Death Leads to Coruscant [Open - OS]

[Hazel Scheler]

Welcome to death.

A place where everyone finishes last, no matter their creed, color, or code.

A realm where your best defense is a strong pretense,

and your faith is just about all you can count on.

​

"The feth is wrong with you, mutt? I don't like this anymore than you do."​

A place where one path is sought out above all else.

Old Panathan legends told of a walk through purgatory when one breathed their final breaths. A return home, to a place of familiarity and safety. A place where all your deceased friends and loved ones waited for you if you died in honor. She'd seen them all - every face that had slowly been taken from her over the years. Every face except one.

"He's not there. He's still not there, and you are not going to stop me from getting back..."​

​

Three times now, she could remember with waning clarity, standing before her home, gazing up at all those faces. Three times now, she'd turned her back on them and walked away, denied herself that final peace.

"Do you know how hard it is to keep leaving them?!"​

​

"400 years!"​

400 years. That's how long they've waited for her. A few more wouldn't matter. Not until she knew for sure.

​

Somewhere in the darkness of her memories, she could still hear his voice.​

By twist of fate, she'd been given one more chance to learn the truth. Despite the chaos of the galaxy and all the powers that had come into play, one simple, lone Merc was allowed a solid whisper of knowledge where none other had been offered.

"The man you seek is not here."

"Where is he, then? Tell me, I must know."

"I will tell you, but for a price..."​

Her luck was about to change.

​

"Anything, I beg you, please tell me if you know..."​

Desperation had never been her game, but these were desperate times.

"Half of your remaining fated days."​

​

"Half of my...of the rest of my life?"​

Spectres were no better than Forcers, but who was left to trust? No one. There was no one left to trust. And time? She'd slept in stasis for over three centuries, how long did she really have left to live anyway? If she could find him, it didn't really matter. Any time ... any time at all, that was all she asked for.

​

"...take them, they're yours."​

The knowledge came with a foggy sensation of drowning.

Do you know what it feels like to have years of your life drained from your soul?​

It feels like agony. It feels like flesh stripped from bone. It feels like fire in your veins. Tastes like ash in your mouth, the sting of smog in your eyes.

It feels like this.

It feels like Coruscant.


[member="Shai"] [member="Reverance"]

 

[Blackthorne]

This body would take some getting used to. Bipedal, opposable thumbs, vocal chords? Feth, she was a veritable humanoid again. How long had it been since she'd formed words on her lips? Grasped the flesh of another in her fingers?

...held a lightsaber.

Groaning sounded from her side, Shai was reminded that now was not the time to be reveling in such insignificant details as fingers and eyelashes. The hell were these tendrils on her head anyway? Feth, this was weird. This was exhilarating.

Where were they?

A rift had opened in that strange realm. Shai vaguely remembered from where they came, but only as if it were a distant dream now fading in the starlight of the real galaxy. It was gone now, wherever it had been, to be replaced with a cityscape she could only recall from a past long gone from her mind. Familiar, yet foreign all the same, Coruscant city was not a place one forgets very easily. Especially not when one was present for a Sith siege that dropped a Death Star on the planet.

Groaning again. This woman was heavy.

"Eeva," the togruta tried her tongue at what she knew to be the Merc's name, finding the use of her mouth strange, clumsy. Pale blue eyes watched [member="Ivy Lasranae"] with a growing awareness of the woman's perilous condition. She was bleeding out through makeshift wraps and fading fast. Infection had set in, Shai could smell it.

"...shinsizi na ki."

High Sith, the only language her memory served her. Too long had it been since she'd spoken anything else. No matter, if her sense of the Force still held, this planet was saturated in the Darkside anyway. Won't be long till the Sith show up. They always show up for fresh blood.

 

[Glim]

Glitterstim. The most expensive form of a common street drug.

Pure. Potent. Money in the bank. A delicacy for most, and therefore the plaything of those of no small means. Which meant it was now in the sights of Glim and his two-bit crew of wackjobs, bozos and psycopaths. He was the only one wearing a suit, but that suited him fine; no pun intended. Normally he tended to avoid Sith space. Caught here you could expect severe punishments in line with torture.

