Private Pest Control

[Ara Sheridan]

Ara watched in silence as the slavers moved around, getting ready to roll out and transport the containers. The ship was loading them way too quickly, it was going to take off soon. The engines were already spooling up. But there were way too many people around it for her to move in now. If the dude wasn't going to do something soon-

<”Sabotaging the generator now,”>

The lights cut out, leaving only the dim ambient light from the rest of the lower levels to give some semblance of sight. That was more than enough for her. She moved like a loth-cat through the container area toward the freighter getting ready for take-off. :: Freighter's getting ready to kark off, moving to intercept. :: She spoke into her commlink as she reached it, sneaking past the guys outside it before she slipped in via the boarding ramp on the side.

What she wasn't expecting inside was the man she saw earlier. "What the kriff... who are you?" He spoke up, that same grizzled voice bringing back the haunting memories of that evening. A few others in the ship quickly came over to see what was going on and soon she was surrounded by five people. "You... you look familiar, girl." He spoke as his eyes narrowed. "Don't matter, clamp her and throw her in the brig. We can take care of her later."

Her fear shattered the moment a hand rested on her shoulder. A scowl formed and rage filled her eyes. In an instant, the small area was bathed in green light as Ara swung around, glaring at the man who touched her as he stared at where his hand used to be. He didn't even get to scream before his head was severed as well. "A Jedi?!" The man muttered as his heart sank. The rest of his goons were dispatched just as quickly as Ara jumped from one to the other, butchering them like animals until only the man remained.

"Don't remember me, huh?!" She barked, holding her blade to the man's throat. "You remember this?" She pointed to her scarred face before her blade shifted to his stomach. "You remember that shot in your gut?!"

The memories came back to the man. Anger and amusement mixed with the fear as he looked down at the girl. "Now I remember, you yeah. Karkin' hell. Small galaxy, huh?" Ara noticed a realization in his eyes. He knew he was going to die. But in that moment, she began to question herself as she looked at the bodies around her. The murders she committed. This wasn't right. This wasn't the Jedi way. She needed to be better than this.

"I remember how it was too, hehe..." His voice drew her thoughts back to reality, before a hard punch knocked her down to the ground. Before she could regain her senses, his hands were wrapped around her neck as he pinned her down. "What's the matter, huh?! You think a laser sword's gonna help you?! How many friends did you bring along, girl? Enough to save you?" His grip on her neck was tightening bit by bit. She felt her lips and face go numb as she tried to kick and punch at him to no avail. Fear filled her eyes as she stared up at him. But she forced her eyes closed as she tried her best to focus. "... I... don't need... savin'..." Her lightsaber flew into her hand and ignited through his chest.

His eyes went wide for a moment as his grasp on her loosened. Ara kicked him off her and quickly got back up, glaring down at him with shock and anger. "Kark you!" She shouted through her coughing fit as she brought the blade down on him. Bit by bit, she carved away at him until she finished the job with a swipe at his neck.

The Zabrak collapsed to the ground for a moment as a hurricane of emotions hit her. But she forced herself up and to the cockpit to shut the ship down before she hurried over to the facility. :: Ship... disabled... comin' to you. :: She wiped at her cheeks as she ran as quickly as she could to help the stranger.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

Landing on his feet with a muffled thud after slipping into the structure via the broken skylight, The Misfit found himself inside what used to be the administrative wing of the large warehouse; thick layers of dust coated the office broken down and decaying office furniture. In response to the low visibility conditions he had created himself, he pulled his helmet mounted macrobinoculars down; a grainy, green hue was cast over his vision shortly afterwards, allowing him better visibility.

Not long after the kid had infiltrated the compound, he heard the familiar voice of the Jedi over his helmet comlink.

:: Freighter's getting ready to kark off, moving to intercept. ::

<”Understood. Initiating jamming sequence,”> Kayl responded back in a whisper; lowering himself to a crouch, and resting his back against the wall behind him, he pulled out the comlink device he had took from the sentry he had killed a moment ago, and began tinkering with it. Turning it on, the kid eavesdropped on the chatter occuring between the thugs in the area while he tried to figure out the frequency bandwidth of the comlink they were using.

They did not sound distressed yet, unaware of their intrusion for now. One of them, with a monotonous tone of voice, pointed out the generator had “crapped out” again, and ordered a few of his lackeys to get it fixed up; it appeared a power outage was a common occurrence. It would help him remain undetected just for a little longer and place himself in an even more advantageous position.

But that would not be for long, then, for the thugs to discover the body, he thought; he had left a trail of blood while dragging the dead tail-head behind cover and concealment, after all.

Disregarding the rest of the chatter, the kid punched in the frequency of their comlinks onto his computer terminal built into his left vambrace with haste, after flipping the screen open; then initiated the jamming sequence with the push of a button.

Targeting the specific bandwidth their comlinks used, he would suppress only the thugs’ forms of communications while keeping their own clear of any interference. He tossed away the dead tail-head’s comlink device as he stood back on his feet; he no longer had a use for the device.

Bringing his carbine to bear once more, the kid reached for its silencer from one of his pouches, and screwed it on the barrel as he cautiously made his way towards a nearby doorway; his sensors were picking up light sources coming from further down that corridor.

Glowrods.

Stepping into the hallway with the carbine raised, he regarded his options as he moved at a relatively cautious pace down the hallway to meet and neutralize the thugs; although he did not know the layout of the entire building, he knew he was at the top floor, the administrative part of the building to be more specific. The ideal course of action was to clear the structure of its inhabitants from top to bottom. He would have his rear secure and would have room to fall back to if he needed.

One floor at a time, then, he thought.

Moving like a spectre in the shadows, The Misfit drew closer and closer to the source of the lights nearby; they were right around the corner. Leaning out just enough to expose the silenced barrel of his carbine and his helmet visor to acquire the targets, The Misfit was quick to conquer the corner; two golden bolts shot out the barrel at a near whisper-quiet whistle. He rounded the corner as the pair of patrolling sentries further down the corridor fell onto the ground on their backs, unmoving.

Again he felt the same feeling as before when he had neutralized the sentry by the power generator; he couldn’t help but realize that as walked past the bodies on the floor, following the layout of the chamfered corridor.

He felt something emerge from deep within him; it was craving release. It pushed him to go further onwards, to find and claim more; more lives. He felt invigorated, very much alive, and somewhat thrilled. How helpless they were against him; roaming the hallways as blind as bats. And how easily their lives were snuffed out at the squeeze of a hair trigger, or the dash of a knife finding purchase with one of their arteries.

A new desire, a very guilty pleasure of his at that, was just now born inside him; it began a conflict with his conscience within him. He was wrong with how he felt, with killing that thug. It felt “right” because she was a thug, a criminal; she may have deserved it, and so did the rest he was going to kill today, but…

It could not be so easy, so carefree, to claim the life of a person. It felt so wrong.

But then why did it feel so good?

Was this his true self? Did he suppress this desire within him and now, was it trying to break free?

Was this who he was supposed to be?

If he had developed this… desire, early on in his life, would he still be The Misfit he was known to be by his clanmates? Or would they have accepted him as one of their own?

