Riot Dog
THRONEWORLD
90X ABY
OBJECTIVE: MISCHIEF
90X ABY
OBJECTIVE: MISCHIEF
Dull, red eyes drifted across the gilded halls of the Throneworld. They took in the gaudy so-expensive-it's-cheap-ness of it all, all the trophies and spoils of war and all the mismatched aesthetics smashed together into one gigantic, tacky monument to
Mercy
.Veyla Tass tried her best not to scowl. After all the work her crew'd done to get her up here, it'd be embarrassing if she got spaced for not looking impressed enough. Beneath the oversized sleeves of her workwear, she thumbed the splice that Rax had given her. Its specific purpose escaped her, but then, her job was to stick it in a terminal somewhere and then get out with it again. She tried not to let the unknown bother her.
Tried, but failed. She broke away from the crowd of menials she'd trailed with for a time, headed towards a maintenance hatch that caught her eye. And, as she descended into the darkness, she thought; the hell are we getting out of this?
Could they pull in a profit, if they got the right info? Was Rax thinking about credits? A racket big enough to swallow the whole Core wouldn't notice a few million going missing every year, and if they could be patient -
She ducked her head to avoid a loose-hanging wire, only just able to make out the sparks jumping from it underneath the oily black smudges in her vision.
No, there wasn't any ambition in embezzling, not even in the seven digits. And to pitch Vey a plan as dicey as this, Rax must've been feeling pretty damn ambitious.
This continued for some time. Her crew could sift for military intel, maybe? But what would they even do with that, feed it to the Republic? Ugh. As much as she wanted to burn Mercy, she wasn't a snitch, and neither were any of her crew.
In the blackness beneath Throneworld's halls, the Sith relied more on instinct than sight to navigate. The darkness was comfortable, though. It reminded her of...Force, seven, eight years ago, when she was barely four feet tall, snooping around the guts of her neighborhood's water treatment plant.
After some length of time wandering the tunnels and bickering with herself, her hands brushed the rusty metal of a ladder rung, which she grasped idly. Then, in the low light she made out a handful of aurebesh symbols engraved on a cold, slate-gray placard near her face. She still struggled with Basic, but she could read, at least, the top two words:
Library Access.
Vey clicked her tongue, and rolled up her left sleeve, then bit down on the flesh of her wrist until blood stained her teeth.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
She lifted herself up onto the ladder, and started climbing.