And that was if you were lucky.

But Coruscant was a thriving market for crime. A trillion souls, all compacted into one endless city. A perfect place to hide, but more importantly... a perfect place to heist. He and his group of three - himself included - were sitting in the alley behind a local high end club. The only thing between them and their prize was two locked doors, a kitchen and a safe. Plus the employees. Get in quick.

Get out quick.

That was the plan. Staring at the door, keypad and ID scanner blinking in his masked face, Glim found himself nervously casting a glance to the end of the shadowed alleyway. The two men with him were hustlers, little more. But he was a hustler too, and so he couldn't judge. All human. Easier to blend in that way. Pulling out a small jamming device he set it on the scanner and input a security code.

A few moments later a harsh buzzing sounded. At least it sounded harsh to him. In actuality it was quite low key in regards to volume level, but... well, when you were trying to stay hidden everything sounded like an explosion. Tension filled the air before a click was heard and a gloved hand rose to open the door. Ushering the two men in, he pulled the device free of the door and closed it quietly behind him.

First obstacle down.

Two more to go.

Then they could get out of here with what was supposed to be ten kilos of glitterstim. A couple hundred right there, he imagined. His mouth was all but salivating.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

This particular high-end club was in a vertical and horizontal region of town with just barely enough edge to make topsiders feel alive. [member="Glim"]'s getaway driver had borrowed a nice speeder limo, taken down the security tracker, and parked nearby like a chauffeur waiting for a club patron. Another half dozen pretty speeders' chauffeurs had similar ideas (the waiting, not so much the grand theft auto). Alec had opted for a suit, one of the few she owned - just enough to make herself chauffeur-y behind the tinted windows.

Her gloved fingers rapped a nervous rhythm on the wheel. Beneath the jacket, ostrine brass knuckles on a chain burned cold against her breastbone, and she wanted to put them on.

Glim knew what he was doing. The others, maybe.

 

[Reverance]

It may be tough to forget Coruscant, but Gabriel often wished he could. Of the planets he had known to such intimate depths, he hated this place the most. And yet, the universe continually found ways to drag him back into it, far removed from Selvaris and Khomm and Adumar and Arkania. All places he would rather be. But being the Wrath, being a man of infamous rapport, he often desired to play fate with a loaded die. Just to say he could. And what better place to do it then one of the few places that bounty hunters often congregated, sticking a finger in the socket to see if the power was on.

Everything was new aged and newfangled, common blade upgraded to look like an electric razor. Matsu had once told him that he tasted ancient and day by day, malice filled revelations brought to a head the level of sincerity in such notions. He was old, an anachronism for this time period, a tree of indeterminate growth and never cut open to count the rings. Antiquity felt removed from him, the desire for ink and parchment and stone made him nostalgic for a time period he likely never existed in. Perhaps that was why he felt so called to the Vong, a sort of biological simplification in their contrived and evolved 'machinations.' They weren't truly machinations, but they served the same purpose, and convenience found itself at a loss for words as those who could...would, despite ideas of ease and practicality.

Nails dragged abrasive pressure lines across the face as he furiously rubbed an itch free from the swirl of flesh, a constant reminder of actions taken for the act of losing, just not losing too much. A sacrifice, gleefully accepted, in time past. Another history, another time, and he couldn't help but smile as he dismissed the useless recapitulation for what it was. He was a titan atop the hill, wasted on thoughts of the ant he squashed on his first step of ascent. Never-mind, he thought, as he waved to a specific skewer and overpaid in credits for the sizzling meat. It was charred, smelled of particularly cheap spices, and had feint aromas of sewage. Perfect, nothing like the stench of Coruscant to add to the flavor. Ravenous, clenched teeth pulled flesh from impaled abdomen as he looked darkly upon the world around him, hidden in the folds of his armorweave cowl.