Although the voices coming from behind a double door before him tore him away from his thoughts and had him focus on the here-and-now, his conscience and logic on one hand, and this… guilty pleasure on the other, were now engaged in a conflict within him.

Taking up breaching positions behind the door, The Misfit took brief moment to listen in.

”Can’t karkin’ believe it! Right when the race was in full swing!”

”God, shut the kark up we get it, ‘total bummer,’ boo-hoo,” the monotonous voice of a man from earlier The Misfit heard over the comlink said derisively. ”So what if you couldn’t see who gained the lead? You can watch a play-back like any other motherkarker that somehow missed the moment,”

”It’s not the same!” the other one argued. ”It’s not the same as seeing it live! And kark that overgrown dumbass lizard Solmon! We needed a new generator since the past two months!”

”Well ain’t that the truth…” a feminine voice concurred with the other.

”All I’m saying is, we need some motherkarkin’ quality, of karkin’ life here! It still smells moldy in here!” the man continued, taking encouragement from the others in the room extending their agreement in the forms of grunts and the likes, concurring with him.

The Misfit had heard enough. There had to be at least a dozen in there; lots of activity in the room. Letting go of the handguard of his carbine, he reached for a thermal detonator from his belt as he positioned himself right in front of the double doors; the hinges were on the other side.

:: Ship... disabled... comin' to you. ::

Prepared to breach and clear, barely registering Ara’s message at the heat of the moment, The Misfit landed a hefty kick on the door; the wooden doors groaned loudly in protest as they swiveled open. He could see all the faces inside turn in unison at him as he threw the detonator deep into the room in one swift motion, following the kick. Several of them reached for their guns as the rest were taken aback by surprise.

Training his weapon at the detonator mid air, a golden particle bolt shot out the barrel of his carbine at the squeeze of its trigger; a tremendous explosion followed in its wake not a moment after the round hit the target, briefly shaking the structure to its foundations.

Now the fun really began.

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Her heart was heavy and her mind was a whirlwind as she reached the main warehouse building. She could feel the suffering in the containers around her. She wanted to free them, to cut open the locks and let them scatter. But it was far too dangerous now. They deserved freedom, a chance to get away from all of this and back to their lives... maybe even get back at the slavers...

This is wrong.

She wasn't supposed to crave death and revenge. She shouldn't have killed those people. She should have felt bad when she killed those people... but she didn't. She leaned against a nearby container and dropped her lightsaber to clutch at her face as her breathing picked up. She tried to force herself to feel bad for them. For the man who wronged her. What he did to her. But she couldn't She couldn't feel bad for hacking them up and leaving them a mangled mess, no matter how much she tried to tell herself that it was wrong.

She was right.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as her breathing refused to calm down. She was hyperventilating as she wrestled with her thoughts. She held her breath up for a few moments then let herself breathe again, forcing deep breaths and letting them out slowly.

Focus. Focus on them. Emotion, yet peace. They need you.

An explosion lit up the area for a moment, drawing her to an upper level where flames were dancing on the inside. The screams of gangsters burning alive reached her ears and she found herself listening to it. "Come on, Sheridan. Move it. Get up. Get up." With one last deep breath she forced herself up and picked up her weapon, once more rushing into the fray. The warehouse was shrouded in darkness as she entered through one of the massive doors, her eyes closed as she tried to get used to the darkness.

Emotion, yet peace.

She took another deep breath as the voices bounced around on the inside of the building. As she drew the Force through herself, however, the area began to take shape for her. Vague forms and feelings of what was around her. And colours. Colours of fear, anger, greed and sadistic amusement. Colours taking the shape of people around her.

Is this how Iris sees the world?

She pushed in, taking hold of her hilt with both hands until she reached the nearest thug. He was unaware of her. She pulled back and smashed her hilt against his head, knocking him to the ground in an instant. With the Force coursing through her, she focused on taking down each one after the other. Not by killing them. By doing the right thing. Her progress was slow, but with the darkness as her cover, she could focus on being a light. Not by taking lives, but by rendering them unable to make more trouble. The faint sounds of a blaster firing reached her ears, only for more pronounced blasterfire to sound off as well.

The people were becoming distressed. The thugs were becoming more alert. She pushed on in hopes of knocking them all out before needing to use her weapon again. One turned right at her but didn't get a chance as she smashed him through the face and wrapped her arms around his throat to choke him out.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

Torn asunder by the explosion, the ferroconcrete floor in what appeared to be the recreational room for the thugs to take a moment’s respite in their daily activities and relax, collapsed loudly; the torn and mangled corpses of those that did not survive the initial explosion rolled into the floor below alongside the debris, with survivors fortunate enough to escape the initial blast with flesh wounds, fell alongside their killed friends and colleagues.

A heavy cloud of dust, accompanied by the dark gray smoke from the brightly burning and dancing flames, fuming off of furniture and the likes, mixed and settled in the air in both the recreational area and the room below.

His carbine at the ready, The Misfit took several steps forward towards the massive hole on the floor; he could see several silhouettes slowly trying to dig themselves out of the debris. Swiftly taking aim at the closest one, the kid squeezed back the hair trigger of his weapon several times, stopping only when the silhouette ceased movement; their pained yelps, screams and pleas for mercy filled his ears with each shot.

With one last particle bolt, closely accompanied with a whisper-quiet whistle, the room fell into an eerie silence; only the crackling of the spreading flames disturbed the stillness and quiet that befell the room in the aftermath of a very much one-sided "exchange".

Sparing a glance at his surroundings inside the completely and utterly destroyed recreational area in search of more thugs to kill, he could find none; and as the flames pressed on further, it was time to move on to the next room, and continue clearing this compound of the resident scum within.

Lowering himself to a crouch, the kid slid down into the room below without trouble; the torn ferroconcrete chunks underneath his boots crunched and crumbled loudly upon landing on his feet. Raising himself from his crouched stance, he spared a glance at the bodies strewn around him across the debris covered floor before starting to “control” his kills; small to large chunks of flesh tore free from their bodies in the wake of a particle bolt finding purchase with the corpses.

Most of them lay on the ground lifeless, their deaths ensured, prior to The Misfit checking whether they still drew breath or not.

Save for one.

The thug howled in terrible pain; The Misfit came to a brief pause at the sight of the wounded man’s attempt at scurrying away from him at a crawl. He found it to be an amusing sight to behold; a man who had struck fear into many by his outlook alone, a hardened criminal, was trying to scurry away in complete fear for his life. The kid approached him with deliberate steps as he observed him; the wounded thug deliriously begged for mercy as the fires from the room above them casted The Misfit’s tall shadow over him. The closer he got to him, the larger his shadow grew.

Grown tired of his pleas, and the fact that the man refused to understand and make his peace with the inevitable outcome, the kid clipped his carbine to his belt; reaching down for one of his ankles, he yanked the thug towards himself. He protested with more meaningless pleas and shouts; sat crouched on his back, The Misfit firmly grasped his head by his hair and the nape of his neck, beating his cranium repeatedly against the floor with all the strength he could conjure.

It did not take long for his body to feel limp in his grasp as the thug’s screams ceased after awhile, with the dome of his cranium turned to a pulp; streaks of blood, bone and gray matter was strewn across the floor.

