A Place I'd Never Go

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Geneviève had not much fondness for this world. The burrowing tubes that funneled into the subterranean oceans of Utapau were not exactly wondrous to her--more entrapping. The deep sinkholes were practically indefensible, and the only escape was up. For this reason, the location choice of this meeting seemed quite deliberate, and the Rebel leader continuously cast glances back at the platform on the tier above to make sure the splotched YT-2400 was still sitting there for her to make an escape should things come to that. It was not unreasonable behavior. Anyone who had merely had the opportunity to behold the appearance of her acquaintance would likely understand.

A yawning, brooding, perpetual breeze lifted the black strands of Lasedri's hair as she gazed across the expanse, licking across the bridge of her sharp nose. An eerie feeling--perhaps magnified by the droning whirl of the tunneled wind--rose like an incoming tide in her chest, and she pulled her signature trenchcoat taut around her mediocre form to protect against the chill. Gen backed a few meters further away from the railing.

The longer she waited, the tighter she gripped the pocketed blaster pistol, and the more perturbed she became. This was far from a rational decision. It would be wise to turn about now and rush up and out of this natural dungeon. But there was a sort of captivation--perhaps greed--that drove her to remain and hopefully discover what new power awaited her mind's attainment. Gen breathed deeply and anchored her mind, in preparation for whatever onslaught this Xiangu banshee had in store for her.

Yes, this had not been her most prudent choice.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Though neither knew of their mutual distaste, Matsu was even less a fan of Utapau than her…whatever Echo was to her. It was in one of these ports, deep subterranean holes sinking in to the planets’ crust, that she had met the man who would eventually betray her and leave her with one less arm. She had picked it because it was close to the planet they’d met each other on, and because she – admittedly – had a slightly masochistic streak and wanted to see the place where it all began for the first time in eight years.

She had arrived somewhat early, stalking through the tunnels and trying to find the exact place she’d stood and spied him across the gaping mouth of the planet. She was dressed more like her usual self than the first time Echo had seen her, sans the boots and fatigues and instead swathed in long bolts of dark fabric. (Thousand count, a ridiculous vanity she was fully aware of but also completely unashamed of.)

It was when she found the same spot she’d stood all those years ago – mostly unchanged save for a few more blaster holes in the façade and the drunken snores of a spacer off the left – that she saw Echo across the way. Ironic, she thinks as she watches her quarry, that it should be like this. She was not, contrary to outward appearances, insane like the man that she’d met here almost a decade ago. She was fully grounded and as she watches the nervous set of Echo’s posture she doesn’t plan her demise like Krius had plotted Matsu’s destruction from the first.

Death was for the weak, the cowardly, and those that would betray her.

Besides, there was much to be learned from Echo’s mind. Matsu had taught herself sith magic, how to wield illusions powerful enough to cause real damage, but she needed practice on…live test subjects. And such testing would only work on the strong. Echo’s attitude and the gall she showed in that one little move to break in to Matsu’s head made the Sith certain she would survive the rather minor intrusions Matsu had planned. But she would let the woman dictate what she wanted to learn first – after all, Matsu was business-minded and they’d agreed upon a fair trade. Echo was at a disadvantage and therefore she could have her end of the bargain first.

Matsu could take her end if her ‘partner’ decided to back out.

She glided slowly around the edge of the pit, edging through the crowds until she reached Echo. “Would it make you feel better if I pinky-promised not to mutilate you?” she asked quietly once she’d reached her, the hint of a smirk on an otherwise impassive face. She planned to bring the woman back to her ship, a quieter and safer place to work, but she had to ease her black-widow impression (even if it was true).

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

To say that she had not sensed Xiangu's presence would be inaccurate. However, she had not foreseen the woman arriving next to her at that time, and she found herself less prepared for her appearance than she would have liked. Gen scowled, disappointed in her own action. If she had not anticipated the approach vector of this 'acquaintance', how did she expect to defend her own mind--her most prized possession--against the crawling invisible fingers of this creep?

Mutilation--that was the perfect way to open up all sorts of conversations. Not one to allow someone else to take a commanding advantage, however, Lasedri endeavored to be just as foreboding in return. "If that's normal for you, then I doubt you would risk losing your own finger by sticking it out." Her own fingers did not abandon the concealed pistol buried in her coat. Indeed, it was a little paradoxical that she would have enough faith to travel all the way to this mudhole but would not trust Xiangu to even touch one strand of her hair. This was so unsafe.