One alleyway, two alleyway, three alleyway, four. He stopped, mouth rolling masticated vermin through chomping teeth, no sign of manners in the entirety of his person. The aura of the planet was seeping into him, it seemed. A crimson eye, starring through the walking pace of those that passed, laid vision at a pair of individuals. A Togruta and an Epicanthix. Having interacted with Darth Vornskr, he recognized the species pretty quickly. Part of that memory type, recalling and eidetic, he placed the memory at the forefront of his mind as he began to stride forward.

"Mmm...she alright?" He said, his voice gnarled and deep. Obviously she wasn't alright, he could almost smell the wound at a distance. She needed medical attention and truthfully, her acute pain was something of a pleasure, washing over him. Helping him to forget his location, if just a moment. He held no immediately threatening considerations, as he wasn't one to cut down wilted flowers. For now, his aura remained mask in a persistence to hide it. Last thing he needed was some slightly force sensitive bounty hunter brat knocking on his door, looking to make bones with the name that often bred fear and anxiety.

[member="Shai"] | [member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Glim]

Moving in a half hunch, weapon barrel held at a low ready, Glim peeked around the corner as his ears were assaulted by three things; the kitchen, the kitchen staff, and the club itself. Heavy bass reverberated from outside the food prep area, but the staff themselves had a portable audio system set up and were blasting their own selections at a high enough level to almost - but not quite - drown out the main area.

That didn't even include the noise a kitchen would make normally. Clanging, sizzling, the rising suction of a freshly lit flame. Waiting until no one was looking this way, he darted across in his hunch, stopping across the way and past a few stoves before watching and motioning across the second person. He had a rubber mask, too, one made to look like a fancied image of the Dark Lord.

There was a pause to his heart before the man made it across, and he breathed a sigh of relief as said individual set another door opening device on the manager's door. Pausing, he motioned for the third to come. A nautolan mask, this time. With a flicker of his gloved hand, the man darted over. Again, Glim felt his heart still. But the man made it across. However, the third person was spotted.

Likely a flicker out of the corner of a chefs eye, and the man was coming this way. Glim leaned his head around the corner, sunken eyes putting a halt to the man's inquisitive steps. Judging by the glaze said chef was likely running a bit of a high. A blue gloved hand rose, pressing to the 'blood' stained lips of the mask. Yelping, the man fell flat on his ass. Another worker came up to help him, and a few words were exchanged.

This time, a shaky finger gave rise to a potential discovery, but as he came around the bend he found only the dark corner where the Manager's door was. No spectres. Shrugging at his companion and laughing, the pair went back to work. But the chef was still shaking, and Glim was too. "We're inside the office. Things will get loud within the next two minutes, Lady." He says in his nervous voice.

Hopefully no alarms were raised.

[member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Then.

A vast wasteland was what met Ivy's gaze when she finally came-to. Horizon saturated by the glow of a green planet looming too low in the sky to be considered real, an aura of uneasiness rolled across the landscape. Large black clouds hung in the distance - a screaming storm echoing over the hillsides.

Flashes of ephemeral blue and acidic green filled the skyline.

"Where are we?"

In the distance the lone silhouette of a tall spire. At its base a pale glow. It seemed to exude a sensation of mystery, of what if.

Ivy couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so lost. One moment she'd been on her way back to her ship, setting off for another mission out in the far reaches of the galaxy, hoping against hope the unknown would finally bring to her some evidence of him. Of them.

The next?

"Lye?" her hound was here, she could see the tuk'ata's hulking figure slumped against the ground not far off, emitting the sounds of a dreaming beast. Pitiful sounds that drew a deepening frown to her face. What could make such a predator, a king of many beasts, sound so scared? There came a quickening pace of her heart, Ivy looked once more to the spire in the fog, feeling an undeniable urge to get up and investigate it.

Ivy slowly got to her feet, adjusted her traveling cloak over the pauldrons of her armor and moved to nudge her hound, "Lye, come on."

The hound gave a haggard snarl the likes of which Ivy had never heard before.

"The feth is wrong with you mutt? I don't like this anymore than you do," Ivy nudged him with her foot.

