Private Descent | RIS

[Cassian Abrantes]

Shade ​

He caught the faint gleam of her knives, the rhythmic certainty in how she breathed before she spoke. Cassian understood it as she said three minutes, it was calculation. They were cut from the same cloth of measured defiance, where survival wasn't luck but method.

Vale stirred weakly in his arms, a low murmur escaping her lips. Cassian's focus stayed on the walkway ahead, scanning the convergence points. "Pressure sensors still active." he murmured, half to himself. "They'll know we're moving up-tier."

Shade's hand brushed his forearm a fleeting, deliberate contact that grounded them both. Her words followed, level and precise: Your shot was clean.
He gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching at the edge of something that wasn't quite a smile. "You left me the space to take it."

The echo of boots carried closer now, the distinct cadence of trained pursuit. Cassian's mind parsed routes faster than his pulse could rise service duct to the right, vent shaft north, abandoned cargo tram ahead. He tilted his head toward the tram line, eyes narrowing.

The sound of pursuit grew louder behind them, the first flickers of flashlights breaking through the dark like hunting dogs' eyes.

"You were right on the money." Cassian muttered. "Two squads maybe three."

They reached the tram line, a long stretch of open tunnel illuminated by the flicker of emergency beacons. Cassian set Vale down gently behind a support column, eyes scanning the opposite platform. "Once we hit the midpoint." he said, "We split fire, you cover the flank, I'll draw them towards me. We end this fight right now."

 

[Shade]

Shade moved without hesitation, the calm of a trained shadow folding over her like a second skin. She slid the knife back into its sheath with a practiced motion, the metal sliding home almost inaudibly, then palmed the charric pistols from their holsters—cold, familiar weight settling into her grip. Her breaths were shallow, controlled; the Force hummed along her nerves, sharpening each sense.

She checked the tram line with a quick sweep of her eyes, mapped exits and choke points in a single heartbeat, then leveled her attention on Cassian.

"Midpoint, split fire," she said, voice crisp, all business. "You draw. I cut the flank. Keep Vale between us. Don't cluster—spread angles, make them choose."

She slid into position, back close to the column, pistols raised and ready. The tunnel's emergency beacons stuttered; the sound of boots and distant calls snapped tighter around them.

"Three minutes. If they push hard, we abandon the tram and move the tram car—use it as cover and a rapid exit. I'll call the break."

Her eyes flicked over the platform once more, measuring distance and trajectory in a glance, every micro-decision already resolved into action.

"When I say 'go,' we make it clean. No hesitation."

Cassian Abrantes

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Shade
​

Cassian's jaw set into a practiced line the moment Shade called the cadence. The words cut through the clatter like a blade. He didn't hesitate. Rifle came up in one smooth motion, sight settling on the narrowing tunnel and the smear of movement closing in from the left.

Muscle memory took over, breath, aim, controlled burst. Two of them folded where he'd picked their hips out from under the dim light, no theatrics, only necessary, clean violence. Vale was cradled against the last column, behind him, giving her plenty of cover, they had to keep the fight in front of them. Cassian's precision and skill with his weapons was on full display, not to showcase but then, quickly and efficiently. Several more steady bursts of fire and his enemies collapsed.

The sight of Shade there, a shadow carved into the flank, weapons whispering promises of death, steadied him in a way nothing else could. Her timing was immaculate; her fire cut the angles he couldn't see, bought him the seconds they needed.

Behind the suppression, Cassian's mind catalogued escape vectors: tram car as mobile cover, vents to break line of sight, the elevator shaft as a last resort. They had to be clean, and precise

 

[Shade]

Shade noted everything—not just the tactical shifts, but the quiet ones.

The faint pulse in the emergency strips made Cassian's green eyes catch the light differently each time he pivoted: focused, alive, sharp as a vibro-blade's edge. The way his grip adjusted on Vale wasn't just efficient—it was protective, grounding. His stance widened a fraction whenever her breathing hitched, anchoring her without slowing pace.

That… was new. And it hit her with an unexpected weight she forced down in the name of discipline. She kept moving.

Her charrics hummed low in her hands, the quiet prelude to violence. She swept the corridor, mapping angles, the air-pressure change where the enemy advanced, the metallic rasp of boots dragging over grated flooring. Even the flick of Cassian's shoulder as they moved told her he was still in step with her—always in step with her.

Shade dipped slightly, voice barely above a whisper yet carrying command as clean as the line of her aim. "Tram remains our best vector," she said, gaze flicking to the rail line already vibrating with inbound threat. "We take midpoint. You maintain forward pressure—controlled bursts only. I will suppress the flank and cut pursuit at the bend."

Her eyes returned to him, crimson reflecting the emergency lights in thin, predatory ribbons—but something warmer threaded beneath "Do not let her slip. We keep her between us."

