Cira
Best Onion
A roar was heard through the hangar on the Spirit as a dropship was suddenly tilted onto its side. Alarms began to blare, emergency crews moving in to take a look at the mangled M47 that had crashed its way into the bay. It's bottom was porous, destroyed.
It had been to hell and back, and the pilot looked like he might be dead from sheer fear of not reaching the ship. To call it 'void-safe' was a long shot, but to call any place in that hangar safe was a long shot.
A scream was heard. A pained, animal scream of pure, unrestrained agony and sorrow. It was a physical noise, reverberating through the bodies of those around and tearing up the metal plates that made up the hangar deck.
Dark miasma rolled from the ship in waves, mixed rage and anguish fixating themselves in the minds of those around. The crews stopped, unwilling to get near whatever was inside.
Security teams rolled in, expecting that one of the ships had been hijacked during the evaction. The pilots were cut out, even as the sounds of caving metal could be heard.
Cracks were appearing in the thick armor of the dropships sides, whatever was inside clearly wanting out. The area couldn't be cleared fast enough as security protocols went into overdrive and anti-boarding parties were called in.
Military police weren't going to be enough for this, they'd merely been the first on scene. Soldiers liked to loot, even among the Protectorate, and that stuff had to be confiscated.
But what erupted from the side of that dropship wasn't a Sith. It was merely the armored form of the former Sergeant Major, helmet all but shattered by the force behind his Bellow.
He turned, looking to the dropship, and with an ear splitting shriek of metal on metal, simply forced it out of the hangar, letting it go into the void of space.
With that, he crumpled to the ground, utter exhaustion setting in as the teams moved in to secure him, unsure what had happened but really not wanting something so volatile on their deck.
Ayden would have to be called, whenever he returned. But for now, silence reigned as the defeated form of a once proud man was carried away to the med bay.
The light of his spirit had gone out that day, and there was nothing more for him to do but become the very thing he hated. An embodiment of vengeance, hellbent on taking back what was rightfully his.
Then... then he could return to the cold embrace of the ice, where he would dream no more and feel no pain.
"The feth is there to laugh about? " His voice would blast through the room " Ha-fething-ha. Don't have the bloody gorram body."
"Har har, karking dropship is in the void."
"What in the kark does Jedi ability have to do with anything anymore? Can't bloody well damn protect poodooe, can I?"
"My bloody duty is to protect those I care about; get the kark out of here with that sentimental bullpoodoo."
"Well bloody someone has to keep me company."
"It's because I'm a bloody gods damned kark up, that's why."
"I shoulda bloody well told you to stay back is what I should have done. Everyone is bloody dying." He shook his head. "Whatever, I'm done with this conversation. Bloody well leave me be. Karkin' all anyone does anyway."
"Yeah, guess you were the way you were for a reason. Musta known what I didn't."
"Avoid bloody letting someone carry your loved ones body away like a KARKING TROPHY.
Kark off, ghost. Don't bloody need this."
"Stop asking obvious bullpoodoo."
"What good is a ghost gonna do me?
Let me talk to myself? Make people think I'm crazy?
Yeah, really need that."
"It was bloody well entirely my fault. I left you alone. I pushed you to distraction. Karking all my gorram fault and this is my consolation prize? A bloody ghost come to tell me everything's gonna be OK? poodoo ain't ever been OK, and just when I thought it would be, bloody well got taken away dinnit?"
Sarge glares. "For someone who painstakingly controlled everything, yer awfully bloody unhelpful, aren't ya?" Inhaling sharply, he settled himself back down onto the chair and hefted a dumbell for an overhead tricep extension.
"Bloody well getting your body back is what I'm karking doing. Everyone else gets to say goodbye to their dead, why the kark should I be any different."
"May as well line their karking halls with blood. Tired of their gorram games and their cutesy little egos. Rather bash their karkin' 'eads in." Every rep elicited a very ornery grunt from the lone man bloody talking to himself in the empty gym.
Ayden made sure everyone was leaving him alone. The security set outside certainly helped keep them away though.
"Take what I love, bloody well take what they love and then some. Vacate their braincases, the lot of 'em."
"Can't vacate anythin' with no saber. Bullet works better anyway. Clean, efficient. Can't stop a gorram bullet if the caliber is large enough. I don't care if I have to put an artillery piece on a bipod, I'll karkin' do what I gotta."