Nothing was free. What had Xiangu requested in exchange for this camaraderie? Oh, yeah. The opportunity to experiment.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She supposed it had been easier in the earlier days of the Galaxy, back when those without the Force or little command over at the moment had no hope against someone who knew its secrets. (Or at least, as much as it was possible to know.) But she had seen others with power fall to the increasingly inventive weapons those without the same power had begun to make and she couldn’t put it past the woman in front of her not to have something similar tucked away. If she truly held little command over the Force she would be familiar with the weapons to use against its practitioners.

Regardless, Matsu’s smirk bloomed in to a smile when Echo snapped back with a quip of her own, a low laugh like an oil slick filling the air between them. “I suppose you’re right – one set of metal claws is enough,” she returned, waving the sharp nails on her natural hand for emphasis. “Come. Withholding trust is a quality I admire, but I promised you training in return for something I want – and I always keep my end of a bargain.” She turned then, the train of her dress sweeping the dust around her feet as she made her way back to her ship not too far from where they’d met – the Force, and all that mumbo jumbo.

She had pondered, at length, the nature of the gathering she’d found Echo a part of on Praesitlyn. It had been substantial and despite the weak minds of some (no disrespect meant, those without direction of their own often made excellent soldiers) it had been a group that with the right tools could get something done in the Galaxy. And that was…interesting. Who was Matsu teaching? And, by giving Echo knowledge, was she endangering herself in the future? It had been a feeling she was not yet familiar with. All conflicts she’d taken place in had been someone else’s fight, or hers only by association. But she had dismissed the idea as her usual tendency to consider all angles despite how far-flung and gone back to piloting to Utapau but it was something that rested in the back of her mind.

She almost welcomed it.

Once on her ship – sleek, dark, stealthy – she waved her hand at the table in her conference room, allowing Echo to choose the position that would make her most at ease before lowering herself in to a seat and crossing her legs, elbows on the arms and resting her hands lightly in her lap. “So. Tell me what you’d like to be able to do. You’ve seen how you can make suggestions to others, but how far do you see yourself taking it?” Matsu had no idea of Echo’s true knowledge or if she really knew what options were available to her, but she often found it best to let her students riff on their wishes. There were no limits to the Force, and to list abilities seemed to stunt possibility.

Besides, it was an opportunity to see how far down Echo was willing to join her in the underworld. (Matsu, at the bottom of the ladder down in the dark, a pale face looking up with eyes so dark they looked like pits. She smiled.)

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Gen found herself both anxious with anticipation of expanding her capabilities yet resistant to the process that she would have to experience. She always kept her end of the bargain. Yeah, I bet you do. There was nothing bothersome about entering someone else's ship--their own territory, where traps and souls may lay--so Gen allowed Xiangu a few paces head start before following along. What was that saying about strangers and candy?

The sketchy woman had her own shady vessel, rather fitting for her presentation and her overall aura. There was still time to back out of the deal, if Lasedri so desired. The crowds were thick enough to fade into and leave this crazy behind. But the Rebel leader passed up one chance. And then another chance. Now she was at the ramp of the dark ship, facing her last chance to ditch this thing and run. But the temptation was too immense, and she had made it this far already. Did Geneviève fear death? She thought she did not, but these sorts of things can change people's minds. Here came the step of faith.

Entering the starcraft, Gen took her moment to scan the interior, noting the large conference table and finding that somewhat comforting but even more mysterious. This one had friends? Of course, Gen was not much of a social creature, herself. There could be a club for insane folks with chiseled teeth.

Gen selected the seat with the most opportunity to draw a blaster in time should the worst case become the actual case. She allowed a beat between question and answer. "I don't want to just make suggestions. I want to make demands." She almost cringed at her own words, finding them almost tyrannical. Was that something she could tolerantly do? "I want to be able to know everything and give nothing."

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

To know everything and give nothing.​

For a moment Matsu is gone, somewhere in her head lying in the snow on Skye. The first time she’d been here she brought herself to look to the left, to the spot where her arm used to be, only once before she’d snapped her gaze away and stared at the sky – at the ship silhouette of the man who’d taken her arm escaping. (Foolish. Stupid. He saw right inside your head and this is how it ends for Matsu Xiangu. Cold. Alone. In a halo of her own blood.) She could walk her own mind with perfect clarity, and when she relived that memory now, eight years later with the girl she'd been dead and gone, she looked to the left and she stared at mangled flesh and severed bone like it was nothing at all. (He saw inside my mind once, but never again. No one will ever touch my thoughts without my permission. And I will learn to rip him apart – I will rule the place he ruined.)

