Sarge Potteiger
Emotional Damage
Corellia
456 ABY
Moonlight coated the streets of the quaint mountain village, the old wooden facades of the luxurious cabins soaking gently in the soft illuminating gaze of the body hanging heavy in the sky above. A clear sky and a full moon meant that it was almost like daylight out, at least for those willing to venture out at this undignified. 1100, exactly.
For the majority of the timezone, it had been bedtime within the last two hours, especially for the residents of this particular dot on a map. These cabins were retreats, places the wealthy businessmen of Coronet could go whenever they needed to escape.
Business bred hefty sums of money, but also hefty sums of stress. Families had come and gone today, content to go for goods at the shopping center a klick away. Some had sought the tranquility of the forests surrounding the idyllic community. The gentle slopes of the great peaks surrounding them rose towards the midnight sky, white capes all but glistening as crystals of snow caught the pooling moonlight and reflected it on its way.
The only issue was the cold. By the stars was it cold. Nestled in a rock outcropping halfway up a slope was a white coated figure, nearby brush laced into old burlap to help break up his outline amid the jagged edges of stone. Exhaling a mist of breath, he blinks away the sleep encroaching on his vision and nestles his cheek against the stock of his rifle.
537 yards.
That was the distance from here to the bathroom window. The home he was monitoring sat halfway down the one road of the 'town,' left side. It was the only two story home on that side of the road, if you didn't count the garages that made up the ground levels of the home.
Many of them had a peculiar design he'd not quite seen outside of the Northeastern reaches of Corellia's main continent. The cabins ground floor was actually part speeder garage, with the other half usually handed over to the basement and laundry areas. The main floor was actually the second floor, with the third usually housing the bedrooms.
So, perhaps, on second thought....
Pulling himself away from the frigid metal of his rifle, he pulled back his left sleeve, exposing his skin to the winters bite. There, beneath a small plastic covering sat his orders.
Second floor. 1137. He takes his calls in the bathroom.
He'd been given a bracket of days to be prepared for, but when he'd arrived the piece of flimsi had been tucked beneath a rock. The boss knew exactly the spot he'd pick. But was the second floor the third...? There was no other bathroom he could see, so he didn't know why he was worrying.
That realization had made him snort.
So for each of the past three nights, he'd sat and waited, biding his time.
Maybe he'd get lucky tonight.
Like he'd gotten so lucky on that night on Illum so many years ago. Closing his eyes, he could practically taste the crystals from the caves on his tongue, their presence making the sharp air he'd breathed in almost grainy in texture. He could still hear her distinctive Cheunh burr, despite her Zeltronian heritage.
It had already been adjusted, and as with everything else about this moment in time, he need only wait. Wait for a woman who would never return.
His eyes felt suddenly heavy, closing as he went limp in his bolthole.
And they'd danced. Danced until an earthquake had shattered the peace of their quiet retreat. Well, he'd still had some peace - she'd shoved him into an alcove to try and keep them from getting crushed and rammed his head off the wall of ice.
Lifting his left hand, he dug it down into his collar, pulling out the small, faintly glowing green crystal he'd been given that day.
Opening his eyes, not wanting to be tormented by visions of the past any longer, he composed himself with steadying breaths. Biting his lip, he checked his chrono. 1135.
Who this was going to be didn't matter, not anymore. 5 pounds of pressure and a searing bolt of light would end whoever was at the other end. There were nights, not unlike tonight, where he sincerely hoped someone may do the same to him.
Anything to shut up the voice in his head.
Settling into his shooting position, bipod locked against the rocks ahead of him, finger caressing the trigger perfectly, he closed his eyes and made sure that as he opened them and exhaled the scope fell naturally across where the target should be.
The bathroom door opened, letting light in from the hallway. A distinctly masculine figure stepped in and closed the door behind him, hand raising to flick the light switch above the sink. Inhaling deeply again, he watched as the man paused to get a look at himself in the mirror.
It was hard to tell at this distance what in the hell he looked like, but it was a he and it was the time. That was all that mattered. Time and place.
Just like love.
Inhale. Close eyes. Exhale.
Open.
But just as he began putting pressure on the trigger, he caught sight of pink skin and brown hair, and his breath hitched in his throat. Please not now...
His past was back. The fifth time this month. Her head rose, lips moving as she spoke, and her head turned towards the window, moving over to take a good look outside. She was looking right at him, it seemed.
He fought back the pressure pushing up his cheeks and towards his eyes, biting it back as he let his scope settle on the first woman he'd ever loved. He couldn't fail the shot.
Orders were orders.
Taking in one last shaky breath, he began pulling the trigger once more. And just as had happened all those years ago, he fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her.
And as she took in the winters eve, she began to smile... because she knew.
She knew he was out there.
Everything will be alright.
He squeezed the trigger. Her chest - his chest, despite what his mind said - went from finely clothed to a charred mess, her mouth open in shock. And as she fell back, she began to fade, the man's stunned expression appeared just as she disappeared from view and hit the floor with what was likely a thud.
And as he lay there on the mountainside, snow beginning to drift down around him... he began to weep.
456 ABY
Moonlight coated the streets of the quaint mountain village, the old wooden facades of the luxurious cabins soaking gently in the soft illuminating gaze of the body hanging heavy in the sky above. A clear sky and a full moon meant that it was almost like daylight out, at least for those willing to venture out at this undignified. 1100, exactly.
