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[Darth Strosius]

The Maw Cluster was still far from His first choice of passageway into the Core Worlds, a sentiment that wasn't at all uncommon if He had to guess. It wasn't exactly the most hospitable region of space after all. Only a handful of hyperlanes darting between the few worlds that sat within the scarce pockets of safety could be used consistently and reliably yet such lanes were naturally fairly narrow and limited in scope. Less than ideal to be sure. At present though regardless of how any felt about it, it still served as the main corridor between Sith space and the Core until control over the outer Expansion Region had been solidified.

And where there was a vulnerability, even if it was admittedly a limited one, there was opportunity that could be exploited. At present the only real safe ports within the Maw Cluster were the planets that adorned it yet none of these were particularly ideal for large scale fleet basing or logistical supply hubs. Luckily for the Sith Order, Darth Strosius did have an alternative. A few carefully placed Anchor stations could ease the burden on the Maw's inhabitants and in the case of Gholondreine-β their desolate world was particularly desperate to secure additional docks for the Sith vessels making use of their understaffed and underdeveloped spaceport.

Unfortunately due to said spaceport's underdevelopment and lack of qualified help, the masked man found Himself still stuck within its confines even an hour after His meeting and deal with the planet's governor to supply the much needed stations had concluded. His shuttle was slowly coming up on the list of departures but far too gradually to soothe the annoyance that had rooted deep in Him at the inconvenience of it all. Which had naturally resulted in His current predicament, throwing the poor droid that was announcing the departures across the waiting room in a fit of anger and frustration that had the other denizens peacefully waiting their own turn scrambling away.

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Darth Strosius

It was pure happenstance that found them in the same place, at the same time, in the same moment.

Mercy was feeling suffocated by the new responsibilities of her position.

Triumvir had been a cute role, really. Just a title that allowed her to wage war, while shifting the responsibilities to Arris Windrun and Vestra Tane of actually managing the Covenant in all its complexity. Now that she was Empress of the Core however... she began to feel maybe something of what Srina Talon must feel every single day as Empress of the Sith Order.

So she was sneaking out, which by itself was disgusting, who was she that she needed to sneak out of anything?

An honor guard. Really? An honor guard.

She was on her way back to the Core Worlds after another impromptu vacation. The wait didn't bother her, she was lounging, feet propped up on the arm of the chair next to her, while reading something on her datapad.

Then-

Which had naturally resulted in His current predicament, throwing the poor droid that was announcing the departures across the waiting room in a fit of anger and frustration that had the other denizens peacefully waiting their own turn scrambling away.

Everything was fleeing from the angry Sith Lord.

Mercy just blinked.

"You do realize that now we won't even know when the next departure is, yes?" Only when Strosius turned around did Mercy realize who she was talking to you.

"Ew, it's you."

 

[Darth Strosius]

Darth Strosius seethed a breath between clenched fangs, the frustration starting to subside as He flexed His fingers and rolled His shoulders back. A little outburst that was potentially unwarranted but was quite cathartic indeed. Having to deal with stuffy bureaucrats and minor inconveniences was simply not within His realm of preferences for a decent afternoon. But now the headache that had been threatening to form was blissfully subsiding.

Until it wasn't.

Someone had the gall to actually approach and reprimand Him, as though He hadn't just left a droid-sized dent in the far wall. He almost admired the courage. Almost. Darth Strosius spun on His heel to regard the foolish soul which had just decided to become a problem, only to squint and cock His head at a woman that was somewhat familiar. It wasn't until she spoke again with such disdain that He recalled her presence on Fiviune, and the survival of one Darth Nefaron because of it.

And just like that this day had gone from mediocre to absolutely infuriating. "You?!" He all but hissed the word like one would a curse, His hands clenching into fists before He pointed an accusatory gloved finger towards her. "The next departure will be me getting off of this blasted rock! If you're so concerned, then go ahead and take the droid's spot why don't you? You're just as insipid as it was, no one will know the difference."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Darth Strosius

Eyebrows raised up from the position Mercy was occupying.