Sat over the unmoving corpse, his chest rose and fell heavily as The Misfit took a moment to regain his energy; his armored visage shifted from one corner of the room to the other, taking in the destruction he was responsible for.

It felt… surprisingly freeing; freed of the insults, the humiliation, the abandonment, and the burdens all of that brought in their wake. The relief from the release through destruction and killing… He felt it to be addictively sweet; he never thought taking another life could be so… liberating.

Was this what his kin felt in battle? Through their insults and the humiliation it brought along with the former… were they trying to make him see what he was missing out on?

Had he robbed himself of such joy and release for so long? Why? And for what? Pity for those that did not earn such a thing?

The dead thug he was sitting on, and those around him lying dead and unmoving; they deserved none!

With a muffled, angered growl he stood back up to his feet, reaching for the blaster carbine clipped to his belt; at a cautious combat pace, The Misfit continued to press on, having relatively cleared the top floor; but he was not done yet. The area was still crawling with them; he could hear them, the hurried footsteps, the sharp yelling of commands from their overlords to their criminal underlings. He had brilliantly caught their attention in his firm grasp. He hoped it was more than enough of a diversion for the Jedi to make his entry into this skirmish.

Stepping out of the room and into the hallway, The Misfit would begin stalking the pitch black halls of the second floor before he eventually made his way to the first floor, mercilessly gunning down the thugs rallied up by their overlords to oppose him to try and stop him.

There was still work to be done, and more thugs to kill.

And he was just getting started.

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Years of training were finally put to the test as Ara moved through the warehouse, knocking down and chocking as quickly as she could. All the while, her eyes were closed with only the Force to guide her way. She didn't dare to think about something else in the moment. Only the people in the containers mattered now.

One after the other, they fell to the ground while Ara made her way through the ground floor and up to the first floor. With the light of the fire growing, as well as the glowrods the thugs carried, her stealth was shattered entirely. Only then did her lightsaber come to life. Weapons were slashed and Ara had to get crafty, but she managed to subdue them anyway in one way or another. Only one couldn't be spared, a tall Besalisk too tough to take down for her. Seeing his empty eyes as she pulled her lightsaber from his chest tore her again.

But at this range, she could hear the mess upstairs. She felt the lives snuffed out, one after another... and she felt the enjoyment coming from the stranger.

With wide eyes she rushed through and up the stairwell until she saw the dude's back at the end of the hallway. "Hey! She called out to him. Her eyes drifted over to the rooms as she walked past. Bodies on top of bodies, all mutilated or torn apart by his hand. While the acts themselves weren't what bothered her, it was what she felt from him that stuck with her.

"It's done. They're knocked out. It's done." She continued as she closed the distance between them. The worst paet was the empathy she felt with him. She felt exactly the same about it all. They didn't deserve to live, not after what they did to people. But it wasn't right to think like that. She was taught that even criminals deserved mercy. Acting on that was difficult with each passing moment, but she tried her hardest.

She took enough lives already.

"We've done what we came to do. It's out of our hands now." She spoke as she came to a halt in front of him, her lightsaber thrumming and crackling idly as the green blade cast a bright light along with the flames around them. She stared up at the visor with a mixture of guilt and sympathy before she pulled her commlink from her pocket. After calling for backup, Ara collected weapons and cut through them before working on some of the containers.

Alliance transports finally hovered in and troopers deployed immediately to set up a perimeter, working to free all of the people. Ara avoided their attention as much as possible as she returned to the stranger. "You hear? We're heroes." She commented, but her faint smile was hardly sincere. "You never told me your name, by the way, Mando." She quipped, sliding down to sit on a stair with her arms draped over her knees.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

The remainder of the thugs in the first floor, hearing the violent sounds of struggle and blaster fire in the floor above, and the more distant parts of the floor they currently inhabited, had finally got a fix on the location of the intruder.

A flurry of blaster bolts snapped by and whizzed past dangerously close the moment The Misfit peaked around the corner. Forced to take cover, the kid let them waste their munitions as he began counting their shots behind cover; swapping the near spent magazine of his carbine with a fast reload, he reached for a flash grenade from his belt.

He could hear one amongst the thugs order his lackeys to push up; the hailstorm of blaster bolts had dwindled to allow them to close in on The Misfit.

Now was the time to strike.

Priming the flash grenade with the press of its plastoid button at its top with his thumb, the kid bounced the grenade into the hallway by chucking it at the adjacent wall near him. A bright flash of white and a deafeningly loud thunder clap resounded in the hallway; disoriented shouting and yelps were left in their wake.

With the intent of exploiting the disorientation he wrought upon them all, The Misfit swiftly emerged from the corner with his carbine raised forth. Switching from one thug to the other only after dispatching them, he was quick to snuff out the lives of several in rapid succession in the wake of each squeeze of the hair trigger; the detonating golden particle bolts tore free chunks of flesh from their bodies after the rounds slammed against them.

Abruptly taking fire from an unexpected sector, however… he felt the stinging pain of a blaster bolt striking him in the chest plate and his left shoulder plate. Grimacing in pain and simmering with anger as he immediately crouched under the window, he disappeared from the thug’s line of sight, denying any further exposure to the gunman suppressing him down; caught under the shower of shattering glass as the gunman continued firing, chunks of ferroconcrete tore from the walls, leaving blaster holes in their wake while a cloud of dust hung in the air in the hallway.

Quickly peeking out the window and dipping back into cover again as a blaster bolt snapped past his visor, he made out the gunman’s position at a very brief glance; he saw the muzzle flash of the thug positioned on the catwalk right outside, behind one of the rows of windows to his left in the hallway. Walking crouched along the wall under the windows and emerging from an angle the man least expected would easily do the trick.

But the nuisance caused by the gunman did not end there.

While under fire and suppressed, he was a bit too late to hear and realize the pair of footfalls encroaching onto his position at a sprint, coming from the corridor to his immediate right. His visage snapped to the source of the rapid footsteps, but before he could turn his carbine to meet the incoming pair of thugs, one of them was already in his face; Momentarily disoriented by the one the man that drove his knee into his faceplate, the thug wasted no time to place The Misfit under his firm grasp, pulling him up and out of cover to engage in melee.

Locked in hand-to-hand combat as blaster bolts continued to slam against the wall behind them, the man’s iron grasp shifted onto the carbine the kid held in his hands. The Misfit’s efforts of trying to point the barrel of the carbine at his chest was effectively foiled by the man’s sheer muscle mass alone; his opponent was stronger than him for sure.

A sharp groan escaped the kid’s lips as the man delivered another blow; driving his knee into the gap in the kid’s cuirass that allowed better ease of bodily movement, he buckled up in pain at the wake of the blow to his lower abdomen. In an attempt to seize his lost initiative, The Misfit coiled his head back, and crashed the dome of his helmet onto the thug’s visage after quickly recovering from the blow.

As the man recoiled backwards from the stern head-butt with a pained growl, the kid wasted no time to exploit his disorientation; the opening The Misfit had made for himself allowed him to manipulate the thug’s footwork. Placing the thug between him and the continuing stream of blaster bolts, he placed him in the line of fire with relatively tiresome effort, forcing him to move backwards towards the window nearby; realizing too late what the kid was trying to do, the thug’s strength left him as several blaster bolts found purchase into his back.

