Black Lines to Battlefields

[Keira Priest]

Essien​

Atin'yaim​

​

Although the clones had only been with the Mandalorian Empire for roughly a week or so, nothing about their training regimen had changed in the time they had been separated from their commander. If anything it had just become more rigorous, but Keira was still able to keep pace, even without the Force. There was no doubt that she was out of practice when it came to the more formal military lifestyle, though she had readjusted quickly, once again finding that same discipline within herself. But she hadn't returned to holding herself as their commanding officer, because she didn't quite feel worthy of holding that title again, nor did they do anything within their own power to grant it. She was back to proving herself to them just as she had done in the beginning, and it would be a long road towards regaining their trust.

Still, she felt that returning to regular drilling each morning had at least helped put up some facade of normalcy, and she could tell that at the very least a few of them were starting to warm up to her presence again. And some part of her hated that. They had no reason at all to even attempt to forgive her, or act kindly in the least, and she didn't want them to. Had they traded places she wouldn't have let anything go, though her ability to hold a grudge was otherworldly in its own right. She didn't want them to absolve this, because they shouldn't have, and they didn't need to. At the same time she was thankful for that fact, cautiously allowing herself to once more meld with the family they had created among themselves from day one. Maybe things would eventually return to normal, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, she would be satisfied.

Reaching up with one hand she pulled off her helmet, though Thalia continued speaking despite this, projecting her voice from the audio system, "...so hard on yourself. Give it time." She ran a hand through hair damp with sweat, not pausing once as she strode into her rather plain quarters, door sealing shut behind her. The helmet was placed on the table, and she began to methodically strip off her armor, arranging it carefully to be put away later. "And why shouldn't I be?" Finally she deigned to reply, pulling on a loose-fitting pair of ripped and worn jeans and a similarly fitting sleeveless shirt, adjusting the straps of her sports bra. "I don't deserve their forgiveness after what I did. Abandonment isn't something you exactly brush off, Thalia. Especially not when it comes to family." That seemed to silence the AI, at least for the moment.

She took the time to reapply deodorant and splash her face with cold water before leaving her room behind, miniature holprojector strapped to her left wrist and earpiece in her ear so she and Thalia were still able to communicate much the same, sans the convenience of an HUD. Her combat boots hit the floor at a measured, vaguely militaristic clip, and she made headway for the mess hall. The only form of nourishment she allotted herself for the time being was a bottle of water, and after taking a long drink she set it down on the table in front of her, Thalia finally manifesting from the projector, her voice projecting through it as well. "Perhaps you have a point. Time may not heal all wounds, but it can make them easier to deal with." "Like I didn't know that already."

[member="Marcus Itera"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

Formal military lifestyle was a thing of the past. As the years pressed on, it had taken quite a toll on Marcus. Between being Vongformed, given cybernetics for enhancement or to replace body parts grievously injured, and a strenuous daily life had its effects. Surely these things sustained him and made him greater than any other soldier for hire on the market but it was absolutely no way to live a life just spending your hard earned money on gear, dry rations, and all of that other military-grade stuff. Bland and ineffective had become a thing of the past.

Nowadays, Marcus Itera let a good life. Between working jobs, he lived on a modified yacht. Sleep in whenever he wanted to, a droid steward to tend to his every whim, and a few other droids that really just made life that much easier for him. So he spent his down time either improving his already high physical abilities or overseeing operations and watching clients just let the money roll right into his bank about. It was nice, relaxing, and for once in the past decade he was fairly content with himself.

Being summoned back to Atin'yaim had been a harsh wake up call. Old comrades had enlisted his help in constructing their new empire and so he happily obliged in exchange for a fat paycheck. It wasn't personal, it was just compensation for all of those times he'd bled on some godforsaken world because politicians weren't happy, or space wizards were angry at each other. They'd stripped him of everything he had ever owned and much more than he could fathom, so he needed some down time and an easy life. For now, at least.

Strolling through the old mountain fortress clad in his gleaming black armor caught a few glances. Most Mando'ade here were adorned in traditional armor or garbed themselves in simple, utilitarian tunics and trousers - but letting them see his face wasn't the name of the game. That was how detachment worked. And besides, what vod in their right mind wanted to talk to some faceless mook with strange, chameleon-like armor?

"You literally haven't said a word since we've been here."

Marcus clicked his tongue to mute his annunciator. "I don't have anything to say to them."

"That's boring," Miranda frowned, cocking her head to the side. "Something wrong?"

Marcus sighed. "No, and I honestly don't even know why I'm here. That Verd fellow said something about getting myself accustomed with the layout of the place and maybe meeting a few new people, but I highly doubt there'll be any of that happening today."

"Suit yourself - and speaking of aimlessly walking around and being boring, do you mind if I download and install one of those new Hologames?" Her face transformed into a visage of childish delight. "Pretty please?"

"That's fine. Just don't mess with the rest of my stuff, and please try not to buy anything too expensive."