Less than a second later dozens of six-inch fangs latched onto her right leg exerting over 2000 PSI.

Ivy heard her leg break before she felt it.


Now.

"Eeva,"

Familiarity fail me again. Where the feth were they now and who...

"...shinsizi na ki."

...who was this woman?

Not that any new visual might have helped. Ivy was lucid by this point. If the blood trail left behind and the stench of infection wasn't a clue to her condition, perhaps her blackout might be.

 

[Blackthorne]

Cleared the alley, managed the crowd. Shai took a moment to pause, gather her barrings, and shift the weight of the Merc. To the casual onlooker, it might've appeared the togruta was hauling her drunk friend home, armored arm slung over her shoulder to hoist the weight of the inebriated. Not exactly an uncommon sight in this place.

Shai attempted to garner the attention of various passerby, but cut of her voice must not have been clear enough.

Perhaps she should have taken the woman's cloak off, it wouldn't made the situation a bit more obvious.

"Mmm...she alright?"

Blue eyes blinked up at the stranger, noting the scent of foodstuffs on his breath. Shai licked her dry lips and momentarily considered dropping Ivy to accost him for his meal ... until the full of the Merc's weight suddenly pulled upon her.

"Eeva."

Marked brow knit, she looked back to the man with an expression of suspicion and scrutiny. He didn't look like he could help and it was unlikely he'd be able to understand her, but feth, he was the only one that seemed interested. Maybe if she showed him the mauled stump of Ivy's leg currently pooling discolored blood on the ground it might just translate the situation for her.

"Ji waria drarina ar j'us dari nindz shanwi," Shai answered, tone becoming strong, "ji saiyir nindz drarina."

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Glim"]

"I'll get the car warmed up."

The repulsor limo purred to idling life, one of several just waiting for their charges.

Down the street a way, a coterie of indistinguishable blondes in little black dresses shied away from the mouth of an alley. Many glances, exclamations...discomfort. Fear.

"Something might be up in the alley half a block west. Not sure."

 

[Glim]

Glim was still salivating, running his tongue over his lips as they bounded up the stairs into the manager's office. Said manager was entertaining important clients outside in the VIP area and wasn't here to put a stop to the masked men. They fanned out, covering the room. Bookshelves, paintings, a large desk. The safe was here somewhere... and sure enough, there it was. Hidden behind a replica of a famous painting; the Battle of Endor.

Pulling the painting down, he held out a gloved hand behind him. "Explosives." He says. The safe was old, but effective. Some things never went out of style. But this one had a scanner, not a keycode or keyhole.

That meant precise detonations, not over applied force.

He felt several bricks of plastic explosive set into his palm and he set them slowly at key points around the safe door. With hurried feet, he descended the steps halfway and waited for the others to join him. "Be ready." He says, more to [member="Alec Rekali"] than anyone else. A few seconds ticked by, and then the explosives went. Tight space, high explosives.

His ears rang, vision swimming from concussive force. The safe door was blown clear, and he bounded up the steps while pulling the duffel from his back in a smooth motion. Not unlike a teenage boy fumbling with the bra straps of his first conquest, his shaking fingers moved to tug free the zipper restraining him from what he desired. Moments later he was stuffing bricks of glitterstim, already processed and packaged, into the duffel.

They'd said ten.

There must have been twenty. The bag was full. Unlike the club.

People were scattering; there was no hiding an explosion. They left through front door, side doors and alley, escaping a fire alarm and what they imagined to be a terrorist attack. "OUT THE BACK." He shouts, needing to hear himself as much as anything else. The trio scrammed, heading out the kitchen and through the back door into the alley they'd been in before before stepping out into the street looking for their getaway.

But, instead, they found themselves near a Togruta and a drunk... and someone else.

The pits of the eyes of his mask settled on the group, no doubt striking a curious figure. Mask. Suit. Scattergun... duffel bag. Two companions with blaster rifles, too. All looking like nerfs in a speeder's lights.

Alec needed to get over here... now.