Slowly slumping onto the ground beneath The Misfit’s feet, the kid wasted no time in ripping the carbine from the dying thug’s grasp with a firm yank; the maelstrom of blaster fire came to an abrupt halt in the wake of a singular whisper-silent shriek shortly after the kid leveled his carbine at the man.

Silence befell the hallway afterwards.

All he could hear was the distant crackling of dancing flames from the fires slowly spreading into the rest of the warehouse, and the shallow breathing of the thug lying on the ground below him; the shards of broken glass, shining under the dim lights from outside, cracked loudly as The Misfit took a few steps back from the dying man, and leaned his back against the wall behind him. His gaze unwavering off him, he watched in relative silence as the man’s features lost color with each passing moment.

A familiar voice called out to him from the far end of the hallway, not long after he watched the glint of life in the mortally wounded thug’s eyes was smothered, at last.

"Hey!

...

"It's done. They're knocked out. It's done."

The thrum of her lightsaber became louder and louder as she drew nearer with each step. <”Area..”> he briefly paused as he took a second to catch his breath. <”Area’s secure?”> the kid asked her in a disappointed tone as his gaze shifted away from the dead gangster, and turned to look at the Jedi. She came to a halt in front of him as she continued.

"We've done what we came to do. It's out of our hands now."

The Misfit’s armored visage slowly lowered onto the ground beneath his feet; the desire to kill more was still burning brightly within him. All of this had evoked something within him that laid dormant, and forgotten for all those years. He did not feel fully satisfied even after claiming the lives of over three dozen men and women.

But the fight was over.

With a deep sigh he flipped up the helmet mounted macrobinoculars with the back of his left hand as she reached for her comlink device, and called in for back-up and a clean-up crew. Standing back up to his feet, The Misfit walked alongside her towards the stairs leading down to the loading bay -the exit- of the large warehouse facility; the sharp wailing of sirens belonging to patrol cars soon reached their ears.

"You hear? We're heroes." She commented, but her faint smile was hardly sincere. "You never told me your name, by the way, Mando." She quipped, sliding down to sit on a stair with her arms draped over her knees.

He stood behind her for a second, before he sat down beside her on the stair as well; sat with his knees tucked in, The Misfit did not pick up on her quip during the current mental state he found himself in. <”Kayl,”> he muttered. <”Kayl Krayt,”> Slowly turning his visage away from hers after a moment passing in silence, the kid looked at the hallway from whence they came over his shoulder; he could see the flames blinking at him down the hallway. <”I think it would be for the best if we left,”> he suggested as he stood back up to his feet, and began walking down the stairs on his way to the loading bay.

It was then while he walked the halls of the ground floor on his way out to the courtyard, he realized the unmoving bodies of the thugs he walked past, strewn across the corridor and the halls, were in fact still alive, merely lying on the ground unconscious. <”They’re alive!”> he muttered in anger and disappointment when he came to the realization; his grasp on the pistol grip of his carbine tightened in wrath as he came to a halt at the sight of an unconscious thug lying on the ground before him.

Knocked out of consciousness, the thug’s chest rose and fell in between shallow, relaxed pulls of breath.

Standing tall before him, The Misfit would remain motionless for a time, unsure of what to do; his psyche was torn between the desire to claim more lives to satiate this tasty, new found pleasure, while his conscience fought against it; his desire for bloodlust was starting to win over the latter as he continued to stare at him.

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Ara finally learned his name. Kayl Krayt. She had heard of his clan before, from a variety of stories. She also met someone she figured he would know, but that could wait until later. He suggested that they leave and the Zabrak gave a nod before she rose to her feet. Ara matched his speed towards the exit as she walked beside him, her mind all over the place as she continued to think back on what happened. What she did.

She almost didn't notice when he paused by one of the unconscious criminals on the ground. "You okay?" She asked softly, but she quickly realized what was going on inside his head as the rage sparked back up. Immediately she stood in front of him with hands on his armoured torso as she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Hey. It's done. The cops are here, we gave our reports to 'em... it's done. These schuttas won't be seeing the light of day again in their lives." She explained to him with a low voice.

Her hands shifted to his carbine as she unclipped the magazine from the side of the weapon. It wouldn't do much to stop a Mandalorian from killing someone, but it was better than to just leave him. "Keep walking. I'll buy you a drink, how's that sound? You know of a place we can crash at? Come on, Kayl... let's just go." She continued to talk him down as she grasped the power cell in her hand.

Taking a bigger risk, she took hold of his hand and pulled him along with her, away from the criminals and the police locking them all up.

She didn't even realize that she was holding her breath.

Only once they were gone, did she hold out his power cell for him to take. "Really solid gun, by the way." She commented lightly, her voice rather strained from the awkward silence. She didn't want to think about what happened.

"Krayt, huh? You know Shai by any chance?" She asked with a smirk. "Met her as a kid when she was just a gun runner, this twig of a kriffin' mutt. Met her again about a month ago and... holy kriff, she got buff!" She let out a light laugh as she glanced up at him. "She told me about how you guys are super hardcore... gotta say, I never understood what she meant until tonight. You're good." She admitted casually. Anything to calm him down and keep his focus on her instead of the bodies they stacked back there.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

"You okay?"

The Misfit stood unresponsive to her inquiry as he continued to stare at the unconscious thug. It did not take long for his conscience to collapse under the weight of his awoken desire to claim another life; just as he was about to raise the blaster carbine and point the barrel at the thug’s head, The Misfit slightly recoiled back when the Jedi unexpectedly sprung between him and the unconscious man. Raising and pressing her hands against his chest plate as she looked up at him, she prevented him from taking aim.

"Hey. It's done. The cops are here, we gave our reports to 'em... it's done. These schuttas won't be seeing the light of day again in their lives." She explained to him with a low voice.

A pang of guilt washed over him as he averted his eyes in shame, away from hers. As much as his conscience gave way to the desire to take another life, deep down he knew she was right. The man was out cold; he was no longer a threat to anybody. He was pacified.

Her words, coupled with his own conscience and logic, helped alleviate any further escalation for the time being, as much as his bloodlust was not fully quenched yet; it was starting to replace his judgment, setting up grounds for his desire to take over. Overwhelmed with such appetite he never realized even existed in him until today, and something he had suppressed for years, it was starting to get the best of him.

Absent-minded as he gazed back at the widened pair of green eyes before him, he barely even realized she removed the power cell from his blaster carbine with sleight of hand. Her words would prevent further thought as she continued to speak to him.

"Keep walking. I'll buy you a drink, how's that sound? You know of a place we can crash at? Come on, Kayl... let's just go."

<”Okay,”> he absent-mindedly muttered in a near whisper tone of voice. The more she spoke to him, and encouraged the idea of going somewhere else, away from the thugs, away from this compound, the more he began to understand the gravity of the deeds he had committed by his hands not a few moments ago.

A sense of dread began to take hold within him, replacing the burning fires of passion he had felt throughout the skirmish.

Feeling the Jedi pull him away by his hand, the kid did not voice a harsh refusal or sharply pulled back his hand, letting her guide him out of there; dizziness was quick to settle in, following right after the sense of dread. He felt like his knees were just a moment away from buckling, refusing to move and take another step.