To know everything and give nothing.​

She smiled at Echo’s assertion, an understanding in her features that was probably not altogether reassuring. “That’s simple enough. Let’s begin with knowing everything.” She reached over, pressing one of the buttons on the conference table and having a short conversation with one of her crew before looking back to Lasedri without explanation. “As I said to you before, there are minds that you cannot not make a suggestion to, let alone command. But most of the Galaxy is weak. Most of the Galaxy will never even know you rummaged through their heads in the first place. You can make them tell you their secrets. You can make trouble disappear.” As she spoke a man entered the room, looking reserved but expectant as Matsu waved him to a seat.

“This is Farrell. I chose him for my crew because he is unusually resistant to mind tricks,” she said by way of introduction, studying the man as if he were a particularly interesting zoo animal before returning her gaze to Echo. “This will take some…suspension of disbelief on your part I’m sure, but imagine his brain in a shell. Feel for the soft spots, the rotten parts – everyone has a gap you can sneak through. Once you’re inside you need only say what you want him to do, what you want him to tell you, and it’s yours.” She was hesitant to describe the 'feel' any more than that, as all those who used mental powers felt the process was different. It was the nature of a power that was endlessly creative and adaptable.

She had ripped Farrell’s mind open before the meeting, removing anything she wouldn’t want Echo to know if she managed to get in to the man’s head. He seemed fairly off-kilter – perhaps she’d been careless, but he was expendable beyond his use as a guinea pig.

If she did well here, they could cover ‘give nothing’…which would coincidentally be helpful for Matsu’s experiments.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

That grin was the most consoling image she had ever seen. Yes, any time this viper curved her mouth and showed her teeth, Gen was totally fine with the implications behind it. Soon, she would follow suit and file down her teeth to little fangs and probably chop off her arm while she was at it.

But Geneviève Echo Lasedri maintained her fixated gaze on the woman as she spoke, not wanting to be taken by surprise should any sudden movements be made, but also not wanting to miss a word of this. Mind games--it had always been mind games for her. But she was about to unlock the ultimate level of mindplay, if only things kept this course. And if she survived whatever Xiangu had in store. Most of the Galaxy is weak. But not you, I gather. Her goal was to surpass even the barriers of the veteran before her. She was nearly frightened by how power-hungry she already was feeling, and she had yet to learn anything in this session.

Then Farrell walked in, and everything that had felt at least manageable flew out the window. One did not often discover if another was resistant to mind tricks without first testing them. But that was almost certainly not out-of-bounds for the banshee. The man seemed mostly normal, but there was just something not right about this. How many contracts had this guy signed? Or had he signed any? Gen's heartrate jumped for an instant.

There were things that she wanted, but there were also things that were sacrilege. She hardly trusted her own abilities to read this man's mind--and if she could succeed, would she harm him in the process? The things most difficult to break often shatter fantastically when they finally do give in. Of course, that might apply to herself--a scary thought. Which was why she brushed her 'fingers' over Xiangu's mind, not letting herself be viewed as complacent in anything.

Breathing in deep, Geneviève reached out and into the circumference of this Farrell's mind and prodded about for some sort of pliable zone. After a few minutes, a piece seemed to give way, and the true test began. Where did she go from here? It was taking all her concentration, and the visible world around her began to throw her off from what she was trying to perceive of the invisible. Don't close your eyes. It could open the door for Xiangu to do something without her looking.

She closed her eyes.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Matsu kept mostly women under her employ. Almost her entire crew was female. Some said that poison was a woman’s weapon, that they preferred quiet and sneaky killing, almost akin to cowardice. Matsu, however, found women to be inherently vicious and far more brutal than their male counterparts. Watching a woman kill was something to behold – a perversion, maternal instinct rerouted to the inclination to see every single thing in their way cut down hideously and efficiently. They had fewer qualms.

It was for this reason that Farrell had been subjected to yes, admittedly less than fair treatment at the hands of his employer. He had been hired simply because upon first meeting him Matsu had sensed a harder shield around his mind. That wasn’t to say it had been difficult to worm her way in, but any anomaly was worth being studied and learned from. She had wanted the why first, and then how to break him. His mother had been half Epicanthix and passed some of the natural mental immunity to him. Not enough though. Pity. Now he was wiped and rewiped, a tool in her lessons until he was so empty he’d amount to nothing.

