Meow
Deep in the darkest realms of Coruscant's underground, those seeking to be lost would find themselves lost, only hunted by those courageous fools seeking to make a name and fortune for themselves; aka bounty hunters. Bounty Hunters, trained without morals and possessed with a envious greed to fill their coffers with credits bound to a loose collection of codes haunted the unmentionables of this planet; and others. Said Bounty Hunters took jobs to grow fame, reputation, glory, and a financial standing in the galaxy. Most hunted Jedi, cause during the peak of the Sith Empire, a Jedi's head or lightsaber fetched a substantial price; and a grand story to spit at shady cantinas and bon fires. To kill a Jedi, they said, was the ultimate bragging rights.
But there were some, one in particular, that hunted Sith. Bounty Hunters found credits in capturing a Force follower, dragged in chains for a bounty. And there was one, as a hobby, hunted Sith to collect a different kind of bounty; heads and lightsabers. This hunter, a Sith Lord whose name was only spoken upon lips of the dead, didn't care about collecting credits; only bodies to study. She hated the Force, for it was the Force she believed in her dark, twisted mind that robbed her of her youth and childhood. Jedi, scum; Sith, scum. But it wasn't these two Religious Orders to blame for her lot in the galaxy, but her parents where to fault. Upon her returning to the known galaxy; she was happily proud to murder them first; and the Jedi and Sith "yes men" next.
And yet, even today as the memory flourished of burying her Mentor surfaced again, she felt a tragic haunting of killing again....
So as she sat in a confined booth inside a dirty, dingy cantina on Coruscant's Lower East Side, she watched her victim portray a crime of swindle. The tall, blonde man with a well kempt beard and scruffy hair hidden beneath a blackened robe sat across a small female Twi'lek; promising her safe passage to Ryloth. She was versed in reading body language, and this man was displaying all the signs of taking this alien to the proverbial cleaners. Reaching her boiling point, she disembarked from her booth; slipping inside the booth next to the Twi'lek.
The blonde man, stirring in disgust, looked at the unwelcomed newcomer. Per the crystals in her twin-sister lightsabers, her presence within the Force was masked, hidden, from those that felt the Force trembles. As the man began to speak, he felt a brief feeling of the Force from the invading woman as she ignited one of her hilts under the table, the hot plasma blade driving deep into him.
"And the story of one Darth Drow has been completed," she said grabbing his shot glass. Turning toward the Twi'lek, raising the glass in a mock toast, she adds, "And in death, shall the potential victim be set free upon a life of untold slavery." Inverting the glass, spilling the liquid across the table she once again spoke, in direction of the Twi'lek, "Tell him I'm coming. No crimes go unpunished."
Gwyneira Vizsla