Exiting through the loading bay and walking to the courtyard, now crawling with policemen going about their business, a breath of fresh air helped him keep things together. Glancing around at a blank stare, his face plate would turn to look at the Zabrak once she referred to him again

"Really solid gun, by the way."

For a moment she caught him off guard; his gaze shifted to his carbine for a moment, and seeing that the magazine well of the carbine was missing its power cell, and only realizing she was holding it in her hands, he couldn’t help but knit his brows in mild anger, but was quick to calm down; he realized she had prevented him from doing something he would have regretted, going forward.

Reaching for the power cell she held towards him in her hand, he gently took it from her grasp; inserting it back into the side-mounted magazine well of the carbine, he powered the weapon again, but with the flick of its fire selector, he switched from ‘SEMI-AUTO’ to ‘SAFETY’, and clipped the carbine to his belt over his right hip.

"Krayt, huh? You know Shai by any chance?" She asked with a smirk. "Met her as a kid when she was just a gun runner, this twig of a kriffin' mutt. Met her again about a month ago and... holy kriff, she got buff!" She let out a light laugh as she glanced up at him. "She told me about how you guys are super hardcore... gotta say, I never understood what she meant until tonight. You're good." She admitted casually.

His gaze shifted from her visage, towards the first responders -firemen, EMT’s and policemen alike- carrying out their tasks as he backed up towards the empty cargo container behind them while the Jedi continued to speak. Resting his back against it, the kid slowly slid down onto the ground with a deep, shaky sigh; the full realization of his deeds hit him full force.

It was not about the amounts he killed just now. The kills he got today were not his first, and would not be his last; it was the fact that he took great pleasure out of it that bothered him immensely now. It felt as if it was a physiological need of his that demanded tending to; something as natural as breathing, drinking, and eating.

He had not satisfied it before.

And now when he did, after having suppressed it for years, he had taken enjoyment out of it, from every second of it. Worst of all he did not feel sickened when he did all of it. Not at all. He did not recoil in revolt at the sight of his handiwork when he took in the sight of the mangled, torn bodies. He reveled in it. Somehow he had gone beyond the idea of feeling desensitized to it, and had begun drawing enjoyment out of it.

It all gripped on his heart.

The Jedi’s last comment also did not really help his situation, as much as she might have said it with good intentions.

For the first time in his life, he was not sure; not sure what to do with all of this. One thing did come to mind though; occupy and immerse himself in something, anything, to forget the events of today, even if it meant he’d only forget about it for just briefly.

He shifted his gaze at Ara’s visage after a long moment passing in silence from him. <”Are we free to go? Do they require our statements?”> he asked her. Following a muffled sigh he continued. <”I want to go home,”> he muttered to himself, his gaze trailed off her visage as he looked back at the compound they had cleared out. <”What do you want to do?”> he asked her, looking back at Ara.

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Kayl didn't say anything in response to her comments. In fact, her words merely seemed to amplify the growing regret and discourse he was feeling. When he slid down against the empty container, Ara reached out to catch him, thinking that he had lost his balance completely. She quickly relaxed as she realized that it was the weight of his thoughts that brought the street lamp down.

<”Are we free to go? Do they require our statements?”>

<”I want to go home,”>

<”What do you want to do?”>

Ara knelt down in front of him with a hint of concern in her eyes. She didn't have to see under the visor to know that he was an emotional wreck. Whether it was the kills, or something else about what they did, she did not know. She knew the look and sound of someone not used to killing. This was different.

"We gave our statements, don't worry about that." She glanced back at the cops combing through the area. They asked him when they asked her. They already gave it... how disoriented was the poor guy? "Come on, let's get you home, then. What's your address?" She asked him as she hoisted the man up to his feet. "Holy kriff, has anyone ever told you how kriffin' tall you are?" She let out a light snicker as she wrapped an arm around him to hold him up before leading him back to the cops.

No need to walk all the way when a cop could give them a lift... maybe with a stop along the way.

After a short negotiation, Ara managed to organize a lift for them and soon they were off, only stopping along the way at some sketchy bottle store. The look on the man's face after seeing a police cruiser pull in and a girl just casually hopping out the back was priceless, but she got them a six-pack of beer and hopped back in.

Pretty soon they arrived at some run-down building and the Zabrak couldn't stop the look of confusion from creeping through. "I hope this is just a temporary thing and you ain't actually living here..." She remarked. "But hey... if the rent's cheap then why not." She shrugged as she looked around.

Neighbourhood wasn't too bad at least.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

"We gave our statements, don't worry about that."

The Misfit’s helmet visor hid the blank stare he gave in silent response to Ara’s answer. He had no recollection of giving their statements to the police, but after all she, by her trade, was a peacekeeper, one of the servants of the law on this planet, as well as for the rest of Alliance space.

He took her word for it without a second thought.

"Come on, let's get you home, then. What's your address?"

When she asked him of the address to his home, the kid would hesitate to answer for a second, taking a moment to ponder before answering; his safehouse he called home was relatively close to this compound, just a handful of blocks away, in fact. Though he was not a fan of the idea that he’d be living quite close to a place which would evoke the unpleasant memories of today; and not to mention the fact that his safehouse would be compromised after revealing the address, and he could no longer deem it to be safe afterwards.

But he was not bothered by it. He could do with a quick relocation to another place just as good, or perhaps even better than the home he currently possessed; he had already scouted out several other locations for a potential safehouse, in case the one he was residing in got compromised, anyway.

<”60414 south, 24th street,”> He answered as she helped him up; careful not to lean heavily on her, The Misfit rose to his feet with some assistance from the Jedi. Although he could walk just fine despite still feeling dizzy, he appreciated the kind gesture from the Jedi regardless as she wrapped an arm around him, helping him walk.

Throughout the ride at the back of a police cruiser he remained silent, alone with his thoughts for the most part; although he knew he would have to relocate the day after -thus refraining from voicing his displeasure to begin with-, he still felt a pang of unease within him as they took a more exposed path he mostly avoided, and with a law enforcement vehicle no less.

It wasn’t long after their brief stop at a liquor store for some beer, the cop cruiser drove off after dropping them off at the address; the defunct, run-down warehouse stood before them with all its glory. With a muffled, tired sigh The Misfit walked towards its entrance after looking both ways of the street, looking for any signs of unusual activity; seeing none at the time soothed him somewhat.

"I hope this is just a temporary thing and you ain't actually living here..." She remarked. "But hey... if the rent's cheap then why not." She shrugged as she looked around.

He managed to get a chuckle out of himself in response to the Jedi. <”Rent? What rent?”> he managed to quip back as he glanced over his shoulder at the Jedi while he unlocked the door. As much as he quipped though, it was not at all far from the truth; there were so many forgotten, defunct buildings such as this all across Coruscant, more so in the lower levels.

Run down, forgotten and abandoned to its fate, and their locations for the most part, deep in gang controlled territories, said gangs and organized criminal activity made it quite undesirable for anybody to invest on the plot of land to do anything with such buildings and locations.

It made for the best safehouse locations one could ever ask for, really.