For the majority of the timezone, it had been bedtime within the last two hours, especially for the residents of this particular dot on a map. These cabins were retreats, places the wealthy businessmen of Coronet could go whenever they needed to escape.
Business bred hefty sums of money, but also hefty sums of stress. Families had come and gone today, content to go for goods at the shopping center a klick away. Some had sought the tranquility of the forests surrounding the idyllic community. The gentle slopes of the great peaks surrounding them rose towards the midnight sky, white capes all but glistening as crystals of snow caught the pooling moonlight and reflected it on its way.
The only issue was the cold. By the stars was it cold. Nestled in a rock outcropping halfway up a slope was a white coated figure, nearby brush laced into old burlap to help break up his outline amid the jagged edges of stone. Exhaling a mist of breath, he blinks away the sleep encroaching on his vision and nestles his cheek against the stock of his rifle.
537 yards.
That was the distance from here to the bathroom window. The home he was monitoring sat halfway down the one road of the 'town,' left side. It was the only two story home on that side of the road, if you didn't count the garages that made up the ground levels of the home.
Many of them had a peculiar design he'd not quite seen outside of the Northeastern reaches of Corellia's main continent. The cabins ground floor was actually part speeder garage, with the other half usually handed over to the basement and laundry areas. The main floor was actually the second floor, with the third usually housing the bedrooms.
So, perhaps, on second thought....
Pulling himself away from the frigid metal of his rifle, he pulled back his left sleeve, exposing his skin to the winters bite. There, beneath a small plastic covering sat his orders.
Second floor. 1137. He takes his calls in the bathroom.
He'd been given a bracket of days to be prepared for, but when he'd arrived the piece of flimsi had been tucked beneath a rock. The boss knew exactly the spot he'd pick. But was the second floor the third...? There was no other bathroom he could see, so he didn't know why he was worrying.
That realization had made him snort.
So for each of the past three nights, he'd sat and waited, biding his time.
Maybe he'd get lucky tonight.
Like he'd gotten so lucky on that night on Illum so many years ago. Closing his eyes, he could practically taste the crystals from the caves on his tongue, their presence making the sharp air he'd breathed in almost grainy in texture. He could still hear her distinctive Cheunh burr, despite her Zeltronian heritage.
"You look quite handsome, sergeant,"
Oh, but the Captain had been something else that night.
Taking in a shuddering breath, he slid his sleeve back down, not wanting to leave himself exposed for too long. His mind need shut up. Tucking himself back into his shooting position, he settled his cheek back against the stock and closed his left eye as the right sighted down the scope.It had already been adjusted, and as with everything else about this moment in time, he need only wait. Wait for a woman who would never return.
His eyes felt suddenly heavy, closing as he went limp in his bolthole.
"I'd wanted to dance tonight, Abbi..."
And they'd danced. Danced until an earthquake had shattered the peace of their quiet retreat. Well, he'd still had some peace - she'd shoved him into an alcove to try and keep them from getting crushed and rammed his head off the wall of ice.
Lifting his left hand, he dug it down into his collar, pulling out the small, faintly glowing green crystal he'd been given that day.
Opening his eyes, not wanting to be tormented by visions of the past any longer, he composed himself with steadying breaths. Biting his lip, he checked his chrono. 1135.
Who this was going to be didn't matter, not anymore. 5 pounds of pressure and a searing bolt of light would end whoever was at the other end. There were nights, not unlike tonight, where he sincerely hoped someone may do the same to him.
Anything to shut up the voice in his head.
Settling into his shooting position, bipod locked against the rocks ahead of him, finger caressing the trigger perfectly, he closed his eyes and made sure that as he opened them and exhaled the scope fell naturally across where the target should be.
The bathroom door opened, letting light in from the hallway. A distinctly masculine figure stepped in and closed the door behind him, hand raising to flick the light switch above the sink. Inhaling deeply again, he watched as the man paused to get a look at himself in the mirror.
It was hard to tell at this distance what in the hell he looked like, but it was a he and it was the time. That was all that mattered. Time and place.
Just like love.
And if that's just a dance, proximity and chance... what does that make what I'm doing right now? I wish I could skip this masquerade, sometimes.
Closing his eyes, he let the breath go, waiting until the last vestiges of air had left his lungs before allowing his lids to raise. And there was the target, staring out the window, communicator in hand. One last check before the shot.Inhale. Close eyes. Exhale.
Open.
But just as he began putting pressure on the trigger, he caught sight of pink skin and brown hair, and his breath hitched in his throat. Please not now...
His past was back. The fifth time this month. Her head rose, lips moving as she spoke, and her head turned towards the window, moving over to take a good look outside. She was looking right at him, it seemed.
He fought back the pressure pushing up his cheeks and towards his eyes, biting it back as he let his scope settle on the first woman he'd ever loved. He couldn't fail the shot.
Orders were orders.
Taking in one last shaky breath, he began pulling the trigger once more. And just as had happened all those years ago, he fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her.
And as she took in the winters eve, she began to smile... because she knew.
She knew he was out there.
Everything will be alright.
He squeezed the trigger. Her chest - his chest, despite what his mind said - went from finely clothed to a charred mess, her mouth open in shock. And as she fell back, she began to fade, the man's stunned expression appeared just as she disappeared from view and hit the floor with what was likely a thud.
And as he lay there on the mountainside, snow beginning to drift down around him... he began to weep.