Sarge snorts, letting the weight hit the matt with a dull thud, eyes glaring straight ahead and into the mirror that lined the wall in front of him. "Oh, so that's what it takes to get ya all smirkey and bothered."
Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward, hands wringing themselves together with vice grips.
"Oh, yes. Now that you're dead you can just tell me all your secrets cause they do me so much bloody good." He inhaled sharply again, fists clenching and causing his muscles to visibly ripple beneath the flesh of his forearm.
"About bloody time."
"Nothing. Just aren't tryna make me feel better, like I ain't some crock of gobpoodooe who can't do anythin' right." His fists clenched violently again before he stood and hefted the weight, moving to set it back on the rack and giving her a death glare.
The irony wasn't lost on him. "Couldn't talk this much when you were alive, could ya, huh?"
"The hell is that even supposed to mean? Do I have to rub you to get three wishes? Is that what this bloody is? A gorram childrens book?" He snorted, hefting more weights before going back to take a seat.
"The hell you here to tell me anyway?"
"I swear to god if you say those words and poof, I'll karkin' put a bullet in my head...
Or have the worst emotional bloody breakdown of me life. I ain't quite decided yet. One might follah the other, iunno yet."
Sarge actually snorted in amusement at that. "Always been one, darlin'. Always will be."
"I don't cotton." He mumbles, forgetting the weights in his hands as he stared at her with tired, pained eyes.
Sarge stared back at her, as if the simple act would will her ghost into physical existence. "I'm reliable, darlin'. We both know that. Ain't ever been anythin' less. Can always count on me to be me."
His barrel chest rose steadily, before it lowered, a careful breath washing out. "I'm getting you back, you know that?" He says flatly, voice an emotionless void not unbecoming his stoic face.
Sarge gave his own nod, as if happy to see her agreement. "You aren't staying dead. No bloody way I'm letting another person I love die. Ain't bloody karking happening."
"What."
"No bloody way. Findin' yer body and I'll bloody well find a way to get you back. Ayden's been alive as long as me - older actually - but he's bloody well not been on ice the entire time. I don't know what he knows, but he knows something."
"I bloody already ordered a palace destroyed, at this point I'll burn all of Coruscant to get what I want. It was right there, in my karking hands and it was torn away."
"Never is, but if it takes me two more gorram years to get to her I'll bloody do it." He simply gave her a glare. "They had to time to escape. Best I could do. Done bloody playin' games."
"Probably about the only thing that got through to you."
"I really don't. Other than that when I kissed you you didn't protest enough to mean it."
"Always were but never were." He snorted, eyes tracking her slowly.
"At least you know what being difficult is like. Ain't more difficult than bein' dead."
"Nice to know it only took you bein' a ghost to hear you laugh." Sarge somehow managed to smile, even if it was sad.
"Don't you dare do this to me."
It had been to hell and back, and the pilot looked like he might be dead from sheer fear of not reaching the ship. To call it 'void-safe' was a long shot, but to call any place in that hangar safe was a long shot.
A scream was heard. A pained, animal scream of pure, unrestrained agony and sorrow. It was a physical noise, reverberating through the bodies of those around and tearing up the metal plates that made up the hangar deck.
Dark miasma rolled from the ship in waves, mixed rage and anguish fixating themselves in the minds of those around. The crews stopped, unwilling to get near whatever was inside.
Security teams rolled in, expecting that one of the ships had been hijacked during the evaction. The pilots were cut out, even as the sounds of caving metal could be heard.
Cracks were appearing in the thick armor of the dropships sides, whatever was inside clearly wanting out. The area couldn't be cleared fast enough as security protocols went into overdrive and anti-boarding parties were called in.
Military police weren't going to be enough for this, they'd merely been the first on scene. Soldiers liked to loot, even among the Protectorate, and that stuff had to be confiscated.
But what erupted from the side of that dropship wasn't a Sith. It was merely the armored form of the former Sergeant Major, helmet all but shattered by the force behind his Bellow.
He turned, looking to the dropship, and with an ear splitting shriek of metal on metal, simply forced it out of the hangar, letting it go into the void of space.
With that, he crumpled to the ground, utter exhaustion setting in as the teams moved in to secure him, unsure what had happened but really not wanting something so volatile on their deck.
Ayden would have to be called, whenever he returned. But for now, silence reigned as the defeated form of a once proud man was carried away to the med bay.
The light of his spirit had gone out that day, and there was nothing more for him to do but become the very thing he hated. An embodiment of vengeance, hellbent on taking back what was rightfully his.