The echoes of approaching fire grew sharper—the hunt tightening. She drew one breath—the kind that chose violence without hesitation.

"Cassian." He looked her way, just for a heartbeat. It was enough. "We move on your mark."

But the pulse in her chest wasn't timing the enemy anymore—It was timed for him.

Cassian Abrantes

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Shade ​

Cassian’s hand rose in a silent signal with two fingers, then a clenched fist. Move.

The corridor erupted before the sound could reach them. Cassian stepped forward, rifle up, the recoil biting against his shoulder as precise bursts cut through the haze of red light and smoke. The first squad rounded the corner too fast; he dropped the lead man with a double tap to the chest, pivoted, and stitched the second across the thigh. "Left side clear.” he called over the din, voice steady. “Push through!”

They advanced in sync, each step a rhythm of trust and practiced violence. The grid lights flickered overhead, sparks cascading like dying embers as they reached the platform’s midpoint. Cassian moved to cover her flank, his rifle singing steady bursts, calculated and calm.

When the last trooper went down, silence surged back a brutal, sudden stillness punctuated only by the hiss of cooling barrels and the faint hum of the tram line. Cassian didn’t waste the moment. He slung his rifle, crouched beside Vale, and hauled her into his arms, adjusting her weight with the practiced precision of a soldier who’d done this before, too many times.

“Shade, we’re moving.” he said, voice low but decisive.

She was already in motion, pistols holstered as she took point, prepping the Tram for departure.

They sprinted the final stretch together. Cassian could feel the vibration under his boots the approaching squads, heavier reinforcements, closing the net. Cassian ducked inside, setting Vale onto the bench as the emergency lighting flared across her pale face.

“Go!”

Through the narrow viewport, Cassian saw the pursuing squads break into the station too late, their shouts swallowed by the rush of acceleration as the tram sped into the black.

Cassian leaned against the bulkhead, rifle still ready, eyes flicking between the unconscious agent and the woman opposite him. The glow of the undercity fading behind them, crimson eyes steady even in the dim cabin light.

He drew a slow breath, the tension bleeding from his shoulders just enough to let the words escape. “We’re clear.” Cassian placed a hand on Shade’s shoulder, gave it an affectionate squeeze. “That wasn’t so bad.” He said with a smile on his face.

The tram rattled on into the dark, carrying them toward the surface. They still had to board their vessel and depart, this was almost done.

 

[Shade]

Shade's pistols clicked into place, muscles coiled, eyes on Cassian as he set Vale down. Every movement he made—precise, measured, deliberate—registered with her, from the green of his eyes to the careful way he held the agent. Even here, in the tram, he moved with control.

When his hand brushed her shoulder briefly, she stiffened, a controlled acknowledgment, before letting it settle. Not weakness—recognition of the bond threading between them.

"Good work," she murmured, low and precise. "No hesitation, no missteps. That's how we survive, together."

The tram shuddered as it climbed toward the surface. Shade's gaze flicked to the viewport—the darkened city stretched upward, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows. She caught the flicker of movement outside: pursuers.

"Contact, two o'clock," she said quietly. "Small team, lightly armored. They'll engage once we clear the tram line."

Cassian ducked as the first flashes of blaster fire arced toward them. Shade moved with fluid precision, stepping to cover on the tram roof, pistols raised. Angles, distance, trajectory—her mind calculated every shot in a heartbeat.

"Engage only when certain. One strike per threat. Clean. Efficient. Disable before they can react."

Assailants appeared; Shade's shots found limbs, forcing them down without lethal excess. Cassian suppressed fire while she advanced, her body a predator, rhythm matched to his. She noted the tension threading through his jaw, the adjustments he made for Vale, the precise micro-movements in his stance. Every heartbeat synced, a silent acknowledgment between them.

"Clear that side," she ordered, covering the rear as reinforcements appeared. "One misstep, one hesitation, and it's ours to pay. Eyes, ears, reflexes—all in harmony."

Blaster bolts sang behind her. Shade's pistols hummed in reply, each shot precise, forcing attackers into retreat. She glanced at Cassian, tension mirrored in his grip on Vale, and allowed the briefest recognition of the unspoken connection between them.

"Almost done, Cassian," she murmured. "Stay sharp. We're not safe until we reach the ship. Eyes open, every step counted."

The tram rattled on, night air buzzing with electricity. Danger threaded every shadow—but for now, they moved as one, deadly, precise, and bound by the quiet rhythm of survival.

Cassian Abrantes

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Shade
​

Cassian adjusted his grip on Vale as the tram lurched forward, the vibration rolling through the metal under his boots. The air was sharp with ozone and smoke; the scent of spent energy clung to them both. Shade’s voice carried through the noise, steady, measured, every word anchored in the discipline that had saved their lives more times than he could count.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

“On it.” he replied, already shifting position. He used his body to shield Vale, pivoting her behind a bench as the tram jolted through a turn. His rifle spat light, controlled and methodical, suppression, not chaos. Shade’s shots answered from the roof above, each one a pulse of precision that carved open their exit.