She could feel the hunger pouring off Lasedri and sipped, letting it feed her. The Jedi approached the Force as a gift, respecting their ability to wield it. She didn’t feel that here. Echo wanted everything she could get her hands on. (At the bottom of the ladder Matsu tilts her head, blinking with a reptilian fascination as she studies someone debating on climbing down.)

She felt the light touch, but made no move to retaliate as she had the first time Echo had tested her defenses. Only the most skilled of mentalists could make an attempt on her mind, and of those in the Galaxy there were but two. One was dead. And the other was her old Master. Besides, she’d been around the woman sitting in front of her long enough to know Lasedri was no fool, and certainly not stupid. It was just a brush. ‘I can. Don’t think I can’t.’

I doubt you’d like it very much in here, Echo.​

The urge to close her eyes came as soon as she felt Echo trying with what was a far more immediate response than the first time she’d instructed her to do something. She seemed to wrap her thoughts around the more abstract practices with relative ease, feeling around Farrell’s mind until she found weakness. Matsu waited, saying nothing, and was pleased to see her peel back the rot and slip her way in to what most considered their most sacred place.

She spoke to Echo telepathically, joining her link to Farrell’s mind but touching nothing. “Good. He took some work. Those with even more resistance will be weakest when frightened, angry, or in pain. You can use those things to your advantage.

Now, what you do once you’re in is largely up to your motives and the subject. Mental control is most effective when you choose the path of least resistance. Is he afraid? Amplify his fear. Is he wounded? Increase his pain, drive him mad with it. The key is distraction, the kind of distraction that will leave his mind open to you. Once it’s open, you find your thread and you pull. The more you pull, the farther they unravel.”

She paused, letting Lasedri get the feel of walking someone else’s headspace before speaking up again.

"You know how sometimes you take a walk with the intention of getting somewhere, and sometimes you walk just to walk? In here, it’s much the same. You can see what there is to see, or you can get where you want to go. You’ll note his mind is mostly empty. But there is something here. I’ve left the location of our next meeting somewhere. Follow the threads.”

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

He took some work. Gen lost focus as she processed these words. There could be nothing good implied behind such a phrase, and she became quite convinced that this man was not much of a man anymore--not much of anything sentient. It was horrid to imagine what she was 'playing' with now. Lasedri had never considered herself to be the authority on what constituted a person spiritually, but now she wondered if Farrell was cognitive, or justifiably 'alive'. If he was indeed still aware of himself, then his existence must be excruciating. But it was not her place to end his internal immolation--truly, she could not even prove he was in pain.

Now was the time to call quits and scram; leave a torrent of plasma behind if she had to. Why did she stay? The moral stakes had been raised. If she stumbled while browsing his mind, it could very well be detrimental; maybe even deadly. That was not a risk she wanted to take. He may be in there. He may not be. But she was not entitled to this playground.

She thought she could do it, though. Opening her eyes to mere slits to make sure Xiangu had not moved, Geneviève resumed her trial and tip-toed deeper into poor Farrell's head. The woman said something about walking in terms of leisure and purpose. This was no time for leisure. Get in, get out.

With the tiniest manipulations in search of some path through this horrific maze, Gen was able to discern 'hot' trails amidst the jumbled crossways of the man's mind, which she assumed to be Xiangu's threads, comparable to fresh tracks left by a hunter's quarry. Excitingly, this theory had proven to either be correct or a favorable fluke, for she soon came upon a final bastion of sorts that she simply knew contained the 'candy'. Gently prodding about it, a small, soft zone was detectable. Gen poked at it and immediately flashed open her eyes, all breath leaving her body instantaneously. What had she done?

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She followed Gen through Farrell’s mind, giving no sign whether her ‘pupil’ was following the right path. There were dozens of ways to obfuscate one’s path through someone else’s mind so the trail couldn’t be followed but that wasn’t Matsu’s intention here. First Gen had to see the right thing, and then she would be able to recognize anomalies.

Despite the silence, Gen did well and found the soft, vulnerable little bubble where Matsu had hidden the location of their next meeting.

​

Athos IV.​

With the shred of information ripped from his mind, the mind gave a hollow little sigh and expired as Echo’s eyes snapped open. Matsu watched him for a moment, wondering if it wouldn’t be like last time where he stopped breathing for a moment before rattling back to life. It appeared that it wouldn’t be the case however as he remained silent and still, perhaps finally at peace. Matsu grimaced, looking really rather annoyed at him. “Such a shame – the ones with natural resistance are always least equipped to protect themselves once a breach has been made. They don’t know how to fight off an intrusion because they have to far less than the average being. Their strength makes them weak.”