Then... then he could return to the cold embrace of the ice, where he would dream no more and feel no pain.
********
That upturn crook at the corner of her lips would mock him.
"The feth is there to laugh about? " His voice would blast through the room " Ha-fething-ha. Don't have the bloody gorram body."
"Har har, karking dropship is in the void."
Cira's from would seemingly blink slowly.
So you'll just lash out?Where is that Jedi ability to reign in your emotions?
"What in the kark does Jedi ability have to do with anything anymore? Can't bloody well damn protect poodooe, can I?"
You can't protect everyone. That isn't your duty.
"My bloody duty is to protect those I care about; get the kark out of here with that sentimental bullpoodoo."
Cira would seemingly blink slowly again, and her brows rose. Sentimental? Well, never had that one tossed at me before.
"Aren't you supposed to be dead anyway?"Am I?
You certainly do enjoy carrying your demons.
"Well bloody someone has to keep me company."
What is it that you are really angry about?
Is it that I'm dead or is it that you're angry at yourself?
"It's because I'm a bloody gods damned kark up, that's why."
And how is this your fault?
"Bloody well deserve to be alone at this point."And why is that? How is this any of your fault at all? Circumstance played out that way -- and I knew the risks of dropping dirt-side to fight. It wasn't the first time, you can bet on that.
"I shoulda bloody well told you to stay back is what I should have done. Everyone is bloody dying." He shook his head. "Whatever, I'm done with this conversation. Bloody well leave me be. Karkin' all anyone does anyway."
You think I would have listened? Leave you be? All anyone does anyways? That isn't like you.
"Yeah, guess you were the way you were for a reason. Musta known what I didn't."
That being?
"Better to not let anyone in."You don't really believe that.
"No, I don't. but it's nice to bloody know there's a way to avoid this."Avoid letting others in? That's impossible. No matter how hard one tries.
"Avoid bloody letting someone carry your loved ones body away like a KARKING TROPHY.
Kark off, ghost. Don't bloody need this."
Then what do you need?
"Bloody well don't need you, apparently."Are you sure?
"Karking no""Stop asking obvious bullpoodoo."
Then why do you want me to go away? When all you've done was to get met to stay?
"What good is a ghost gonna do me?
Let me talk to myself? Make people think I'm crazy?
Yeah, really need that."
I thought you were a little crazy already to begin with. Cira smirks a bit.
Sarge grumbles.Cira lets her hand seemingly appear to reach out to cafune the short cropped hair.
...It wasn't your fault. Let it go.
Sarge inhales deeply, eyes flashing in barely restrained rage."It was bloody well entirely my fault. I left you alone. I pushed you to distraction. Karking all my gorram fault and this is my consolation prize? A bloody ghost come to tell me everything's gonna be OK? poodoo ain't ever been OK, and just when I thought it would be, bloody well got taken away dinnit?"
There were circumstances beyond your control. The Force null barrier to begin with.
Sarge glares. "For someone who painstakingly controlled everything, yer awfully bloody unhelpful, aren't ya?" Inhaling sharply, he settled himself back down onto the chair and hefted a dumbell for an overhead tricep extension.
"Bloody well getting your body back is what I'm karking doing. Everyone else gets to say goodbye to their dead, why the kark should I be any different."
Would you rather I say something else? Cira comes over to lower herself in front of him, those wide golden eyes staring at his own.
Kill them all, perhaps?
"Far more reasonable than 'calm down' right now."
You call that reasonable?
"May as well line their karking halls with blood. Tired of their gorram games and their cutesy little egos. Rather bash their karkin' 'eads in." Every rep elicited a very ornery grunt from the lone man bloody talking to himself in the empty gym.
Ayden made sure everyone was leaving him alone. The security set outside certainly helped keep them away though.
"Take what I love, bloody well take what they love and then some. Vacate their braincases, the lot of 'em."
That is not the way Preacher acts. You have yet to use your saber against anyone, do not do that now.
Do not go down that path you swore you would not go.
"Can't vacate anythin' with no saber. Bullet works better anyway. Clean, efficient. Can't stop a gorram bullet if the caliber is large enough. I don't care if I have to put an artillery piece on a bipod, I'll karkin' do what I gotta."
Cira can't help but perk the corner of her mouth at that. Well... that's mighty impressive, I guess.
Sarge snorts, letting the weight hit the matt with a dull thud, eyes glaring straight ahead and into the mirror that lined the wall in front of him. "Oh, so that's what it takes to get ya all smirkey and bothered."
Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward, hands wringing themselves together with vice grips.
No, that requires something else, her familiar form would come to seemingly rest against the mirror, watching him, arms crossed just under her breasts.
"Oh, yes. Now that you're dead you can just tell me all your secrets cause they do me so much bloody good." He inhaled sharply again, fists clenching and causing his muscles to visibly ripple beneath the flesh of his forearm.
Cira gives a sad smile, Doesn't quite work that way.
"About bloody time."
Of what?
"Nothing. Just aren't tryna make me feel better, like I ain't some crock of gobpoodooe who can't do anythin' right." His fists clenched violently again before he stood and hefted the weight, moving to set it back on the rack and giving her a death glare.
The irony wasn't lost on him. "Couldn't talk this much when you were alive, could ya, huh?"
I can only reveal as much as you want me to, Sarge, she told him.
That depends on you.
"The hell is that even supposed to mean? Do I have to rub you to get three wishes? Is that what this bloody is? A gorram childrens book?" He snorted, hefting more weights before going back to take a seat.
"The hell you here to tell me anyway?"
Cira would slowly step closer to him, until she once again came crouching down in front of him, What do you think?
"I swear to god if you say those words and poof, I'll karkin' put a bullet in my head...
Or have the worst emotional bloody breakdown of me life. I ain't quite decided yet. One might follah the other, iunno yet."
Don't be an ass.
Sarge actually snorted in amusement at that. "Always been one, darlin'. Always will be."
... if that is even possible for you, she added after that.
"I don't cotton." He mumbles, forgetting the weights in his hands as he stared at her with tired, pained eyes.
Cira would stare at him with only the subtle amount of emotion bathing her expression.
At least you are consistent.
Sarge stared back at her, as if the simple act would will her ghost into physical existence. "I'm reliable, darlin'. We both know that. Ain't ever been anythin' less. Can always count on me to be me."
That I can. she'd say softly. That I can. she'd lower her eyes for a moment, only to lift them a second later.
His barrel chest rose steadily, before it lowered, a careful breath washing out. "I'm getting you back, you know that?" He says flatly, voice an emotionless void not unbecoming his stoic face.
Cira would give a slow nod, head lowering a bit as her long bangs would seemingly fall over her eyes.
I know.
Sarge gave his own nod, as if happy to see her agreement. "You aren't staying dead. No bloody way I'm letting another person I love die. Ain't bloody karking happening."
Cira 's head would rise at that, perhaps in question or in confusion at his words.
"What."
I'm not staying dead?
"No bloody way. Findin' yer body and I'll bloody well find a way to get you back. Ayden's been alive as long as me - older actually - but he's bloody well not been on ice the entire time. I don't know what he knows, but he knows something."
Are you sure you want to be messing with that kind of dark?
"I bloody already ordered a palace destroyed, at this point I'll burn all of Coruscant to get what I want. It was right there, in my karking hands and it was torn away."
Cira would shake her head slowly, Don't involve those who are innocent of it. It isn't their fault.
And there is no guarantee that I'll come back as the Cira you know.
"Never is, but if it takes me two more gorram years to get to her I'll bloody do it." He simply gave her a glare. "They had to time to escape. Best I could do. Done bloody playin' games."
Heh..
You are persistent.
"Probably about the only thing that got through to you."
You know better than that..
"I really don't. Other than that when I kissed you you didn't protest enough to mean it."
...you also have a knack at pissing me off.
"I prided myself on it. Emotion is emotion."and you sure did enjoy pressing that button.
"I enjoyed pressing all your buttons. I just enjoyed you in general."Not surprised, she says wryly, as her form seemingly starts to slowly stand up.
"Always were but never were." He snorted, eyes tracking her slowly.
What is that supposed to mean?
"Means exactly what I said. I chose the words for a reason."You're being difficult again.
"At least you know what being difficult is like. Ain't more difficult than bein' dead."
Cira pauses, blinks.... then laughs.
"Nice to know it only took you bein' a ghost to hear you laugh." Sarge somehow managed to smile, even if it was sad.
Cira 's laughter slowly began to fade, and she gave him a solemn smile.
Who says I'm a ghost?
"Don't you dare do this to me."
Her voice would flow over [member="Sarge Potteiger"] with a solemn tone, a hint of a melancholy smile fading in its wake.
Don't do what?
Don't do what?