"No promises."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

When an aura that encompassed no more than a void infringed on her senses, Keira instantly became much more alert and aware of her surroundings, relaxing slightly when she came to the realization that no threat would have gotten through so easily, and the alarm would have been raised already if that was the case. Still, it was enough for Thalia to notice and raise a holographic brow, arms crossed. "You feel something. What is it?" A good question. "Somebody new. Force dead, which is the only reason I really noticed. Our Mand'alor must be busy recruiting." "Or they're just another gun for hire." "Either way, something better to do than waiting around for something interesting to happen. What do you say we go see who it is?" "You wouldn't listen to my advice anyway."

At that she couldn't help but flash a smile. "If I listened to you all the time, nothing would get done around here." "You might experience less near-death scenarios." "And where's the fun in that?" Once she shifted position the hologram of the AI dissipated, only manifesting as a voice in her ear once again. She finished the rest of the water before tossing it away in a nearby bin, standing and stretching, her back popping audibly as she did so. "You're getting old." "And you're getting annoying, so I guess we're even." She smiled even as she said it, and Thalia's laugh tinkled through the earpiece. On the battlefield both were more or less deadly serious, so it was nice to get a chance to simply exist like this, as something akin to two old friends.

She found herself walking the halls once more, this time following her sixth senses rather than her own whim, thus making her a touch more calculated in her movements. After a few minutes the one responsible came into sight, and she studied his armored figure for a moment. "Doesn't look Mandalorian." This time she didn't deign to respond, letting Thalia ramble on as she pleased, silent to the outside world. "Probably is just a mercenary. Since when has Isley started hiring on outsiders?" He hadn't, to her knowledge, but there was a lot she didn't know about her adoptive brother as it stood. One more unknown didn't mean much, in the grand scheme of things, and she didn't concern herself with it.

In the span of a few seconds she walked beside him as if that was the most natural place for her to be, keeping pace at his right side. "You can drop the strong and silent type act, because everybody else here has tried to play it before at some point, and it never really works. Besides, half of us here can see through it anyway, including me." One shoulder lifted in a shrug, and she glanced to him, holding a steady gaze with the visor of his helmet for a few moments. "Name's Keira Ticon, by the way. Or Verd, depending on who you're asking." And that was that.

[member="Marcus Itera"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

The more he walked around and the more he saw friendly faces busily chatting away with each other, the more lonely he felt. It was a strange feeling, growing deep within the bottom of his gut, akin to the anxiousness of the battlefield and the sadness of memories long past. He didn't really notice it most of the time, but he knew he'd become an antonym of his past self in the past ten years. It was sorrowful, yes, but he made do with what he had and did his best to keep living despite that. It was your typical sob-story background that the galaxy knew all too well - but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Miranda was always there. She had been there since day one, back when he was but a young marine and had been specially chosen to test the Republic's new AI program. Little did Marcus know that he had also been selected for the Dreadguard Project, a long and arduous process that would hopefully turn some average soldiers into heroes for the Republic. The Republic knew what happened to him, they knew he was unstable and gave him Miranda as a little motivation. She was his saving grace, one of his very few reasons for living.

She was everything he had. Julia and Jessica all wrapped up into one, light-blue avatar.

"Get your head out of the clouds, someone's approaching."

Thank the Gods for motion sensors; and an extra pair of eyes. Miranda was already pulling up her dossier. Her full name hovered about her, physical attributes floated in neat little lists; height, weight, hair color, eye color, and even her homeworld. So nice of the Mandalorian Empire to allow one of their newest hands access to their files - nothing too sensitive, however. She had a nice looking lightsaber too.

Marcus eyed her up and down as she gave him a rather unusual greeting. Marcus was half-tempted to just ignore her and keep walking along, playing that 'strong and silent' label she had so hastily placed upon him. It took a full second for him to formulate the proper words, and enough saliva, to respond.

"Strong and silent?" He arched an amused brow. "Glad to know people assume I'm strong and not too chatty. Name's Marcus."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

"You're not vode." Not an accusatory statement, but rather a factual one. He didn't hold himself like one of them, didn't speak the same, and the vague uneasiness about him spoke of an unfamiliarity with his surroundings that the others here didn't retain. Sure, she might not have been able to sense his presence in order to discern just who he was, but her observation skills were far from out of practice. She was still a soldier, and so they couldn't be. Silence remained for the next few seconds as they continued walking, now something of a pair instead of two lone wolves.

Finally she posed another question, "Did my brother hire you on, then? Mand'alor?" A beat passed. "And so you know, I'm not of a mind to assume anything. Assumptions get you killed. I'll wait until I've seen how you fight. But I don't doubt my brother wouldn't have hired you without a damn good reason." Keira had noted his appraisal of her, but offered no commentary. "I like him." Of course Thalia would. Nothing less had been expected. "He has an AI too, you know." No, she hadn't known, nor did she see why it mattered. But Thalia tended to have her own method of going about things.

"You can lose the buyce. You don't need it here. We're all friends, right? Or something close enough." That word hadn't long been in her vocabulary, and never had she applied it to a stranger, but there was a time for everything. "He used to be Republic, too. I found the file drawn up in the database. Not much, but it looks like your brother likes his record-keeping to some degree." In that instant she became acutely aware of the matte black, scuffed and worn Republic dogtags hanging around her neck, though she made no move to draw any attention to them as it stood. He would notice if he was observant enough, otherwise she would leave that part of her past unmentioned.

[member="Marcus Itera"]