She waited until two women came to remove the body, wheeling the entire chair out, before she spoke up again. (You’re halfway down the ladder. You’ve seen what you can do, even if it was by accident and truly inevitable. Do you keep going? Join me down here. That was easy, wasn’t it?) “Don’t feel too badly – Farrell was…fragile. One too many wipes of his memory.” She settled her hands in her lap again, tapping the back of the natural one with her metal claws. “You have no innate resistance. You must learn to protect yourself, and that will make you stronger than someone like Farrell.”

She paused for just a moment before reaching out and latching herself on to Gen’s mind, crawling spider-like over her synapses before burrowing in.

Stop me, stop me – shield yourself.​

​

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Athos Four was the answer--two words. Gen had penetrated a man's mind just for the name of a location. Were those words worth the life she had just ended? What are you? She was a murderer. Or she was an instrument to a murderer. But Lasedri would be an instrument to no one. She had done this, knowing completely that there was something very unethical about it the entire time, and yet her hunger for some sort of power had propelled her to this conclusion.

It could not possibly be her entire fault, however. It was just a little tap. She may not have been able to save him in any circumstance. Geneviève may have been the killer, but Xiangu murdered him. And so, the leader of the Rebel Alliance could remain apathetic, as all the blame could be attributed to this banshee before her. Needles for eyes, Lasedri glared at the woman across the table.

I have no resistance? She was stubborn; assertive; cunning; rebellious. Of course she could resist. Try me. Unfortunately for Gen, pride was one of her flaws.

An egregious sensation burned through her head as some invisible force began to compress her mind. Gen growled through clenched teeth as she clamped her hands against the sides of her temples, trying to relieve the pressure. But it was not her physical self that was being assaulted--it was transcendental. Her brow wrinkled as eyelids locked shut, and her legs kicked under the table, trying to land a blow to Xiangu's kneecaps in instinctual defense. Every memory needed to be concealed--her family at the dinnertable; her ransom; her followers; her name. Just stop thinking. Think of nothing. But there was someone clawing through the nothing.

Damn you, she whispered to the other's mind. Damn you to the sun, you freak. She proceeded to unleash a rather extensive vocabulary of standard Basic curses and some very specific Chandrilan oaths that one might be surprised hearing from a person of her former status. Perhaps if she scattered the 'signals' with her own messages of ill intent, it would prove too difficult for her 'teacher' to concentrate. Not that she would have withheld her profanities either way.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She could feel that stubborn streak as she peeled back the woman's mind – layers and layers, taking her time, folding each back and looking for anything of interest – and nodded to herself though she had closed her eyes to concentrate on her work. (Even if Echo had the ability to move through the assault on her brain Matsu would read her intention to attack and defend herself. She wasn’t worried about closing her eyes.) A stubborn edge was good, it would keep Echo’s ‘shield’ down. But that anger – freak? freak! oh you wound me – would be her undoing even in the smallest amounts, especially against Sith. “No, distracting me won’t work. Any good mentalist can focus enough to ignore you. Don’t give me anything to work with. You had it – think of nothing.”

The images come like flickers, almost nothing that means something to Matsu until the image of a family flickers by and then – a ransom? She chases that flame, stalking it through Echo’s mind until she realizes the walls are building. Her advice had been taken and performed to great effect. “Good…” Truly, the stubborn streak led to an impressive defense. It would take an excellent practitioner to break through these barriers.

And she’d been far too kind so far.

Echo had her end of the bargain and now it was Matsu’s turn.

Mentalist illusions were one thing – powerful, all-encompassing – but Matsu had opened the door to images created out of sith magic and the difference here was…whatever she created was real until she chose to make it disappear again, or someone was able to see the flaw in her creation.

The better she got, the less obvious the flaw. And she was already quite good, and with the help of Echo – willing or not – she was about to get even better.

At first it sounded like crackling, a half-wet sound like a snake slipping out of its old skin. It seemed to have no source, multiplying and growing louder until spiders – hundreds, HUNDREDS of long-limbed yellow-striped creatures with legs like daggers, bent at hard angles and ready for war, came skittering from underneath the table towards her ‘student’. They swarmed around her seat, collecting in a rorshach mass until they decided to scale her legs, scuttling lightning-fast over her clothes and looking for a way in. Faster and faster they crawled up and over each other, crawling over her arms and finding their way in her sleeves, the ends of their sharp legs ticking over skin as they explored. Confusion and fear had her back in Echo’s mind and she could feel that the sensation was entirely, sickeningly real as a few of the arachnids crawled up out of her shirt along the back of her neck and towards her ears, their forelegs crowding around an entrance they considered with great interest.