[member="Shai"] [member="Ivy Lasranae"] [member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

He ticked his tongue as she spoke, a hiss, involuntary reaction to her losing words that could cause some serious trouble if fallen upon the wrong ears. These were trying times for the Sith, especially the lower hanging fruit who hadn't the opportunity to learn how to defend themselves. He could sense something about this Togruta, a combination of new and old, an odd sort of diffidence that he could understand more than most. Being as far removed from his own time frame, it was something to which he related. But more importantly, a rather large bounty had been put out on the members of the One Sith, without prejudice. And for those Sith who thought themselves removed from the faction, they would soon find that an apple fallen from the tree is still an apple, no matter how far down the hill it rolls.

Walking over, he inspected the Mercenary with a steady eye that seemed to suggest appraisal. Even beneath the cowl, it was obvious he had no intent in harming either of them. His recent conquest had been wasted on death and destruction, a life mired in the gory and visceral. There was only so much blood that could persist before there was nothing left to clean off, mineral stains a constant reminder of deeds done. A day away, that was all he was looking for, a chance to interact with the world beyond his declared station. Perhaps this was his opportunity, as he hid his presence and stared angrily at the woman. He knew it was High Sith, but he had never taken well to the religion or the culture. His approach was rested more in the pragmatic, latching on to the fastest machine until something better came along. And it seemed, for the time being, nothing was going to over take it.

"If you can't speak another tongue...don't speak at all." His voice was low, closer to growl than a whisper, his words intent on relaying the message. Though if she couldn't speak standard, then well she wouldn't understand what he was saying. And he assumed she wasn't versed in Vong. The thought hit him as helped to left the woman who was far heavier than he anticipated. She was Epicanthix after all, though 20 lbs less from the looks of things. With the proximity, he could smell the onset, his degree in the medical field and time as a field mercenary and ad-hoc medic kicked in. "We need to get her to the doctor...that septic wound is gonna eat away at her until nothing is left." Even banzai trees can grow and proper, given the right nourishment and care.

[member="Shai"] | [member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Shai narrowed her eyes dubiously at the man. She didn't like his tone, but currently none of that really mattered. Now increasingly aware of contaminated blood saturating her own clothes from other various wounds on Ivy's side she was not lament for an extra set of hands.

Even if she couldn't fully comprehend what he was saying.

Shai released a hiss in retort, clearly undisturbed by his own disfigured face or his apparent anger. You don't spend centuries in servitude to High Sith Lords and Priests without becoming accustomed to the grotesque and monstrous.

Sssssk.

The pair began to move away, downed Merc draped over eithers' shoulders, only to elicit startled yelps from passerby as the pooled blood trail on the sidewalk became evident. Moments later a group of masked men burst into the adjacent alleyway - anyone that hadn't been spooked from the proximity now found themselves fleeing at the site of the hideous masks and guns. Montrals ringing with constant feed on her surroundings, she twisted beneath the arm of her companion to see just what the new commotion was all about.

Three men - one wiry, suited, carrying a large bag and a gun, the other two toting rifles. Not exactly a welcoming sight.

Prickling at what appeared to be an unexpected threat, Shai did what came instinctively - she unleashed a wave of the Force at them, which in turn acted sporadically and instead careened off into a nearby dumpster, causing the thing to explode upwards and outwards, raining trash and shrapnel across the occupants of the alley.

[member="Glim"] [member="Reverance"] [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Reverance]

The force, molested in all it's glory and current impudence, had made a powerful Sith Lord turn back to his former ways of living life as a mercenary, albeit an extremely influential one. Unable to remember where he picked it up, the footsteps to his right and the displacement of his currently conscious companion's focus brought to mind ole' Beaut, a blackened steal scattergun that remained on his person at all times - especially as the universe continued to drift mercilessly through space, sans Bogan and Ashla's steady hand. And he never went anywhere without it packed to the brim with little eager slugs, polymer tips promising of fatal pain that could careen down the alleyway much faster than he was currently capable.

