the bar, and kitchen area, as well as person booths, a total of 16 guards, with John included, with more pouring out of the second floor as well. The figure though, had planned for that, it seemed, with a flick of their wrist they took out a detonator, while in the other, they had a grappling hook, shooting the latter at the rail of the second floor, on the other end, the red hood jumped, activating the detonator. In an instant, cheap detonite explosives, rigged to surfaces of many of the walls and ceilings exploded, on it's own, it wouldn't cause too much damage to the cantina, combination of putting them specifically in the weakest, rusting spots of the cantina, and the ceiling caves in, the junk and pieces of debris falling on top of John and the squad of the security guards, toppling them nearly instantly.
Despite that, many more were poruing out of the second floor and so forth, by then, the red cloaked figure landed on top of debris. But were immedietly forced to fall from it and hide between the naturally formed cover as to avoid the blaster fire coming from nearly all directions, grunting in pain as they fell. "Well, you asked for it..." Feminine voice hushed, although mostly drowned out by the flurry of blaster fire.
Storing the grappling hook, instead, and taking out an E-11, sniper variant blaster. She engaged into a gunfight with the gangsters, but having little to no success in taking them down, managing to score only a few successful kills, as more of them were pouring in, their superior firepower giving very little place for her to retort with fire of her own. The makeshift cover of debris was starting to fall apart too, and it wouldn't be long that the girl would have to deal with the full security.
Hence, she decided to go for a trick, and going prone, she'd take off her cloak and throw it from the cover, while rushing into the opposite direction, the cloak had a few holes put into it, but thanks to it's supreme craftsmanship, didn't vaporize immedietly, on the other hand. The girl went for a mad dash to the bar, her sniper rifle holstered back in lieu of her taking out a vibro-sword, and making wide, vicious swings, to take care of any guards that were enroaching on her position. Taking full advantage of the bigger bulk of guards having their aim on the cloak.
While doing such, a dash was made through to get into the kitchen area, which was oddly enough, mostly barren, save for a lonely door at the other end of it, to which she ran to, furiously kicking them open, she ended up in a long, long hallway. slowly twisting into what appeared to be an entrance to a basement area, walking felt like an eternity, but upon opening the door.
SMACK!
She was sent flying back, choking on her own blood, and forced on one knee. The young huntress looked up to see what appeared to be a Dowutin wielding a pitch black cybernetic arm, with a large fist on it. The Dowutin himself looked at least 7'3 foot tall, perhaps even taller, though. She didn't have time to may attention to such details, only the heavy armor which he appeared to wear.
Before she could come up with a plan of action, Dowutin, he charged towards her, attempting to cave her skull in with a well place punch. but she just barely avoided it, rolling underneath him, and gaining distance quickly. "Hey there big guy... You uh, heh... Seem pretty strong." Spoken half-nervously, knowing that she couldn't stall for too long as reinforcements were probably half-way through the kitchen at the moment.
Cracking their knuckles, the large, intimidating figure gave her a snarled smile. "Yes, I am. And I'll break you in more than one way, girl." He laughed, but as he did. Angered huntress took out her blaster pistol in the other hand and shoot repeatedly at the Dowutin. To which, surprisingly, the large, unstoppable force responds by putting their hand around their face area, blocking the shots with their superior cybernetics and heavy armor underneath the clothing. charging at the poor girl who has little to no room to dodge the strike, she was backhanded through the door, sent flying once again and hitting the rails with her back, letting out an agonizing cry of pain, while nearly benting the rail with the force she was hurled into it.
Just barely finding strength to stand up, her body shaking, Marigold looked around in horror, realizing that the inside looked far more horrifying than she thought, opening a view to what appeared to be a large complex full of cubically shaped cages, stacked on top of one another, spreading off into at least ten floors, a zoo, for sentient people, slaves. Waiting to be sold.
"Why the frack... Are you... Doing it?" She coughed up some of her own blood, limping slightly as she looked at dowutin in disgust. "What's wrong with you? Protecting your boss and for WHAT? Just try to disobey him once and you'll end up like the rest of them!"
Her cursings and accusations however were met with a gleeful laugh that left the girl's face sinking into disbelief. "Oooh, you poor fool... I AM THE BOSS!" He pointed at the bounty hunter. "And you, my girl, are a new addition to my collection."