Lounging in the chairs that were there for the waiting civilians. She had taken up about five or six of them, just to fit all of the Mountain into one place. Her feet resting on the armrest, her chin lounging on her palm while Mercy took him in.

"Do you need a moment to wipe your inner visor? I assume all that screaming caused some of your spit to get attached to it." She drawled finally before stretching and making a little note on her datapad.

Then Mercy glanced around, rather exaggeratedly.

"Are you here to make another traitor of the Sith get away? I don't think I have seen Nefarion around for what it is worth."

Then her attention shifted back to Strosius.

"Or did you finally piss off the wrong Sith and are you fleeing yourself?" Sweet tone there.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Darth Strosius felt His eye twitch at the rather droll tone that she held, her presentation overall presenting someone who seemed more inconvenienced by this whole affair than anything else. The least that she could do was match His venom with a similarly potent scathing attitude. Anything would be better than what she was doing now, it was simply insulting to not offer a proper rebuttal. An insult which carried on into her next remark which clearly implied her recollection of events differed from His own quite substantially.

"Excuse you?"

At this rate He was somewhat concerned in the back of His mind that His fingers would dig through His gloves and into His palm if His other, non pointing, hand clenched any further. "Nefaron's escape was your blunder! If you hadn't intervened then I would've ripped that ugly wretch apart without issue, and those other two insipid heathens alongside him as well! You had no business interfering."

The masked man scoffed at the idea of retreating from anyone, let along another Sith of all things. "I don't flee, no true Sith does. The only ones that I've 'pissed off' are a bunch of tyrants and despots that claim authority and have proven far too sluggish to do anything themselves." Unlike the powers-that-be of the Sith Order, He actually acted. Just as He took a step towards the reclined woman now. "I was here to handle business and it has since concluded, what are you here for? To ruin something beyond your reach and invitation again?"

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Darth Strosius

It was on purpose.

Mercy often identified early what might annoy or piss someone off. Then she wielded it like a surgical knife, not always, but when she believed someone deserved it.

Such as naming Arris Windrun Princess of Empress Teta. That hadn't been the original plan. Only when Mercy realized she had been pissed with her, did Mercy decide it was a necessary moment of contemplation for them both. Besides, Princess Arris sounded hilarious and nobody would ever convince her otherwise.

"Nefaron's escape was your blunder! If you hadn't intervened then I would've ripped that ugly wretch apart without issue, and those other two insipid heathens alongside him as well! You had no business interfering."

"Stro, Stro, darling..." She purred, eyes flaming up, pure fire in her skull. A mountain in truth. "There is no one to posture here for. I already got your measure. You couldn't take on Nefaron any more than you could take on a pack of soft butter." Mercy drawled lazily, waving at him with heated interest as he approached.

It seemed not to worry her in the slightest.

"I was here to handle business and it has since concluded, what are you here for? To ruin something beyond your reach and invitation again?"

"My reach is endless, sweetheart." Finally shifting to sit down, elbows on her knees, sharp teeth hungry. "I just finished conquering the Core, breaking the Galactic Empire." Mercy murmured warmly. "Now I am taking a little vacation... while you are handling... business..."

In truth however she liked what she heard.

Too many Sith were push-overs or whiny little shits. Well, Stro seemed to enjoy whining a touch too, but nobody was perfect. At least he stood on business.

"What business, pray tell, were you handling... going over financial ledgers?"

 

[Darth Strosius]

While He was repulsed by her sickly sweet words, Darth Strosius found Himself actually recoiling in offence at the implication that He couldn't have handled Nefaron. The gall was palpable and if it were pointed at anyone else then He might respect her for it. At the moment though all it served to do was infuriate Him further. "First of all, I am Darth Strosius to the likes of you. And secondly, you what?!" That one might have actually resulted in some spittle. It was hard to tell from the outside.

"I would have crushed that coward without question! Without any difficulty at all! His horrid skull would be dust after just one squeeze of my hand, I wouldn't even need to use a blade to carve him apart. Once he ran out of his little monstrosities to take up damage for him then he would be nothing!" His "wings" flared, thin wisps stretching into pale tendrils that flowed from His back as He glowered at the sitting woman that dared to mock Him. He had half a mind to demonstrate what He intended to do to Nefaron on her, just to prove a point.

