Miss Blonde
Trying to be straight in a crooked Galaxy
Prelude
(Optional)"How people can wake up every morning and say 'Oh boy! A new day!' That is an enigma to me." Laying on the plusred velvet couch of a therapist's office, the once infamous crime lord Miss Blonde had willingly fallen so far.
"My kids, my employees, my comrades, my friends, they all look up to me. They see this goodness in me and tell me that I'm a good person, that I'm a good mother, this shining beacon of an individual, but that's just it doc. I can't see it, I can't see it after everything I've done. All the people I've killed, all the death I've cause is rote within my mind playing over and over again." A heavy sigh left Patricia's lips as she turned her head to face away from her therapist.
Her eyes tracked up the wall until they met a particular painting that seemed out of place from the others surrounding it. Where the encircling paintings were all of calm landscape that fit the decor and general vibe of peace and serenity, this one spoke to her somewhat. She seemed almost drawn in and hypnotized by it, but despite its allure she kept speaking to the business casual dressed shrink in the chair near her.
"But I want to be that person they see me as. I want to be this person who feels good about themselves and can be proud of their life. I want it so god damn bad." She said in a longing voice.
"Do you think you deserve to be that person?" A plain and drab voice retorted back.
There was a pause in the air that lingered almost awkwardly. A silent tension that could either be brought on by deep thought or a reluctance to answer the question that had been asked, and at the last second before the therapist decided to move on. The question was answered.
"No one deserves anything, doc. No one is entitled to life or happiness. I've learned that over the years. That good people die early while the wicked ones go on to raise kids and be successful. The path to salvation is built atop the graves of the righteous and just." She said as her eyes left the picture and turned back to her therapist.
"So the question shouldn't be do I think I deserve to be that person. It should be do I know how to be that person?" She said in a tone that was almost uncertain with herself.
"And the answer to that question is no. I don't know how. I don't know if I ever can be that person. All I know and understand is the life I left." Patricia said as she stared the man in his face.
The therapist then gave a slight gulp before clearing his throat. This woman was dangerous, that much was certain. She was calculating and despite her emotional and psychological shortcomings within her identity crisis, she was a monolith of ruthless efficiency. So it was with great caution that he asked his next question.
"Do you miss it? Your old life that is." He said with a cautious tone.
Taking her eyes off the therapist the woman looked up at the ceiling and chuckled a bit before turning silent once more.
Every single moment of every single day." She said with a small humor filled scoff of self realization.
"Do you ever think about going back to it?" He once more asked.
"Only enough to dip a toe once in a while." Patricia said with the faintest of smiles.
"My kids, my employees, my comrades, my friends, they all look up to me. They see this goodness in me and tell me that I'm a good person, that I'm a good mother, this shining beacon of an individual, but that's just it doc. I can't see it, I can't see it after everything I've done. All the people I've killed, all the death I've cause is rote within my mind playing over and over again." A heavy sigh left Patricia's lips as she turned her head to face away from her therapist.
Her eyes tracked up the wall until they met a particular painting that seemed out of place from the others surrounding it. Where the encircling paintings were all of calm landscape that fit the decor and general vibe of peace and serenity, this one spoke to her somewhat. She seemed almost drawn in and hypnotized by it, but despite its allure she kept speaking to the business casual dressed shrink in the chair near her.
"But I want to be that person they see me as. I want to be this person who feels good about themselves and can be proud of their life. I want it so god damn bad." She said in a longing voice.
"Do you think you deserve to be that person?" A plain and drab voice retorted back.
There was a pause in the air that lingered almost awkwardly. A silent tension that could either be brought on by deep thought or a reluctance to answer the question that had been asked, and at the last second before the therapist decided to move on. The question was answered.
"No one deserves anything, doc. No one is entitled to life or happiness. I've learned that over the years. That good people die early while the wicked ones go on to raise kids and be successful. The path to salvation is built atop the graves of the righteous and just." She said as her eyes left the picture and turned back to her therapist.
"So the question shouldn't be do I think I deserve to be that person. It should be do I know how to be that person?" She said in a tone that was almost uncertain with herself.
"And the answer to that question is no. I don't know how. I don't know if I ever can be that person. All I know and understand is the life I left." Patricia said as she stared the man in his face.
The therapist then gave a slight gulp before clearing his throat. This woman was dangerous, that much was certain. She was calculating and despite her emotional and psychological shortcomings within her identity crisis, she was a monolith of ruthless efficiency. So it was with great caution that he asked his next question.
"Do you miss it? Your old life that is." He said with a cautious tone.
Taking her eyes off the therapist the woman looked up at the ceiling and chuckled a bit before turning silent once more.
Every single moment of every single day." She said with a small humor filled scoff of self realization.
"Do you ever think about going back to it?" He once more asked.