"Through my death fething body!" She stood back up, the rage and hatred filling up the cracks in her bones, as she seemingly found second wind her strive to survive and see through this vile person's death.
"Oh dear, I can arrange for that." The slaver boss started to menacingly run towards the girl, prompting her to duck to the side as now she had more room to manuever in, the mighty dowutin lifted their cybernetic arm and planted it into the ground, where Marigold would be, leaving a huge dent in the metal floor. Whilist the boss was recovering from that strike, she used her advantage of being more dextrous than the boss, going for a hit on the boss, with a few cuts, vibro-swords were terrifyingly powerful. With the ability to easily cut through flesh and armor, however, she wound up having done little to no damage, leaving a few mild gashes, through which Dowutin endured. No matter how much she changed up her tacticts, it seemed that her attacks didn't do as much.
Her breathing shaky. The situation seemed to be getting more and more desperate, as she had fewer, and fewer options to fight the heavily modified and armoured Dowutin. Injured and limping, the huntress was getting tired of dodging the strikes, no matter how telegraphed they were, it was exhausting, causing more pain to her leg. On which she was limping. slowly being cornered to the same ramp and rails she was hurled into not long ago. looking back, she saw that the fall from there was going to be a... Really, really long one.
Taking a deep breath, the young huntress let go of her fear, and calmed down, holding her vibro-sword in two hands. "Come, then."
"Rraaargh!" The boss slaver shouted at top of their lungs, charging at Marigold, they really weren't that much different from her in the aspect of bloodlust, she herself, was similar. Though, lusting for blood she might be, the girl did have faith in something...
That her goals, were noble.
Closing her eyes, she could picture the mental image of the slaver approaching her, opening her eyes again, it felt rather weird. With everything around her, slowed down, motion blur noticeable in her and slaver's movements. Capitalizing on the clarity of her mind, and blade lifted with a great purpose, she steps to the side and jabs it deeply into dowutin that charged towards her, and although the blade didn't go as deep, she dragged it across the side of the slaver, leaving behind a large, red scar.
Simultaniously, turning around and grabbing her blaster pistol, and shooting off a flurry of shots, further tipping the slaver and making them take a few steps back, leaning against the railing and fall down, plummeting with a sickening thud after five to six seconds of silence.
The young huntress grabbed on her side, feeling the strain of the battle and operation getting to her, as she made her way into a console room, naturally, all guards were already making their way through the hallway, that much she could see from monitor room, their amount suggesting that they sent all of the guards to deal with her, the bounty hunters' eyes fall onto a lever by the console, her knowledge of elecronics not failing her, as she recognizes the switch. Grabbing and turning it down.
For a second, nothing happens, but an alarm blares loudly. As all cages simultaniously open, releasing the prisoners within. After a minute or so of slicing misadventures, she manages to turn off the slave collars as well!
The young huntress looked at the prisoners who stepped out of the cells, all of them running towards the exit, the one through which Marigold came through. The guards were unable to hold their ground against them, caught off-guard, and overwhelmed, as some gave their lifes in a desperate attempt to feel freedom. For her though, that victory felt satisfying, each step she took, was followed by a lapse in memory. As she barely held onto her conciousness, deciding to bring the place to ruin completely, is about all she can really recall afterwards, each pace feeling heavy, perhaps, it was the burden of mountan of corpses she carried, or it was the wounds of battles, physical and mental.
Regardless, she'd keep going, after all. There was no point in stopping, until either she was dead, or she'd see slavery completely eradicated, a journey of inevitable self-destruction, it mattered not what happened to the slaves afterwards, whether they went somewhere, joined unsavory groups, and what not. After all, she thought that they had their own destiny to forge, and she had her's, to do what she does best.
Kill, maim. Just like she was taught to.
The news travelled quickly across the HoloNet, of a terrorist spree across the outer rim, as various leaders of syndicates and their whole structures were torn down, burned down, and devastated completely. Entire buildings levered by explosions, causing some civilian casualties as well, resisting arrest by authorities. A crusade taken upon by a single girl, Marigold, known mostly by her alias which many syndicates would take caution in.
The Red Scar.
From outer rim, however, the slaying of slavers continued all the way to the Mid Rim, many predict that the bloodlust filled maniac will strike next in the core worlds, obsessed with revenge, and willing to face law enforcement, if it meant she'd get her way.
Her very own justice.