His crimson eye watched and felt the power flow out of the Togruta, the haze of the force push sailed and curved unlike what he had ever seen. Still being temperamental, he thought, as he mentally sighed and resigned to deal with this issue as he had done throughout the course of recent conquest. Gabriel was an imposing figure, though not so much for most Sith Lords of the One Sith. Truth be told, he was of deceitful fitness and speed. A dense figure standing just under 6', his posture promised of ample levels of training and capability. Unholstering the weapon from it's long sheath, his right hand leveled it at the three from the depths of the cowl that descended into an armorweave tan cloak. Beneath, his war-torn armor and flack vest, unnoticeable to those currently a victim of the concealment of the cloth on top. For them, they wouldn't know of the ammunition within and the fact that it would be good against only one opponent at a time - he allowed the enigma to offer it's own form of threat in the guise of scatter pellets.

"You seem to be in a hurry..." He growled, failing to reveal his face. The irony of this situation is that he had recently given this planet to another Lord, through the authority of the Dark Lord. His ascendancy was far stretching but even the illusion of it's presence remained tethered far and away, a weapon he preferred to leave where it currently resided. He was merely another mercenary right now. "We've no interest in fighting you...go about your business and we'll go about ours." His tone hinted at a sort of weariness confounded with an abundance of confidence. Even body builders take days off from breaking muscle.

[member="Shai"] | [member="Glim"] | [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Glim"] [member="Shai"] [member="Reverance"]

The first boom was expected. Plastic explosives, back of the club. Her idling speeder-limo lurched away from the curb, losing about a metre's worth of altitude, and she made a drastic U-turn beneath the level of passing traffic. Repulsors battered her roof, the undercarriage scraped on space asphalt, but she made the turn and aimed to scoot into the alley.

At which point the second boom turned a dumpster to a future tactical necessity. She made a note to try replicating that with a concussion rifle sometime. Only problem? That second boom went off without explosives. Well, not only problem. See, a second boom hadn't been part of the picture at all.

Her headlights illuminated a tall, scarred man with the kind of clothes that hid either serious weapons or a pathologically derivative fashion sense; a Togruta covered in angst; someone else, a woman maybe, half-hidden behind the dumpster from this angle; and Glim's crew. Alec flicked her hi-beams: GET IN.

 

[Glim]

Three things happened in quick succession.

1. The others saw the group at roughly the same time Glim and his gang came to a stop near the road.

2. The Togruta reflexively attempted to do... something to them that actually just exploded a dumpster.

3. Said exploding dumpster drowned out whatever [member="Reverance"] was saying.

So that meant Glim and his guys did two things;

1. The guys with the blasters opened up while moving back towards where the hi-beams had flashed from.

2. Glim didn't shoot and instead opted to move backward quicker, pulling open the door and throwing the duffel in before waiting for the other two to join him.

And that's what happened. Nautolan Mask and Dark Lord of the Sith mask both stood their ground and did the reasonable thing when twitchy with dumpsters exploding around them; they opened fire on said Dumpster Exploder (@Shai.)

But Glim knew better than to stick around, so whether or not his companions survived long enough to get into the speeder with he and [member="Alec Rekali"]... well, that wasn't much of his business. At least not pressingly so. So no sooner was in the speeder then he gave a bark of a shout. "Kriffin' chit. WHY CANT THESE THINGS EVER GO AS PLANNED." He seriously - seriously - hated Sith.

 

[Blackthorne]

Soon as those blaster-bolts went flying Shai did something she would likely not be proud of later on. Unarmored, herself, she was not want for losing her own appendages - no longer covered in the scales of a tuk'ata, the Sith Knight used the next best and nearest thing: her companion. Ivy had armor, rarely even took it off. Something about sentimentality ... old habits die hard, blah blah blah.

Ivy's armor was now Shai's shield, and the togruta made good use of it by burrowing herself further under the downed woman's hulking figure..

It wouldn't deflect blaster bolts, but it would sure as hell absorb a good lot of the damage they would otherwise rend on unprotected flesh.

Effective. Sort of.