"Only enough to dip a toe once in a while." Patricia said with the faintest of smiles.
On The Shores of Cobaltia
The cold and unforgiving cocking of a Slugthrower broke the still night air of Alderaan followed by the calculated steps of small dress shoes hitting stone filled cavernous floors. Slowly the footsteps increased drawing closer and closer to what was revealed to be four people of a human variety bound and pushed down onto their knees. Surrounding them were men and women dressed in the black suits and ties of what could only be identified as gangster apparel, that or from the Agent Smith Fall Fashion Line, but considering that they were armed it was safe to assume they weren't Matrix enthusiasts. "A long time ago I had a friend who betrayed me, stole from me, and turned his back on his family and everyone who cared about him. Now he was the best slicer I had ever seen, and really all he did was break a computer system and steal a rather small amount of credits. Not like he killed anyone really." The voice of Miss Blonde carried out bouncing off the stone walls of their currently unmarked location.
Now standing directly in front of the four bound humans, their faces and eyes showed the deep and frightening amounts of dread and terror that gripped them. They were all but putty in Blonde's small hands, and she'd get what she wanted out of them. She would knead them and break them down until they were nothing. Just because the woman had retired it didn't mean she was dead or was copacetic with people stealing from her.
"What do you think I did about that betrayal? I want you to guess." She said with almost an upbeat tone to her prisoners.
There was a pause in the room before the female among them, a brown haired woman in her early thirties spoke up.
"You let him go! You gave him another chance!" The woman exclaimed in a frightened voice.
Letting out a little chuckle, Miss Blonde circled around the group until she stood behind them out of sight.
"In a way, yes. But also... no." The sound of a hammer thrumming backwards echoed in the chamber followed by the illuminating flashes and barks of a pistol roaring within a confined space.
The slugs impacted the woman and she fell to the ground with deep wounds to the torso and abdomen. She was too weakened and caught off guard by the pieces of metal ripping through her to scream. But that didn't stop her friends and fellow captives to do it on her behalf as she struggled and bled into the earth.
So someone answer me!! What! Did I!! Do!!." Her loud and heavy words echoed off the wall of the cave mixing with the screams of her terrified victims.
As she eventually came back around to face the three screaming men and the bleeding woman she let out a sigh as she leveled her pistol and pumped an additional two rounds into the wounded captive to finish her off and leave only silence among the other three.
"So I'm going to ask this once. You little drones who jumped ship to work on behalf of nobody Sith Lords stole something from me. Now normally the government I work for would want innocent little pawns like you to go free, you were just in it for the money, you have a sick kid, you're taking care of your parents. Believe me, I've heard every single excuse in the book. But the thing is you stole from me, you crossed me, and I am not as forgiving as others." She said her words now returning to the ruthless demeanor one was used to hearing with Blonde.
"So I'll ask again before I get angry. What did I do in recompense of that betrayal?" There were a few sniffles and silent sobs of the three remaining men when blood began to pool around their knees.
"You killed him." One of the men said in a half choking sob.
In immediate response, Miss Blonde chuckled once more as she stepped up to the kneeling man.
"Nope." She said as the pistol was flushed to the man's head only to have the trigger be pulled shortly thereafter.
Blood and flesh sprayed in the air as a dead and limp body was forever forced to the ground. With the dead man's eyes staring open and unmoving at the rock covered ceiling above the masked woman's head, she let out another scoff at the pitiful sight beneath her.
"Where's my @&$#ing book?" She asked the remaining two men in a deep in sinister tone.
"We took it to some sith here on Alderaan! He has it! We promise we were just doing our jobs! Please don't kill us! His name is Darth Pax! He runs a bar as a front! At the spaceport near Colbaltia, called the Mourning Maiden!! That's all we know! Please!" Pleading for his life, the man broke down in tears as she bent over to look at the two.
"Let me tell you what I did. I didn't kill my friend. No, I respected him too much. I killed his friends, his family, burnt his business to the ground along with everyone inside it. I took it all away from him." The blood speckled crime lord then stood herself back up and turned her back to the two of them.
"But here's the kicker. I respected him. I don't respect you two." As she began to walk away from the duo there were cries and sobs for help. Pleading that only fell on deaf ears.
"Kill them both." She said with a lack of care for their desperate cries.
Stepping out into the cold night air of Alderaan, her black visors reflected off the moon and stars revealing the surroundings of an old and depleted phrik mine that had been stripped of any rare metals and forgotten by time. Out here there was only the stars and moons to listen to the screams that came from the tunnel behind her, and waiting for them were four unmarked graves being dug by the hired help Blonde often kept on retainer for such cases like this. Now all there was to do was wait for her more elite members to approach her so they could get on with the task at hand.
[member="Formorta"] [member="Dogpaw"] @Nate the Bounty Hunter