"Oh you battled against the frail little Alliance war hound hm?" He cocked His head to the side as venom seeped into His words. "Did those maddened beasts nip at your heels too much for you to bear? Is that why you're on 'vacation' then? Can't handle a little combat with some Imperial pretenders trumped up on knocking over a failed state? Quite pathetic really." Whether He meant the Coreward Imperials or she herself was unclear.

Probably intentionally so. "The simpletons on this awful planet don't know a ledger from a cargo manifest, evidenced enough by the atrocious state of this spaceport to begin with!" Darth Strosius seethed and reared back, rolling His shoulders as He stood up straight. "You've found good company by coming to a world like this you..." He waved a gloved hand dismissively. "Whoever you are. Everyone here is just like you, sticking their noses where they don't belong and souring my mood in the process. Great vacation choice."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Darth Strosius

Maybe that is when Strosius would realize it.

The moment his wings unfolded Mercy leaned in. Licking her lips, the fires in her skull growing fiercer. Mercy wanted this fight. She hungered for a round two with this Sith. To such an extent that Strosius could almost feel the corruption roiling off of her. This was... unique, in a way. Because the creature that was Mercy had no discernible presence in the Force. You needed to touch flesh to flesh to feel her ability in the Force. A consequence of her specialization. She had internalized her strength to such an extent that it had sunk deeply into her meat.

Yet the hunger was palpable in the air.

"You talk in would's and could's, darling..." Mercy purred, showing sharpened teeth that tore flesh to ribbons. "My little Stro... so confident yet Nefarion still walks. Last I heard he was even making new allies... while all you do is pissing everyone off left and right." The grin grew wider, a touch more manic.

The prospect of battle was stirring the heat in her blood.

It made the air flicker. Behind her shadows rising just a touch, into the imprint of wings, different from Stro's but no less strange. They moved against the backdrop of the scene. As if they lived their own lives and were simply waiting for Mercy's say so.

His insults rolled off of her like water on marble.

That is because Strosius reminded her of herself, ten years back... and if she was honest maybe even five years back. Constantly jerking at the line, yelping and biting at anyone that earned her ire. It was easy to disregard the insults, when Mercy had outgrown that same sort of behavior herself. Especially when she was baiting him so deliciously.

"Whoever you are. Everyone here is just like you, sticking their noses where they don't belong and souring my mood in the process. Great vacation choice."

"I am that which you crave to be. An independent Sith who is feared, whose shadow makes those around them shrink. A Warlord who carves her own path through the Galaxy with no excuse or explanation." She slowly rose, duracrete whining under the sudden pressure of her weight, the arm of her seat crumbling as a shovel-like fist squeezed.

The woman practically unfolded as she rose, growing into the mountain she was.

"Try it... fight me. I promised Madrona A’Mia that I would not break you... but self-defensive is the most delicious of excuses, is it not?"

 

[Darth Strosius]

There was something distinctly off-putting about the woman before Him, something that not even His more unnatural senses could quite determine fully. While Darth Strosius would have simply attributed the discrepancy to His state of mind making His more subtle senses less reliable and certain, in the back of His mind was a growing sentiment that there might be more to be concerned with. Might being the key word of course. There was always the very real possibility that His senses were simply playing tricks on Him as it were.

And if there was cause for some concern it was surely nothing too pressing, He had been on the receiving end of her assault before after all. She hit hard but nothing that the masked man hadn't been able to walk away from. If it came down to it He was willing to bet that she might be more durable than Him in some respects, but He had yet to face an opponent that could take as much damage as He could without withdrawing. Attrition was always an option.

Although in truth each time she spoke He was thinking less of tactical strategy and more along the lines of tearing her head from her shoulders with His bare hands just to prove a point. "Oh he'll need all the help he can get to survive me. All he's doing is gathering my future foes together, easier to put them all down in one fell swoop." Perhaps even in a sort of reflection of Nefaron's own destruction of the Tsis’Kaar, if He could pull off such an event. Something to think on later perhaps.

