Dodging Coruscanti Oppressors

[Zemi Madstone]

Following the Spectres instructions had seen Zemi wind up on what she was told was Coruscant. She didn't like it. She didn't like the way it smelled, she didn't like the comparatively clean lines and orderliness of it, and she particularly did not like all the people. Everywhere people.

Apparently she had keepers now. Staff said the Spectre. Oppressors said Zemi! They tried to clean and dress her. She was having none of it. She hadn't been able to dodge them that first day exhausted and starving as she'd been, and had gotten a thorough scrubbing and delousing, but they'd damned well gotten a few good lumps and in a few instances bite marks in return. Then there was the battle of the clothes. Apparently they'd burned hers for sanitary reasons. They'd tried to put a dress on her. It had been yellow. With flowers.

How was one to slink and slide unseen in yellow? She'd thrown it out a window and gone naked in protest. Well. Up until some man had decided to get too close for comfort, which to be fair was anywhere within a ten yard radius and she'd stabbed him in the eye with a candle. He'd been given pants and a long sleeved shirt to wear. No one had tried to put him in a dress. So she'd taken them. The bloodstains were just a bonus. Granted they hung off her diminutive frame in a semi-comical manner, but this sort of thing did not concern her. She tied them up with a drape cord and that was good enough for her.

A speed expedition into the kitchens which were never empty saw her armed with what she thought was a rather nice knife, which did a lot to calm the feral girl down.

It was still too clean.

She'd overheard, from her place curled up under an ornate table, some of her keepers complaining about being sent to the undercity on errands. Apparently it was filthy and disreputable. These were very similar things to what they'd said about her. It sounded like an improvement.

So she'd slipped out, when no one was looking. Barefeet padding silently, knife handle in the palm of her hand, blade flat against her arm, hidden by the over long sleeves. She'd had no idea where she was going, and was made exceptionally paranoid by the initial rush of people, but had figured out that if you just kept choosing the path that looked slightly less anti-septic, slightly grittier, and travelled down whenever possible, things began to get.. More tolerable. Eventually she made it to what one more knowledgeable would have identified as the Coruscant underworld.

There were still too many damned people.

Instincts honed for survival noted immediately when a gang of rough looking characters took interest in her and began dogging her steps. Eyes narrowed slightly at this, though she watched them only in reflections. An opening, a hole in the street ahead caught her attention. It looked dark and tight in there. Perfect. Without a second thought she dropped down the manhole, landing on the walkway. Filth, intolerable to most, but just another day to her, squished beneath her feet. Grease dripping down the walls from above was gleefully gathered as her free hand swiped across the wall, over-long sleeve sopping up the ichor.

Sleeve was wiped across face, neck, darkening, hiding.

As she moved deeper into the sewers, her eyes started to adjust. There, a deeper darkness higher up on the wall. A draining tunnel. It would be tight but.. As she heard the first sets of feet drop down after her, the girl grabbed the edge of the tunnel and pulled herself up. The difficult bit was turning so she could enter it feet first. Underfed as she was it was still a tight fit, but she want to make sure if they did find her she could bring the knife into play. She backed further into the tunnel, fighting, squeezing for each inch she gained.

Now to wait.

She'd not wholly decided whether she was merely hiding to let them pass by or if she intended on removing the threat to her person. Time would tell.

The knife dipped down, nicking her forearm.

"Blood paid, blood saved."

She whispered the ritual words, and felt the force shield settle into place around her, just in case.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

There was always something on Coruscant. Between the occasional murders to a senator breaking a law and covering it up, there was always something to be found in the dirtier part of society. And it was something Ferus had kept an eye on. As the leader of a group meant to operate in the shadows, he needed to know what was going on there. Normally, it was boring. He'd learn of cases where a senator would be found with a woman that wasn't his wife and have the girl killed, that was pretty dark, but it was rather normal.

Until he learned of the man killed by a candle stick. He had seen a small female rush out of a building as he walked along the streets, and rather than follow her Ferus went into the room. The Zabrak almost burst out into laughter when he saw the body. To him, this was hilarious. Death by candle, it was almost a bad joke. But he could see the skill of the strike even from his distance. It wasn't chance that the candle ended up in this poor mans eye, but dark skill.

Skill he could use.

So, turning on a heel, he would begin to do the thing he was good at. Track. Well, he himself wasn't any good, but from the shadows around him came forth a rather large tiger. Bar'reth, a Bha'lir, was his animal companion, and expert tracker. Ferus would follow the monster cat with both hands behind his back. [member="Zemi Madstone"] wouldn't get too far ahead after all. But he was in no hurry, and soon enough he would just be following behind, keeping to the shadows while his beastly friend kept her scent.

He watched as the gang came out and began to follow her, and with a sickening grin the Sith Lord decided to see what the female would do. Would she end up being killed? Or would she kill them? For the longest time, it seemed like neither. Until she went down the manhole. With a surprised look on his face the Sith Lord would tilt his head. The gangsters themselves seemed shocked, and they began to discuss among themselves how much it was worth to go down in the hole.

Until one finally noticed the red man standing there watching. With the fact Ferus hadn't moved after they stopped, it was very clear he had been watching. One, a rodian, decided he'd be the big man and walk up to this stranger. But before a word came out, the Sith was upon him. Hidden blade flashing, he would impale the alien right under his chin. The other two wouldn't exactly know what was going on, but to them it looked similar enough to him chocking the Rodian that they pulled out blasters.

Another opened his mouth to shout at the Red Assassin, but similar to his friend he was cut short. This time by a heavy, large animal. Bar'reth pounced down, tearing out the mans throat without any sort of hesitation. The third in last turned to stare at the Bha'lir, going to point his gun and fire, only to hold a similar fate to the rest. Interrupted by Ferus himself, he would find the hidden blade through his throat.

The bodies of the dead gangsters would be left where they were. No reason to hide trash this far down in Coruscant after all, but the tiger would have to be left above ground. The manhole she had gone into was too small for the beast. So Ferus would jump down alone. A purple flame would erupt in front of him, the small sphere of fire being used to light the pathway ahead. He could feel the girl still, and as he walked on he would slowly get closer and closer to where she was hiding. The purple light would bring forth an eerie glow.

His face, a blood red illuminated with a sickening purple glow, would suddenly take shape in front of her hiding spot as he peered in. With a toothy grin, the red man would finally speak.

"There you are."

 

[Zemi Madstone]

Purple glow. What was this? Why purple? Kssst, away with all glows, the dark and dank and gloom were her friends. Purple was not yellow but it was not much better. This planet with it's working gadgets and everyone with their lights and their far-talkers. See how far they could send their voices with their throats slit. Hand tightened on knife. What magic made the far-talkers go? She'd taken it apart, it was all wires inside. There was a thought for later, perhaps the wires could be used to communicate across distances, or silently like when they pressed the buttons to form the symbols that carried ideas. Yes and yes, this was surely so. Wires.

Suddenly a face! Red as blood, teeth shining sickly in the damned purple light, looking for her. Paint his face with her blood did he want? To the nether with that, she'd not gotten all the way here and done as the Spectre had asked to be killed by some bloodpainter! What was gained by painting with blood? Not symbols but the all and all? A spell to be stolen perhaps? Still this was an idle thought when it was time for action!

Any further back and she would surely be trapped, likewise staying and waiting for him to just reach in was not an option. With a hiss the girl flung the knife at his exposed face, quick and vicious and surprisingly on target for how little room she had to work in. Just behind it came the girl, boiling out of the tunnel all fists and teeth and elbows.

[member="Darth Ferus"]