But she’d found what she’d wanted.

“Geneviève,” she says softly, finding the name at odds with the hard woman seated across from her and suddenly free from the spiders that had just started crawling inside of her. Base fears like snakes, spiders - they were common, less effective than getting to the root of the person and using the deepest, most frighteningly personal illusion she could conjure. But she didn't want her like Farrell.

At least not yet.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Spiders.

She had been locking the puzzle; learning the cheap trick. And then they swarmed out of nowhere. She knew they were not real, and yet she could not subdue the fear they brought upon her. The filthy spindles for legs; the fat, horrid forms; the retracting mandibles; the all-seeing eyes--they were purely insipid creatures. Her faith in their nonexistence even began to dissipate as soon as one stepped foot on her leggings. At what point can one ignore all their senses and continue to insist that something is not real? Or had Xiangu penetrated that deep into her mind?

Lasedri gasped and desperately swiped at the mass of the disgusting arachnids as they clambered about her body, even into indecent places, and she swore like a sailor and nearly inflicted harm on herself just to rid her ear of the abominations. It's not real. She's done something along these lines before... She tried to convince herself, even as she thrashed about. But her doubts were becoming too much to dismiss. Mind games--she had studied so much on them, philosophically and psychologically, and had been unchallenged in her aptitude with mental manipulation thus far. But this Xiangu destroyed everything, no matter all the knowledge and obstinacy Gen thrived on.

And this Xiangu destroyed her secrets. "Geneviève."

The spiders were gone. Gen had been right. They were an illusion, even if it had tricked her entire body and gashed her own mind. And now the banshee knew her name. "Congrats," she responded, snidely.

Her hand was already in her pocket, fingers clamped around the grip of her pistol in case worse came to worst. She wanted to taunt the woman, but it would only tempt her to possibly do further harm. Geneviève was but a child to this woman in terms of this form of power, and there was little she could do to defy her but with words and bullets. So, as infuriated as she was on the inside, Lasedri withheld her anger. One does not fully test the supreme despot until the proper preparations have been made.

And they both still had some work to do.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Illusion had its weak points if one didn’t learn to exploit them in to strengths. For example, it was clear Gen had some inkling that perhaps what she was feeling wasn’t real, but in this Matsu had learned the secret. What she was capable of wasn’t widely-known, and she never boasted – for all an opponent knew, she’d learned to conjure spiders. Anything was possible with the Force, and perhaps she’d truly learned to commune with arachnids. She shared certain predatory qualities with them after all. But the sith magic had opened entirely new doors to her, things that could cut and stab and kill as easily as she could.

But she is surprised to feel a thrill of her sense of danger when Gen’s fingers curl around the blaster she has concealed. Matsu had not gotten where she was by underestimating another creature merely because they didn’t grasp the Force with the same aptitude she did. Too much confidence was often a trait that led to untimely death and Matsu would be damned if she lost out because she’d been too blind to see someone pulling a gun on her.

She may be capable of ghastly, sinful, inhuman feats of the imagination – but she is human. A bullet could kill her just as easily as a force-user’s attack if she were not cautious.

Considering Gen for a moment she felt a smile crawl up on the corners of her mouth, tilting her head and blinking slowly – a reptile observing a meal – before lifting her hand palm open like asking politely for her firearm. “Let’s see how fast your reflexes are.”

It would be her final favor before truly taking what she’d wanted from Gen when first making the agreement. Her magic itched.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

"Hah. No." As cocky as she could be, Gen was fully aware of how uncertain her abilities were when it came to the Force, and there were two problems with this request. No one trusts people with filed teeth and robotic claws. And if she saw even one spider, she would pull the trigger.

No, she had an advantage now--or at least an illusion of one--and there was no sure defense should this Xiangu attempt with the gun what anyone might assume had they been in a similar situation. Truly, the 'student' was confident that the 'teacher' had no intention of killing her [yet], but disabling was definitely on the plate, especially if she had further 'experiments' to test out. If she expected to be able to simply nail Geneviève into a corner, then she should check her brain. Rising from her seat, Lasedri simpered and removed the gifted AB-1 from her pocket, still pointed at Xiangu.

