Public Arsonist's Lullabye (Character Introduction)

[McGill]

Somewhere deep in Coruscant's underbelly...

McGill approached what looked like an abandoned building, stepping over piles of scattered trash and debris. Metal gleamed as he impatiently darted the lighter in his right hand between his fingers. The air smelled foul, reeking of garbage and urban decay. He supposed there were better places in this town to raze, but he didn't know where they were or how to reach them.

Still riding the high of his escape, he was eager to celebrate his newfound freedom. Other inmates that had made it out of the asylum had run off to indulge in their own personal fancies. For McGill, it was a pleasure to burn.

From his left hand there dangled a jug. He unscrewed the cap, and the fetid atmosphere was instantly sweetened by the scent of flammable fuel. The liquid sloshed as he spread it around the premises, the fumes instantly recognizable to anyone within sniffing distance. Sure enough, a few squatters fled, shadowy silhouettes running in the twilight.

The jug emptied, McGill tossed it aside and stepped back. He held the lighter in his hands, taking a deep breath and biting his lip in anticipation before he flicked the switch.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. And again. After the third flick resulted in no flame, he uttered a string of curses in his native tongue. It was working when he stole it! But of course the lighter he lifted from that shady looking mart down the street didn't work when he needed it to...

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy didn't come up to the shanty part of the Reef just to hang out and breathe air fresher than that mineralized by the industry below as often as the other Sithspawn did. After all, she had the Temple for that, and the air was really clear up there. It made her feel a little guilty. If only she could capture and transport the overworld's special mix of oxygen.

She lit a cigarra with a flick of white Lightning between her middle finger and thumb, and took a long drag. Big amphibian lungs. A sigh followed along after blown out smoke, first entirely relaxed and then constricted by curiosity. A raggedly-dressed woman was running down the road perpendicular to the hideout's turn off. As she took the turn, Damsy meandered out from under the makeshift structures into the road herself.

"'Ey," she began, voice not particularly hard but enough the start the woman. In her desperate haste to flee whatever she was, she must have wither forgotten or forewent the whispered warnings of what all lived in this part of the terrace.

"No, wait..." Damsy threw up her hands, her cigrarra to the duracrete floor, and stepped it out, all as the woman's countenance continued to molt. "I mean no harm, cross my heart."

"L-let go of me, foul creature," the woman, now standing bolt still, demanded sheepishly.

"That's flight or fight; that ain't me." Well, technically freeze, but still. Not Damsy. If she was immobilizing the woman, the latter would know it, but Damsy knew better to say so. Sometimes the naked truth was even scarier than a slightly dressed up version. Simple was almost always better. The Shifter didn't put down her arms, but inclined one the way the woman had come. "I just want to know what's happening over there."



**
McGill

 

[McGill]

He kept trying to light the fuel, but it was no use. The lighter was a dud. Flinging it away in frustration, he looked around searchingly, then started to walk down the street—or rather, up. Maybe breathing cleaner air would help to clear his head…

The street rose at a steady incline, as though constructed on a hill. McGill’s gaze flicked from dingy shop windows, to doorways, to faces. The glowing embers of a cigarra caught his eye.

“‘Scuse me,” he called out, approaching the smoker. “Got a light?”

It was dark enough that she might not notice the filthy and torn striped uniform he wore. But the twilight wouldn't cloak the smell of fuel that clung to his clothes.

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy squinted at the man as if the closer her eyelids got to each other rose the likelihood of spontaneously recognizing him. Of course it didn't, but she did miss the woman's exit until it was too late. She was too far away now. Just as well, maybe. What would have Damsy done anyhow? Physically restrained her to the spot? Nah, that wasn't her style either.

"I am the light," she replied with no verbal inflection insinuating anything but practicality. Otherwise, she didn't really look like a zealot of the religious kind—but just maybe of a different one.

A purebred human might have not noticed his attire, but Damsy's predatory senses cut through the twilight. And sussed the slightly sweet tangs of fuel from every thread until the scent was almost overpowering. "But I wasn't born yesterday, my man." She didn't want to reach out and touch his mind, see just what he planned to do with a spark or two, but didn't have to; logic got her close enough to any master plan he might have. Plus, the experience of underlevel dwelling for as long as she had been. She had met an arsonist or two already...



**
McGill

 

[McGill]

McGill did not look impressed. “So… what, do you shoot flames out of your fingertips? Neat.”

He didn’t assume she was a Force User. There were millions of species in the galaxy, and who knew—maybe there were some that could make fire from seemingly nothing. Not a bad power to have, in his opinion. But it did mean this wouldn’t be as simple as mugging her for a lighter or matches.

“Alright,” he muttered, reaching one hand behind him. “Fine. Would this convince you to lend a hand?”

His hand faced forward again, now pointing a blaster at her.

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Was this guy, like, serious?

Damsy's eyes flicked up from blaster barrel back up to face. "No, not really," she said, taking her turn to be unimpressed. She rose one of the hands that had slowly drifted back down to her side and, with a wriggle of the fingers, gave an invisible tug at the weapon. Aiming to disarm seemed the best play; she had reflexes for days but didn't know if she would be able to go for her trident in time...

Actually—

—erm, electricity—

—yeah, better to not in any case.



**
McGill

 

[McGill]

Give the man some credit. It’s not every day the first random bystander on the street you accost turns out to be a sorceress.

The blaster flew out of McGill’s grip, leaving him staring wide-eyed at his empty hand. For a moment, at least.

His hand closed into a fist as he aimed a hard, fast punch at her nose. He wasn't an FU himself, but he was a Shi'ido, and that meant superhuman strength and speed were at his disposal. He hoped it would make up for his shortcomings in the whole not-having-magic-powers department, or else this was going to be a very short fight.

Did I say fight? I meant flight. The punch was a distraction while he took off running through a dark alleyway.

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

And what half Damsy lacked in Shi'ido blood, she made up for in the echoes of Alchemy.

Well, normally. Now now. Now, she took the crack to her nose and stumbled back. Just managing to keep herself upright, she watched the man retreat. Then, she looked back underneath one of the Reef's shanty awnings.

Back in the direction the would-be arsonist had fled. Goddamn it, she thought before taking off into the alley.

Sometimes being a Jedi sucked.



**
McGill

 

[McGill]

The lady gave chase. McGill kept his legs pumping, bounding down the alley and turning a sharp corner.

It got darker as the buildings on either side of him got taller. His eyes changed to match the low lighting. He sorely doubted the dimness would slow her down.

So put plenty of distance and obstacles between you and her. He climbed over a fence, up a fire escape stairwell, shimmied across a gutter, and eventually made his way to a roof. He ran across it, only to come to a skidding stop at the edge.

What the hell am I doing? I don’t have wings anymore!

He spun, looking for a way down. The delay cost him precious seconds before he located another gutter and slid down on the other side of the building…

Damsy Callat​