Stepping inside, he would close the door after her. <”Living room and kitchen’s upstairs,”> he said as he walked past her and reached for the plastic bag sitting by a corner in the entryway. <”Make yourself at home. I will be with you in a moment, I just got to get changed,”> he said as he walked towards the stairs.

<”Oh,”> Remembering one thing, he stopped for a moment and turned around to face her. <”Though I would advise not tampering with the terminal there,”> he said as he gave a nod of his head towards the small, and relatively empty loading bay; save for a computer set-up on a desk he considered to be rudimentary by his standards next to his ride, covered with a large, olive drab tarp.

At a careful observation though, one could make out the profound outlines of a Basilisk War Droid hidden underneath the tarp.

Thinking no further explanation was required, the kid turned around, ascending the stairs; walking past what he converted into a living room and a kitchen, he made his way to his room, but not before tossing the bag filled with severed heads into an empty freezer in the kitchen.

Throwing himself into the refresher after taking off his armor, having a quick wash under the nice and warm stream of water helped smooth him down further; changing into casual clothing after drying himself, he walked at a leisurely pace into the living room. ”Apologies for the mess,” he said as he continued to dry his hair with a towel. ”I can’t say I ever thought I’d have a guest over. Are you hungry?”

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Ara immediately realized what he mean with a snicker. "Yeah, who cares about rent anyway." She joked as she followed him into his safehouse. She wasn't exactly expecting something lavish, but even by barebone standards it was sad. Luckily the Zabrak knew better than to diss a Mandalorian on the state of their house.

<”Oh,”>

<”Though I would advise not tampering with the terminal there,”>

Ara glanced over to the terminal in the middle of nowhere, right beside some kind of ship covered by a tarp. "You ever heard of reverse psychology?" She quipped as she held her arms out. That comment simply made the woman curious and soon she was wandering around the terminal and the ship, though she couldn't figure out at all which model it was. It didn't look like anything she had seen before, the angles against the tarp was way too weird. Ara glanced up at the stairwell to make sure he was gone before closing the distance and reaching out to lift the tarp...

**********​

There was no sign of Ara anywhere in the living room or kitchen. Only a deathly silence in the building, though it was shattered entirely by a droning roar from downstairs, followed by an equally loud "OH KRIFF!"

The Zabrak came sprinting up the stairs with lightsaber in hand, but no sign of any blade. Simply the soft, mechanical whirring of the hydrospanner. "It's a droid?! It's a karkin' droid?!" She called out as she sprinted past him and turned to face the stairwell, where the Basilisk was looking for a way up. "What the kriff kind of ship is that?!" She looked up to him with enormous eyes and a bleak face.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

Only after drawing the towel away from his face did The Misfit realize she wasn’t in the room. Glancing at his surroundings briefly, it did not take long for a rather loud commotion from downstairs to reach his ears; his eyes widened at the sound of a synthesized droning roar of his Basilisk.

"OH KRIFF!"

Tossing the towel at a nearby chair, the kid headed towards the stairwell at a precipitous pace; he knew what exactly was going on. He should have picked up on the Jedi’s quip and repeated his warning.

Emerging from the stairs at a sprint, they would have almost certainly crashed into each other if it weren’t for The Misfit’s quick reflexes, side stepping out of the way; he heard the all too familiar hum of a hydrospanner as she ran past him. ”I told y-” he said with annoyance in his tone, but the Jedi cut his words short as she called out.

"It's a droid?! It's a karkin' droid?!"

Although the kid would try to briefly explain what she stirred up, a hint of annoyance and mild anger would be underlying in his tone. He did not like it when people tampered with his possessions, especially tech, without his permission. ”Yes, it’s-” he could not finish his brief explanation as she continued to speak fervently; her encounter with his semi-sentient ride appeared to have spooked her considerably, as she looked up to his visage with eyes as wide as a saucer.

"What the kriff kind of ship is that?!"

His gaze would snap towards the stairwell at the sound of the droid trying to make its way to the second floor; it was very likely it was trying to keep him safe, as the iron beast was yet to identify her and decide whether she was a threat or not.

”Calm down. Stay put I’ll take care of it,” he said hastily as he ran at the mouth of the stairwell. Coming to a halt by the stairwell, he looked at the war droid’s optical cluster glowering with a red hue. ”Ke’mot!” at the shout of command to halt, the iron beast ceased his further movement.

”Val cuyir a burc'ya! Val cuyir a burc'ya.” At his designation of the Jedi the glowing red hue glowing from its optical cluster began to dim. ”Va aru'ela. Batabi'hu,” Following his command, the hydraulics of the droid’s mechanical limbs gently groaned as it backed off, and powered down in front of the computer terminal in the loading bay.

With a muffled sigh he turned around, his hands on his hips, to face Ara after watching the droid execute his commands. ”I advised you not to tamper with the terminal,” he said, mild annoyance visible in his visage as he walked closer to her at a slow, leisurely pace. ”If you had told me it had caught your attention, we would have satisfied your curiosity together,” The Misfit continued; his features easing up with each passing moment.

Although he felt miffed she had tampered with the droid and perhaps the terminal, without his allowance, he took half the blame of it, as he did not really pick up on her quip earlier.

”And to answer your question, that was a Basilisk War Droid,” he explained, with a smile instead of a mild frown this time; not only was he the kind of person to hold grudges, sharing a bit of knowledge with another person -especially regarding technology- never failed to put a heartfelt smile on his face. ”Bes’uliik. In other words, when translated into basic, it carries the meaning “iron beast”. It’s a spaceworthy, semi-sentient combat droid. Its design dates back several millennia, with -of course- several modernization efforts throughout several decades to keep the war machines up to date. In the Mandalorian Crusades of old, my people took the war machines for themselves after conquering Basilisk. They would ride them down into the atmosphere of a world at incredible speeds, coupled with the gravitational pull of said planet; allowing them to overwhelm the defenders with the element of surprise working in their favor,”

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Ara was practically oblivious to Kayl's annoyance as he tried to calm her down, her attention focused entirely on the mechanical beast that lurked in the loading area of the neglected warehouse. Kayl continued to calm her down and practically ordered her to stay put. She could only watch with wide eyes as he talked to the droid, in what she could only guess was Mando'a, as if it were a pet.

"Oh don't worry, my curiosity is satisfied! Karking thing's got enough guns to level this entire city block!" She waved at the stairwell as her eyes refused to look away for a few long moments. She only realised that she hit the wrong buttons on her lightsaber when the whirring drew her attention. "You telling me that is a Basilisk?!" She switched her hilt off and looked up at him with a mixture if terror and shock.

Suddenly the droid made a lot more sense.

She listened to his explanation of what the droid was, finally shaking from her petrified state with a nod and a more relaxed posture. "So... the stuff that levelled Panatha, Dromund Kaas, fought over Ilum... it was that thing?" She asked him as a more curious tone took hold. "I've heard of 'em... but seeing one in person is a lot different." She admitted as she glanced back at the stairwell until finally she took off her jacket and set it aside along with her lightsaber.

Opening the pack of beers, she handed him one and opened one for herself as she dropped into his couch with a sigh. "That was the last thing I needed today..." She muttered as she took a long sip and fished a packet of cigarettes from her pocket. Luckily she paused before lighting one. "Uh... you cool or should I rather not?" She asked him carefully as she held up her cigarette.