He scoffed at the woman's bold claim, but her rise did have Him holding His tongue for a brief moment before the vicious words were let loose. "Clearly you're not nearly as 'all-knowing' as you claim. There's no such thing as an 'independent' Sith and you're certainly no Sith of any sort that I've ever heard of." Darth Strosius crossed His arms indignantly, having to look up at her to glare at her properly. "Does that line work on the spineless heretics like Nefaron and Raaf? I'm sure they find you very impressive at their little decadent parties. You must be quite the entertainment there."

Beneath His mask an eyebrow quirked at the mention of the Neti but it narrowed just as quickly. "Oh please, Lady Madrona is a lady of refined tastes." He idly recalled their last stroll through the woods. "Well she has eccentric tastes, but I know she wouldn't associate woth your ilk. And even if she did she is more than aware of my capabilities, if anything she undoubtedly warned you not to cross my path under any circumstances. You'd be wise to heed such a warning."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Darth Strosius

The tension seemed to increase in the atmosphere as the mountain loomed over Strosius. Eyes like caverns with fire in them squinting down, Hatred stirring deep inside of the complex, the air itself twisting ever so slightly as silence forced itself into the atmosphere. The needle would not be overheard, because sound itself was denied entry.

The fury inside of her was palpable, you could almost taste the acrid bitterness on the tongue.

And then as soon as it appeared?

"Oh, you are a sweetheart." Mercy suddenly cooed, purring there. Her proximity was such, that he had been forced to look up at her to continue his glare, which meant... she was incredibly close.

A dangerous prospect and most wise Lords maintained a distance when they were preparing to do battle.

It meant he might have a difficult time with what Mercy did next. All of a sudden she'd reach out to try and grab his cheek through his face plate and shake his head slightly.

She now understood.

The reason why Madrona A’Mia and Lina Ovmar and even Revna Marr seemed to hold him in such regard. It was because... this Sith Lord in front of her... was adorable. It was the first time in ever that Mercy found a man cute, not in a romantic way (yuck, disgusting), but in a way where you wanted to grab him by his cheek and waggle his face around like a newborn babe.

"Aren't you? Aren't you the cutest little angry feral creature?" A soft laugh there. "Heed the warning, that is so adorable..." Now that Mercy's vision had clarified itself on Strosius, she just couldn't unsee it. Later she'd blame Lysander von Ascania for making her soft when it came to men. She still believed most of them were disgusting little pigs that needed to be put down.

But Strosius was a funny little one.

"I will let Lina and A'Mia know that I finally understand why they bother with you." Pleasantly as she let go of his helmet and the face underneath it.

"But don't test me, cute little Strosius." She cooed like a crazy person, eyes hungry, teeth sharp and mouth feral. He'd have the distinct sense that all of this could turn on its axis. And Mercy would have no qualms sinking those teeth into his throat to tear it out and feast on his blood.

"My love for them only allows so much disrespect to pass as charm."

 

[Darth Strosius]

His gloved fingers curled and unfurled as the woman loomed over Him, His hidden gaze narrowed into a vibrant glare meant to oppose the one burning in hers. Yet right as Darth Strosius prepared Himself to respond to her fury in kind she did something rather expected yet unwarranted and immensely frustrating. She had the utter gall to continue her vexing little exercise of teasing as it were, as though she didn't take Him seriously at all. As though she was so confident that He wouldn't strike back.

Which He had fully intended to do, until she suddenly grabbed the cheek of His mask and shook His whole head with the unexpected manuever, sheer shock preventing Him from any instant response aside from a visceral hiss. Trying to wrench out of her grasp with just His head alone soon proved to be a fruitless endeavor which didn't at all bode well for whatever was to come. And sure enough what came next was absolutely abhorrent. She still mocked and belittled Him, earning a low growl that only served to prove the "feral creature" comment to be very apt indeed.

Of course it wasn't as though the masked man really cared, He was too busy gritting His fangs together after all.

