Mercy

[Darth Abyss]

Katarr, The Blackout - Level 27/Little Nar Shaddaa

From all of the Free Cities, the Blackout was the one least visited by the Prophet who ruled it. If that was due to the fact that the half ruined drilling rig turned nightclub wasn't that appealing for a being like their dark guardian, or because the Blackout had run by itself for years without him even lifting a hand was a question the people couldn't answer, and knowing their leader they would rather not ask.

That didn't meant that the husk, the strange being that was responsible for founding and maintains the Free Cities wouldn't very occasionally come by to conduct business and meet contacts that his agents couldn't, the kinds of work that needed the presence of the Mindeater to get a certain point across.

Today was one of those occasions. A new gang of upstarts had made the mistake of trying to take over level 27, dubbed little Nar Shaddaa among the populace due to the almost eerie similarity to the slums of said smuggler moon, a few weeks ago, only for their leader to be swiftly, almost casually and publicly killed by a single raise of Abyss left. He had come to look if things had returned to normal since then, for once walking visibly among the makeshift houses inhabited by the people of the Blackout.

It looked normal, at least for Free City standards. The truly poor were wasting and starving, the dealers hustled through the streets with their head down and the rest was busy doing whatever they wanted, the one appealing, redeeming quality of the his cities for those that had no interest in crime and violence. As he walked he passed by a robbery taking place, a group of armed thugs blasting through the storefront of a small shop. He didn't even stopped, not even as the blaster bolts began to rain down on the bystanders, leaving many of them injured.

He might was their dark guardian, he was the one to keep the cities as whole on course, but they could either take care of their own small problems by themselves or die. Freedom was what he offered them, not mercy.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen twitched as his single pointed ear flicked to the sound of blaster fire. 'Free cities'. Nice in theory, far too sloppy in practice. That was why the Vitae valued Unity. Without it there were no laws. Without laws there was chaos. And chaos was what gave freedom a bad name. With a quick jump, he made his way to the roof of nearby shops and clubs before dashing to the trouble.

It was easy enough to find as the thugs were far from quiet, secure in their knowledge that in this place, the strong and opportunistic was who survived. "Now that's quite rude..." His hands moved quickly to the bracers on his forearms, working to load up a set of paralysis darts that he could use to knock out the ruffians. Chances are, they wouldn't see it coming. All it would take would be a few movements from the figure on the roof and they would start dropping like flies.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

It wasn't the ongoing fight that caught Abyss interest, but the glimpse of a unknown presence that provoked him to stop in his steps. From a distance he could make out a figure standing above the shop that moments ago was in the process of being robbed, feeling that something was coming for the thugs. The short trip seemed to be more noteworthy then he had expected at first, the more his focus moved on the shadow above, the more the extend of the presence strength became apparent. Places like the Free Cities caught many strong in the dark side, but rarely those walking in the light, or the brighter end of the twilight got lost in their dirty streets and always.

Yet he was not one to interfere. Every once in a while someone came along blinded by the desire to be a hero among insects, and Abyss allowed them to be a beacon of hope for the hopeless, as in the end they would only serve his darkness. They were blind to the bigger picture of course, unable to see that below the dirt and violence was a strange beauty forged out of junk and blood, outsider art and technology that had no place among the lawful of the galaxy, but it mattered little as long as they kept their focus on helping those in need.

Only when they began to preach false wisdom in the ears of his people, if they made the mistake of interfering with fragile balance that allowed the Free Cities to strive instead of deciding into utter chaos he would feel the need to lift his hand, a hard truth many so called heroes had to learn. Because in the Free Cities everyone knew: The Prophet's Hand is Endless.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Several small pfft's graced the air as the darts left his bracers. Then, one by one the thieves began to fall. Their bodies stiffened and their voices halted during cries of fear while they hit the ground. It was only as the last one dropped that Vulpesen left his perch. The dark coat flared around him as he descended and landed with a soft thud by their prone forms. "Maybe next time you'll learn not to act as uncivilized brutes." His head turned to the shop-keeps who had been offended by the hoodlums. "Do as you wish, just don't kill them. And if you truly want to send a message..." He reached into his dart belts and pulled out a few purple darts which he tossed to the patrons. "Stick them with these. I promise they'll never act up again." Vulpesen didn't believe in fixing the moment. Killing these men would only serve to rid the world of a symptom. But to strike the fear into their souls would make them spread the message. A message that evil, while profitable, came at a price. His job was to make that price too high for any to think about paying.

[member="Darth Abyss"]