The tram roared into open space, the undercity falling away behind them. Cassian felt the shift before he saw it, the light growing softer, the air thinning as they climbed toward the upper tiers. He allowed himself one glance toward Shade. She was still moving with that same deadly grace, every motion deliberate, every breath measured. Even through the danger, the sight steadied him.

The last streaks of enemy fire dissipated behind them. By the time the tram slid into the upper terminal, the city lights had replaced the emergency glow. Cassian didn’t slow. He scooped Vale closer and moved fast, boots striking durasteel in rhythm with the pounding in his chest.

They crossed the final stretch of walkway to the ship, their ship, its ramp already lowering in silent welcome. Cassian keyed the remote lock, and the hum of the engines greeted them like an old heartbeat.

“Inside.” he said, voice low, commanding. He carried Vale up the ramp, setting her gently onto the med-cot as the ramp would retreat and close behind them. The thud of the doors closing felt final, like a punctuation to the chaos.

The hum of the hyperdrive filled the silence that followed. Cassian moved to the pilots seat as he fired the ship up, shields up.

It wouldn’t be long now. They were soon up in the air and were soon in space.

“How is she doing?”

 

[Shade]

Shade stepped in behind him as the ramp sealed away the last roar of the city, the world outside falling into silence. She stayed beside Vale, one palm braced against the bulkhead as the ship lifted, vibrations rolling up through her boots—no longer danger, just momentum. The hum of the engines expanded beneath them, sharp air thinning as they climbed toward the upper tiers and beyond.

Cassian's question carried back from the pilot's chair, clipped but threaded with a concern he rarely said outright.

"She is stable," Shade replied, every word deliberate. Her fingers checked Vale's pulse once more—not out of doubt, but discipline—before she turned fully toward him.

The cockpit glow found the cut along his jaw, the sheen of exertion still drying there. And his eyes—green, focused, steadily cutting through shadow and starlight—meeting each readout with a soldier's precision. Her attention lingered longer than intended.

He had moved with absolute control back there. Even burdened. It had steadied her more than she should allow.

"You held her well," she said quietly. "Your positioning was efficient. They never had a clean shot." A beat, softer—real. "You did not hesitate."

Her hand rose before she could think to restrain the movement—fingertips brushing the fabric at his shoulder where armor met cloth—confirming the strength beneath, confirming he was here.

Still breathing. Still, her anchor in the worst moments.

Her touch lingered one heartbeat too long. She withdrew it, composure folding neatly back into place like sheathing a blade.

"We hold position until she wakes," Shade continued, voice level once more. "Then we decide our next move."

She turned back toward Vale—but only in body.

She could still feel his eyes on her. And she let the moment exist, just for now.

Cassian Abrantes

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Shade ​

"You did good work down there." he said, his voice lower now, quieter. "The kind that doesn't make reports but saves lives."

He looked back to the stars, letting the ship drift on its course. "We'll stay here until she wakes. Then…" He hesitated, not because he didn't know what came next, but because he didn't want to rush this stillness. "Then we move."

He felt her hand at his collar and he looked up to her for a brief moment as she turned to walk away. And it was an instinct, maybe it was the grounding feeling that he shared with her. But he had to reach out, but it was gently reach and hold. His hands moved for hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Hey..." Cassian started to say, as he looked into her eyes for a brief moment so much he wanted to say, to do, but then faltered before he looked forward again. At the vastness of space ahead of them, and the stars.

"Thank you Shade."

 

[Shade]

Shade's fingers lingered on his palm just a heartbeat longer than necessary, a fleeting tether, deliberate yet unspoken. Not weakness. Not a distraction. Just…acknowledgment. The sort that carried weight without words, that spoke quietly in the space between them.

"You did your part too," she murmured, voice low and measured. "We both did. That's how this ends clean."

Her crimson eyes tracked the stars beyond the viewport but returned to him, noting the tension in his jaw, the careful control in his hands—the same discipline that steadied her. A flicker of something warmer stirred at the edges of her awareness, tempered by restraint. She would not name it; naming was dangerous. Naming invited vulnerability.

"Don't thank me," she said softly, precise. "We keep moving. We keep surviving. That's enough."

She let her hand drop to her side, posture straight, ready, eyes glancing once to Vale to confirm stability before returning to the stars. The hum of the ship, the quiet of space, threaded a delicate tension between them—one that needed no words.

"Stay ready," Shade whispered, voice just above a breath. "Nothing's over until we're clear."

And in that unspoken moment, she allowed herself the smallest of concessions: she felt it, a pull she would not define, but she would not deny.

Cassian Abrantes