Easing into her seat, Ara simply enjoyed the moment of peace and quiet for a while. "Okay, so... what's your deal? You looked horrified about killing those dudes in the alleyway... but at the warehouse I could feel you literally go from enjoying the kills to outright being disgusted by it. What's up?" She asked him calmly as her green eyes drifted over to him.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her natural reaction towards his War Droid in between his explanation of what exactly it was. He saw her relax the more he explained what it was, and its history; he enjoyed the fact that the things he had to say were not just simply brushed away at the back of one’s hand by the Jedi. It was something he experienced quite a bit with most of his kin, disheartening him.

She was correct with her assessment of its capabilities however; it had enough armaments to level a city block or two without requiring re-armament. Its aesthetics and the destruction it was capable of, instilled fear into both friend and foe alike.

"So... the stuff that levelled Panatha, Dromund Kaas, fought over Ilum... it was that thing?" She asked him as a more curious tone took hold. "I've heard of 'em... but seeing one in person is a lot different."

The Misfit nodded with a faint smile on his visage. ”I remember seeing them for the first time years ago when I was just a Foundling,” he reminisced. ”Awe inspiring sight. They roar with an unmistakable sharp howl when they fly in atmosphere,” he said as he looked at the stairwell over his shoulder.

He was glad to have the iron beast as his companion. He was in great debt to the Kel Dor for that matter.

Moving into the living room, he accepted the can of beer she offered to him without a second thought; cracking open the can, he took a sip in silence as she dropped onto a couch.

"Uh... you cool or should I rather not?" She asked him carefully as she held up her cigarette.

”Yeah go ahead, I don’t mind,” he replied with a nod of his head as he sat on a chair across from her. ”I don't have an ashtray to offer you, sadly. Not a smoker,” he said as he raised the can to his lips, taking another swig; drawing away his drink from his lips, the kid leaned forward, massaging his brow as they both fell into a moment’s silence, enjoying some serenity.

Fatigue was starting to settle in slowly; although the beer helped with combatting the body aches, he made a mental note of getting himself some bacta for the bruises on his chest and left shoulder before hitting the sack.

It was when she addressed the elephant in the room he would open his eyes and shift his visage at her.

"Okay, so... what's your deal? You looked horrified about killing those dudes in the alleyway... but at the warehouse I could feel you literally go from enjoying the kills to outright being disgusted by it. What's up?" She asked him calmly as her green eyes drifted over to him.

The kid remained silent for a moment. He averted his eyes away from hers as the guilt of the deeds he carried out today came rushing back. He took a deep breath, trying to recollect his thoughts and keep it together. ”I was not… horrified with killing them, no. It was what I had to do after killing them I dreaded,” he clarified after shifting his gaze back at her visage; the feeling of the blade running through their flesh, severing their head from their bodies, was a difficult one to forget and get used to.

With a deep sigh he continued. ”As for those in the warehouse, I…” he trailed off for a moment, reminiscing of the strong emotions he had felt through it all. It wasn’t until a moment after he spoke of it again; he found it surprisingly difficult to put them into words. ”It felt freeing. Liberating; liberated of restraint. Watching and… actually feeling them dying under my grasp was…” he fell silent for a brief moment before, trying to remember how exactly it felt. ”It felt so sweet. And it all awoke something I did not even know existed in me! The amount of thugs I claimed during that skirmish, it hadn’t satisfied that… that desire. I craved for more,” he let out a deep sigh as his gaze trailed off to a corner in the room.

”I took enjoyment out of every second of it,” he said after a moment, continuing. ”And I hate that; it’s scaring me, I’m- I’m not like this. I never have felt this compelled to take a life, never mind taking deep, profound enjoyment out of it while doing so. It was so wrong, but it felt so good,” He fell silent again, deep in thought. He hated how easy it was to take a life, and the enjoyment that now came following after; all it took was the squeeze of a trigger.

A moment you drew breath, in the next you weren’t.

”What about you?” he asked her as he shifted his gaze at the pair of green eyes again. ”Why did you let them live?”

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Ara knew immediately that the Mandalorian's answer would be a rollercoaster ride. She listened closely to his explanation with a keen eye towards just how conflicted he was about what he felt. The worst part was that she understood exactly what he was feeling. She knew how thst pleasure felt, to snuff out a life that deserved it.

But when he turned the question on her, She looked away and took a long sip of her beer. The cigarette was lit and a few long drags were taken before she shook her head. "It was the right thing to do." She answered softly as her gaze turned to him. "That guy I saw? He gave me this." She pointed up to the faded burn scar on her left cheek.

"I was... ten years old. Born and raised on the Two-One-Three... Level Twelve-Thirteen. I tried to steal a swoop as always... got it started up but the coast wasn't as clear as I thought." She looked at her glowing cigarette for a moment. "He pulled me off and folded me over the seat. He did... something bad to me... but in the process, my face got pushed against the exhaust." She stared ahead for a moment with a look far older than what one could expect from the young Zabrak.

"I... never wanted to admit what he did. But... in the struggle, I managed to get hold of his pistol from his holster on the ground. I popped him in the gut and drove off. Thought he died with that." She looked at him with empty eyes.

"For the longest time, I wasn't afraid to take a life. I've seen what people like those could do, I grew up with 'em... but... I've learned that you shouldn't let your emotions make you who you are. You should be better than you are now, that's what the Jedi teaches us. Emotion, yet peace. You can feel angry, you can feel whatever... but you're supposed to be better than that. Keep a clear head and do what's right." She took a long pull from her cigarette and let the plume of smoke out wuth a shaky breath. Her beer was quickly finished off for her to use it as an ashtray.

"I went to disable the freighter... but that guy and his goons were waiting for me. I killed them. I hacked them apart and made them suffer. That... that ain't right. I'm supposed to be better than that. I get you guys don't give a kriff about that. Y'all level cities because the people did the wrong thing. But for me... I ain't got some illusions that I'll be some super big deal of a Jedi... I just wanna be a good Jedi." She admitted softly.

Her green eyes turned to him for a moment. "I know how you feel. Better than most. Those people deserved what they got. They deserve worse than they got from you. But... it ain't our job to be judge, jury and executioner. I need to be better than I am now. I hurt people very close to me because of mistakes I made a few months ago. By the time I came to my senses... it was too late for me. I was forced to kill him because I was blinded by my anger and desire for revenge. I wanted to do the right thing with the rest." A long, smokey sigh escaped her as she sat back in the couch.

"Take it from someone who knows the feeling... if you don't want to kill without reason, don't. You'll keep seeing their faces no matter where you look. Look for a better solution. But if you have to do the wrong thing... do it right, at least. What we learn as Jedi don't mean jack-poodoo for Mandos... but I know the feeling. That guilt over it all. The enjoyment you got from it, punishing people that deserved it. People more evil and cruel than any Sith could only hope to reach." A sniff escaped her, but she forced her feelings aside to not look like an idiot in front of the Mando.

"You're cool. Just straight up. You remind me of... a good friend I used to have. Don't... lose that. Don't turn into a mindless killer, I beg you. I can see what you're made of... you ain't a barbaric mass murderer." She tried to encourage him with a faint smile as she pulled another beer from the six-pack.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

It was the right thing to do." She answered softly as her gaze turned to him.