Still too close for comfort though, and who knew what kind of damage the armor had taken back in the Nether. Reaching over to tug at the man, Shai hissed in [member="Reverance"]'s direction before heaving at Ivy's weight and making to move off and out of range. Easier said than done, but at least the man didn't put up a fuss about it. Something about his lack of protection likely had something to do with it. They ducked into the next alley, watching civilians flee in all directions, scattering like a bad roll of the dice.

Shai swore under her breath in that indiscernible language of hers, sparing a sidelong glance back out towards [member="Glim"] and his thugs.

At her side Ivy's breathing grew labored and wheezy.

"Ohp-itall," the togruta said to Reverence.

 

[Reverance]

And just when he was prepared to have some fun, he was tugged into the alleyway, like some sort of defenseless civilian. He wondered what other Sith Lords would think, especially those in the hierarchy, to see him moving about like rats scurrying at the creak of noise in a long hallway, fettering beneath floor boards and looking for that bit of wall chewed out by recent ventures. It felt jarring, he surmised, as he eyed the Togruta for a brief moment, his crimson gaze carrying a bit of weight as he absentmindedly inspected the cracks in the wall before him. He had helped with the woman's weight but with each step, she grew more and more limp, and that armor seemed to ride a bit harder on the corpse. At least, by the smell of things, it would be a corpse soon enough.

"I told you about that tongue..." He whispered as he heaved the armored Epicanthix up, pulling most of the weight to himself and away from the Togruta. This was a dance he would lead now, not for the endeavors of the woman, as Gabriel possessed a certain skill set - physical strength beyond his means was one of them. Besides, he knew his way around this area. They were a hop skip and a jump from the nearest doc n the box, a relatively sketchy looking sort with a new coat of paint and the light bulbs freshly changed. It had all the appearances and prestige of the hospital with half the funding and a quarter of the ethics. And since Gabriel was relatively loaded, bounties claimed for Jedi structures destroyed and personnel killed, not to mention being the Wrath - he was of an elevated means.

As they approached the facility, the doors slid open through gauge of a motion detector, that swift metallic eye moving back and forth before capturing the image of two individuals carrying a wounded warrior. As soon as they entered, it seemed like no one cared to notice, the trail of blood forming small puddles that would lead all the way back to the shootout, given the proper deductive skills. That didn't matter much, it appeared their actions would go unnoticed for now. As Gabriel approached the waiting area, he helped sit Ivy down and glanced at the Shai. They may have not been able to speak the same language, but she would be capable of discerning the intensity of his posture, the hardness of his stare, the cold calculation as he weighed the odds. As he approached the counter, he rung the bell relentlessly, until a candystriper approached.

"Yes?"
"My friend needs help..."
"Well, we have about a four hour wait..."
"Her wounds are potentially fatal...she could bleed out in your waiting room right now..."
"4...hours." She pointed her finger towards the long list on the sign up sheet.

This would be one of those perfect situations were Gabriel could let loose, starting with the woman and working his way through the facility. A doctor making his own sort of rounds. But a leaf, given the right wind, can turn over if but only momentarily. Cracking his neck, his hand dug into his pocket and pulled out an untraceable debit tracker. He squinted at the woman as he ran the code across the interface, revealing the available balance. As her eyes grew wide, Gabriel reached out and yanked her by the collar, nearly pulling her out of her little protective box. He just wanted to get close is all, flashing an outward glare to any who might think such a thing odd. Fixing his eye back on the woman, he released his grip and allowed her to slide back across the counter. "My friend...needs help."

She wasn't his friend, he didn't even know her. Hell, they could be enemies for all he knew. But he would see her healed and if it came to that, maybe he'd finish off the work that was started by Bogan knows what, when the odds were set on par. The circus would begin as sirens screamed, the likes of which resembled some sort of emergency alarm. As the doors opened to the back, a gurney with the appropriate equipment emerged and the Sith Lord cut them off at the pass. With a firm hand on the Togrutas arm, he pulled her away from Ivy. He had made enough of a scene for now, no need getting some confused alien even more confused and incapable of fully expressing herself, beyond the tongue of High Sith. It wasn't a grab of aggressiveness, but of reassurance, despite how hard it may have been.