Her remark on Lina and A'Mia did briefly give Him a moment of pause, however it did little to temper His growing hatred of the woman looking down at Him. In a sense it almost even made it worse that she seemed to know those He held dear. A concerning fact that Darth Strosius couldn't fully appreciate or be conscious of as His fingers curled into fists once more and His hidden gaze lit with a renewed fury. It wasn't until she punctuated her awful belittlement with a threat of her own that the dam finally broke though.

"'Disrespect' implies that you're worthy of respect in the first place." He inclined His head slightly, reflecting her expression in His dark visor. And then He struck. One gloved fist swung upwards in a sharp rise, seeking to punch her head right off of her shoulders. The other crackled with lightning, letting the arcs loose from where His fingers sat at His hip. He wasn't one to step back or cower, He fully intended to bring her low by the end of this little farce.

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Darth Strosius

His fist slammed into Mercy's face.

It should have left a hole in her skull that would have seen her bleed out to death. But that was maybe when Strosius realized that he had been baited into a fight.

Because instead of meeting flesh and easily fractured skull, it met a mountain. Mercy did not stumble, her head barely moved, and by the end of it she gently flicked his fist away from her face. A face that was unmarred by anything, except for a strange blue hue. "Oh..." Mercy drawled softly as those fiery eyes spotted the lightning starting to cackle from Strosius' other hand.

"I think that counts as assault. Does it not? An attack on my person warranting self-defense..."

She considered that for a moment. Would Madrona A’Mia and Lina Ovmar and Revna Marr see it like that? It was recorded on all footage to see, she had been gentle and kind and only slightly patronizing. Which in her opinion was warranted for any man.

"May they forgive me for what is about to transpire."

Mercy declared- again giving Strosius ample time to either get the fuck out of dodge, or alternatively try and get another swing in.

Then her image blurred. She disappeared entirely out of view, until the full weight and pressure of the Sith Lord would dawn on Strosius... but from behind, somehow.

If he was fast enough to whirl around, it would be her fist, coming down at his visor.

And didn't that fist seem suddenly very large? The speed of it so incredibly fast? And that smile so joyous and pleased with the turn of the events?

Oh, no, Mercy was also cackling like a crazy person.

Now he had done it.

 

[Darth Strosius]

A hissed curse escaped underneath His breath as she simply took the hit, no real reaction or even a reflex as one should have from unexpected physical force. It felt more like He'd hit a wall than a person and He knew all about punching walls, the difference being that they actually had some give in them. Unlike her it seemed. A fact which only served to further ignited the frustration within Him which had already boiled over.

"Oh you think?!" Darth Strosius snarled as He reared back, the lightning in His other hand blooming into a flurry of violet sparks. She still didn't seem to be taking this seriously at all. "Who are you even-oh forget it!" He threw His hand forwards and loosed a surge of lightning. At an empty space where she had been standing quite literally just a moment ago. He hadn't seen her move, His eyes would have easily tracked any motion, and yet she had seemingly just vanished.

His senses pricked behind Him at a presence, giving just enough time to whip His head around to see the fist coming towards Him. There was an attempt to step forward and away from the blow but all that movement succeeded in doing was changing the angle of the impact, her fist landing more towards the side of His head rather than the center of it. Which resulted in Him being rather unceremoniously thrown across the room and through several rows of seating until He hit the far wall that the poor droid was still sat smashed against.

Darth Strosius tasted a heavy metallic flavor in His mouth, quickly running a tongue over His fangs to discover that one of them was missing. Given its lack of rattling around in His mouth He could only assume that He'd swallowed it at some point. Upon that realization He let out a seething breath and rose to His feet, hands digging into the scrapped remains of seating around His path of destruction as He pulled Himself up.

The left side of His mask was somewhat dented, the visor featuring a spiderweb of cracks that almost ran fully across from the left side to the right. And through the cracks, as His fingers made the chair He was grasping groan with dents and pressure, a flash of brilliant gold could be seen where His eye would be behind it. "I'M GOING TO SMEAR YOU ACROSS THE WALLS!" His pale "wings" flared as He hefted up a row of mostly destroyed seating and lobbed it her way like a javelin, several other bits of scrap rising into the air and following after it in a storm of projectiles.

Mercy