But there was hesitation; perhaps a seed of greed. She had made it this far, and she wanted the biggest bang for her buck. And so she conceded. Rounding the table to the banshee's right--the side opposite the woman's vicious cybernetic limb--Gen turned the weapon sideways to indicate that she had relented to surrender it, holding the pistol just out of reach so that this insane person would have to shift in her seat in order to obtain it.

Be smart.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She hadn’t expected Gen to relent immediately – she’d already demonstrated a very healthy instinct for self-preservation, something that Matsu sometimes lacked. She wasn’t suicidal by any means; no, she craved life. But that craving often led to a search for experience that put her so deep in harm’s way it was a wonder she escaped without losing more than an arm. But it was for the same reason that Gen’s knee-jerk reaction to say no failed her now: curiosity. Promise.

Matsu didn’t move as her ‘student’ came around the table, gun in hand, just followed with her eyes. She was very aware that the dynamic had been changed slightly with the introduction of the gun but she liked the quickening of her pulse, the fire in her gut as she prepared herself to crush the woman should she try anything. The confrontation never happened though (not yet), and Matsu saw the pistol turned and proffered. She raised her natural hand, the one closest to the weapon, and yanked with a pull of the Force so hard that if Lasedri attempted to hold on it would probably break her fingers. She may have had both a literal and figurative gun to the Sith Lord’s head, but Lasedri wouldn’t retain the upper hand as long as Matsu was still breathing.

She turned in the chair, aiming the blaster at Lasedri’s head – lethal, sure. But also easiest to deflect as Matsu was about to teach, giving Lasedri more of a heads-up than anyone pointing a blaster at her in the future would. “I’m going to shoot you. Imagine whatever you want leaving your hand – wind might be easiest – and push my hand to redirect the shot before I kill you.” (Her brains painted backwards, a snowstorm of bone and red. Two bodies ejected in to space that day, discarded.)

And then she took her shot.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Frak. Not even a little test run before the real thing. Gen was either going to live or going to die--and it was not that time yet. Not if she had anything to say about it.

This was a tremendous test of faith in that uncanny Force she 'had', which she had only been able to understand so far in a mental sense. Was it so simple with the physical realm? She had never tried before. It was far too difficult to completely trust it, especially on first attempt. Gen desired to lunge for the weapon and disarm Xiangu with the techniques she knew worked--with the sense of touch that had been proven throughout a lifetime's worth of experience.

There was hardly time to think, however. Lasedri's hand shot out and her shoulders turned instinctively to dodge. Imagine the wind? What she imagined was more of a giant satellite dish to debilitate Xiangu's arm entirely. There could be no such thing as 'too much' in the preservation of her own life.

But even if she died, she would die knowing it was her own fault.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Matsu didn’t concentrate, didn’t push back against the force-push as hard as she could have – that would lead to shooting the woman square in the forehead, and she still needed her. She could feel potential in Lasedri but it didn’t have that limitless quality those with a full, unfettered connection to the Force displayed. Then again, she could be hiding her full connection…but then she wouldn’t be asking Matsu for help. She’d have that blaster to Matsu’s head, and she would do the Galaxy a favor by blowing her brains out. (That’s it. Go ahead. Wipe the scourge from the Galaxy. Destroy me. I’m everything you hate, I’m everything you’ve sworn to eradicate. And more. Peel back my brain – see what I can do. See what I’m willing to do. E v e r y t h i n g.)

However, despite her untrained abilities the force Matsu felt back was good – a deflection made sweeping and wide instead of the instability most first-time users displayed. She lowered the blaster, took a deep breath of the smell of singed flesh and burnt clothes without a change of expression. She hadn’t made a hole – just grazed. Better than could be hoped for – good thing Matsu was feeling lazy.

But as she put down the blaster, scooting it towards Gen over the table (go ahead, try), she looked at the woman with a predatory interest.

She didn’t say anything as she pushed her way back in to Lasedri’s mind, digging for something…something…and then she found it, the moment they’d destroyed her eye.

The crowd of mercenaries gathered around her again, shoving her in to one of the chairs around the table, screaming at her, so loud and so often and all together so their words ran in to one long angry sentence and they were going to kill her this time they would end her this time they would take BOTH eyes and leave her to rot, dead, tied to a post outside with the holes in her skull and THIS TIME THEY WILL FIND YOU, THE CAMERAS WILL FIND YOU, THEY’LL KNOW WHO YOU ARE, THEY’LL TELEVISE YOUR DEATH, THEY’LL STAND BY WHILE YOU DIE, SAY THEY KNEW IT ALL ALONG – that girl was always rough, she couldn’t be like her parents, couldn’t be a good little girl, tried to stand for something – FODDER FOR THE ENTERTAINENT MACHINE, A MEANINGLESS DEATH. YOU. CHANGED. NOTHING.