But in truth, she had no reason to truly trust him...

[member="Shai"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Shai managed, for the most part, to collect the belongings of her compatriot before she was hauled away on the gurney. She watched the body go with a strange sense of duty and longing ...and a definite desire to follow. She wasn't able to carry out the last task, but there was no doubting that the remnants of her last life alongside the Merc were still floating through her mind.

Once upon a time she'd been that woman's shadow. A big, toothy, hungry shadow, mind you, but a loyal and protective one nevertheless. Her fingers itched, and for a moment she found herself having to stop from dropping to all fours and charging off after that gurney.

Not a tuk'ata anymore.

She looked to the man instead, lekku twitching, and momentarily considered using the Vor'cha stun stick now in her possession on him, just to see him squirm. Just to feel that sense of power that had been beyond her reach for the last several hundred years. Shai lifted her hands into her line of sight and turned her blue eyes to look at them now, fingers flexing, turning them over and back again as though they were as foreign to her as Basic language.

Her curiosity continued, perusing her new figure. Now to the lekku that she picked up and inspected, then to her blood-stained clothing, and last to the Sith Amulet that hung around her neck, positively electric with darkside energy.

This was really shaping up to be a very strange day indeed.

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

Gabriel knew the species of the woman sitting next to him well enough, appreciating the sort of echolocation that she likely could practice with those physiological adaptations. He had torn apart people of her kind just to gaze into the membranous organ, the control of the tympanic nerve that ran from the mouth to the inner ear, allowing projection of sound for discerning location. He wondered if it was like the Twi'lek, where should he touch her lekku, would she stun up in pain and convulse at the sensitivity? Morbid curiosity couldn't overcome his desire to prove a point not only to those around him, but to himself. That he could control himself even in the draw of blood, the smell of it's lacquer across the floor resonated in something personal and something exquisite - his mind watered and salivated at the notions of the sanguine paint that were residual and ever reminding of the consequences of whatever action he had stumbled upon. As if hell itself had taken a chomp from the Epicanthix and belched her out, disdaining the taste and wanting nothing more of it. Or perhaps the clutch of the maw felt pity for the woman, knowing that shewould forever be marred by damages incurred.

It struck a chord with him, one that lingered and left a ringing sense in his ear - something that would have canceled out any echolocation should he have been as naturally gifted as the Togruta. But that ringing wasn't something mental, it was the sound of the bell as the doctor called him and his newly acquired friend. He placed his arm on the woman next to him, far more gentle than before, as he stared quietly at her and nodded towards the door way. Lifting himself from the chair with a sigh, he bit the corner of his bottom lip and scratched the salt and pepper growth on his chin. Approaching the doctor, Gabriel cracked his neck.

"What's the prognosis?" Doctor speak, as if Gabriel had former training. Which he did.
"Outlook is good. Your credits were extremely helpful in getting the proper antibiotics. She lost the leg but nothing more. She should make a full recovery."
"Is she awake?"
"No, she'll need rest. There is a hotel nearby for you to stay at. If you can leave your contact information, we'll get a hold of you once she is ready for visitation."
"No, that's not gonna do. We'll see her now."
"I'm sorry, that wont be-"
"I said no. We'll see her now." Gabriel bore into the man, his crimson eye a saber beam projected with malice and irritation. He might as well have been burning scorch marks in the white coat. With that, the doctor waved for the two to progress down the hall. A hop skip and a jump would reveal the woman, armor-less, laying seemingly unconscious and obviously missing a vital portion of her body. She seemed...comfortable.

Gabriel walked over to machinery near her bedside, looking at her vitals. Blood pressure low, pulse low, but everything seemed stable. He gave a lingering glance to the Togruta before fanning out his cloak as he sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He perched his hand in front of his mouth and sat, quietly. As if he had nothing better to do with his time but watch this woman stir from her sleep, come to the realization of her loss, and progress through the stages of grief. He felt an odd sort of attachment the conclusion of this event.

[member="Shai"]