Matsu sat in her chair, resting her chin in her steel hand and watching casually for the sinking fear as one of the mercenaries grabbed Lasedri around the throat and started choking her.

The spiders had been fake, a mentalist’s trick.
This was sith magic – very, very real.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

The end result was not a fried brain or even a hollowed bicep, but it was painful nonetheless. "Oh, dammit," Lasedri profaned as she bent over and sucked in air to alleviate the burn. She smelled something--herself. Anger rushed into her eyes, but she could not justifiably do anything--even if she could succeed--since it had been her choice to go through with this little 'game'. What was more, she had been successful by any measure for a first attempt at kinetic manipulation. Of course, that comforted her little.

Sithspit. Oh yes, she had been brilliant. She had allowed for a distraction that had been her own game. She was losing her own game and had let down the gates just for that instant, thinking it was about the blaster. The blaster--it was not about the blaster, but the mind. And, apparently, Xiangu had hit a place in her mind that she wanted no one to know.

They grabbed her (again); pinned her to the chair (again); smacked her (again); taunted her (again). This was why she had learned self-defense. This was why she had strutted around with a kilometer-long scar across her eye. And this was why she was scared.

Lasedri thrashed about, kicking at kneecaps and gauging at faces when she could. When one grabbed her wrist, she managed to snap his. She shifted her weight and rolled the chair about, blood roaring through her ears as adrenaline zipped about her system; air pumping in and out of her lungs like a piston as she panicked. And then the circulation abated and the airway was clogged, a hoarse whinny emanating from her choked windpipe. Someone had caught her when her chin was not down.

What was real anymore? The spiders were fake. The mercs had to be fake. And yet death was becoming very real and not so distant to Gen. She stared into the banshee's cruel eyes and... began to laugh with an excruciatingly grating sound. She felt loopy; drunk. There was not much time. But she laughed as best she could. You forgot something.

The tattoo he has means 'Freedom'.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She could feel Gen’s fear – a beating, breathing, living thing – licking around the edges of her consciousness as she controlled the illusion, feeding the Lord with exactly what fuelled her. While she didn’t exhibit the emotions herself, choosing to remain impenetrable even in her darker moments, the strength of someone else’s turmoil was her lifeblood. The light sensation of the woman’s fighting against the mercenaries lapped against her skin as if she were the one digging her fingers in to the girl’s neck, surviving off the sickness of her fear.

The only way to escape an illusion was to spot the flaw, a difficult thing to be sure in the middle of so much fear and pain – who had a moment to stop and assess the situation when the very life was being choked out of them? But the memory she’d chosen to make the woman relive was highly personal, charged with the kind of emotion she’d never forget. Impressive, nonetheless. A fast learner.

So of course she’d remember something like the tattoo.

Matsu frowned slightly when she heard the voice float across her mind, felt the illusion fading as Gen started worming from its grip. Ah well – it had, after all, been an experiment. Practice for the future, if you will.

Lifting herself from her seat, Matsu’s face turned to stone as she crossed the short distance between herself and the other woman. She was the shorter of the two but it didn’t seem to trouble her as she snapped her cybernetic arm up to wrap her claws around Lasedri’s throat, replacing the illusion.

In the beginning the metal arm had felt unwieldy, a monstrous addition to a body otherwise petite and light. It had taken some discipline to lift and manipulate it as easily as she did her natural one, but once that had been achieved she’d realized that whatever destruction Krius Syonis had attempted all those years ago on Skye was a gift – the durasteel was stronger than she could ever have been and she used a fraction of that strength to lift her ‘student’ from the floor. She remained expressionless even as she felt the woman’s struggle to be free (and imagined, for a moment as she watched Lasedri’s fingers clawing at her durasteel appendage if her nails would hurt were it still a real arm she was tearing against), waiting her out and then squeezing even tighter, tighter, TIGHTER. She felt something snap, a horrible squelching sound that had Lasedri’s throat crumpling unnaturally under Matsu’s grip. (Don’t kill her. She’s more useful to you alive.)

She dropped the woman, squatting down and wrapping her claws around her shoulder – mocking comfort and tilting her head to blink in animal observation. “Go ahead. Leave. Go back to your people. You got what you wanted." (And so did I.)

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]​