The kid gave a slow nod of his head at her remark as he looked back at it all; those he had killed… Although his logic was very much toeing the line of assuming the roles of judge, jury and the executioner, those men and women were highly unlikely to be redeemed no matter the judicial punishment they received in front of the law. It made sense in his mind that there was only one sound way of cleanse them from their sins.

He started to feel a little bit better after reaching that conclusion, even though he continued to detest the fact that he had craved bloodshed.

"That guy I saw? He gave me this." She pointed up to the faded burn scar on her left cheek.

"I was... ten years old. Born and raised on the Two-One-Three... Level Twelve-Thirteen. I tried to steal a swoop as always... got it started up but the coast wasn't as clear as I thought." She looked at her glowing cigarette for a moment. "He pulled me off and folded me over the seat. He did... something bad to me... but in the process, my face got pushed against the exhaust." She stared ahead for a moment with a look far older than what one could expect from the young Zabrak.

"I... never wanted to admit what he did. But... in the struggle, I managed to get hold of his pistol from his holster on the ground. I popped him in the gut and drove off. Thought he died with that." She looked at him with empty eyes.

"For the longest time, I wasn't afraid to take a life. I've seen what people like those could do, I grew up with 'em... but... I've learned that you shouldn't let your emotions make you who you are. You should be better than you are now, that's what the Jedi teaches us. Emotion, yet peace. You can feel angry, you can feel whatever... but you're supposed to be better than that. Keep a clear head and do what's right." She took a long pull from her cigarette and let the plume of smoke out wuth a shaky breath. Her beer was quickly finished off for her to use it as an ashtray.

"I went to disable the freighter... but that guy and his goons were waiting for me. I killed them. I hacked them apart and made them suffer. That... that ain't right. I'm supposed to be better than that. I get you guys don't give a kriff about that. Y'all level cities because the people did the wrong thing. But for me... I ain't got some illusions that I'll be some super big deal of a Jedi... I just wanna be a good Jedi." She admitted softly.

The Misfit muttered not a word as he listened to Ara. Upon hearing her story behind the faded scar, seared on her left cheek, he felt his blood drain at first; anger and hatred for the party responsible of it was quick to replace his shock and horror at the revelation. It was heart-wrenching, through and through.

But he now understood what she meant when she said that there were… sentient ’beings’ that could in fact commit such heinous crimes against morality, that would even make a Sith squirm with unease.

He would, however, visibly relax upon hearing the perpetrator and his lackeys meeting a desired end at Ara’s hands. Taking a short sip from his drink, his gaze remained on her visage throughout, continuing to listen to her intently as she shared what experience and wisdom she had with him.

Her green eyes turned to him for a moment. "I know how you feel. Better than most. Those people deserved what they got. They deserve worse than they got from you. But... it ain't our job to be judge, jury and executioner. I need to be better than I am now. I hurt people very close to me because of mistakes I made a few months ago. By the time I came to my senses... it was too late for me. I was forced to kill him because I was blinded by my anger and desire for revenge. I wanted to do the right thing with the rest." A long, smokey sigh escaped her as she sat back in the couch.

"Take it from someone who knows the feeling... if you don't want to kill without reason, don't. You'll keep seeing their faces no matter where you look. Look for a better solution. But if you have to do the wrong thing... do it right, at least. What we learn as Jedi don't mean jack-poodoo for Mandos... but I know the feeling. That guilt over it all. The enjoyment you got from it, punishing people that deserved it. People more evil and cruel than any Sith could only hope to reach."

Her advice did make sense in his mind, and it felt that was pretty much the right thing to do; killing only with reason. Logically, doing so left little room for remorse when one self reflected on their deeds.

And the fact that he was not alone with how exactly he felt about this, that they could relate to one another, gave him some sense of relief, but it was far from soothing The Misfit’s troubled, worried mind. This new found desire that felt as natural as basic needs for any living being, were at odds with his compassion and morality -what’s left of them, anyway.

He was uncertain if it was his true self that cracked out during the skirmish with each kill, starting with that sentry standing guard by the generator. He was not sure whether to take pride in his dirty work and revel in it, or whether he should be suppressing that desire…

Would a middle ground be achievable? Restrained bloodlust… Was that the most healthy option to choose?

Though regardless, he was fairly convinced that he would not take another one’s life without reason; but for how long would that remain to be a fact? The sense of bloodlust he had felt was immensely compelling. It was a feeling like none other he had felt in his life before.

He really began to wonder if he would still be the Misfit he was known to be, if he had felt and displayed such bloodlust in a fight, before departing from his Clan.

"You're cool. Just straight up. You remind me of... a good friend I used to have. Don't... lose that. Don't turn into a mindless killer, I beg you. I can see what you're made of... you ain't a barbaric mass murderer." She tried to encourage him with a faint smile as she pulled another beer from the six-pack.

Ara’s compliment and encouragement was not at all lost to The Misfit, but the gravity of the situation he found himself in, the weight of it all, made it impossible to return her compliment in kind at that moment; he too was impressed by her. The fact that she had experienced probably the worst the gutter of the Coruscant Underworld had to offer to her, and she managed to stubbornly keep moving forward no matter what, refusing to be dragged down by it all…

The glint of admiration for her resilience and strength could be seen in his eyes, even as he found himself pondering about everything she said amidst a whirlwind of emotions. Briefly averting his gaze away from her visage, the kid took a silent sip from his drink.

”I’m fairly certain I’m supposed to be… that part of my self you’ve seen in action in that warehouse,” he finally said, shifting his gaze back at Ara’svisage when he spoke. ”Cold, brutal, and ruthless… I believe I’ve held on very tightly to my morals and compassion for so long that I’ve unwittingly suppressed this… desire for bloodlust that I discovered today to be inherent in me,” he remarked with a sigh.

”Suppressed it to a point where my own kin excluded me. Criticized, and later mistreated for who I am... Insulted, humiliated, cast away… I put up with it all silently. One even had gone as far as questioning my right to bear my armor,” his features sharpened with mild anger at the reminiscence of that day; though he no longer received such remarks after emerging victorious from that duel, it was heartbreaking nevertheless. ”No matter what I tried to do, to fit in with the rest of them, I never could. It felt as if they pushed me further away the harder I tried. I was always the odd-one-out… The Misfit,” he briefly fell silent as he looked away from her visage and unwittingly stared at a speck of dust on the ground, lost in thought for a moment.

He couldn’t help but think he may have shattered her perception she had towards him now, following that statement; after all she too questioned whether he deserved the armor or not in that backstreet, before they went into that warehouse together.

And by a Jedi, of all the people out there he could have bumped into.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the thought now. Perhaps that, coupled with the humiliations of the past, were the primary source of encouragement to… break the restraints today he had unknowingly set upon himself.

The spark.

”And now I find myself at a crossroad. I don’t know which path I should choose. I don’t know whether I should… accept and make my peace with all of this, with who I really am, take pride in everything I’ve done today, and become what I believe my kin wanted me to see who I was since the start; or whether I should continue to restrain and suppress all of it, albeit knowingly this time.” he finished with a shaky sigh.

”And I don’t think there’s anyone but me out there that… possesses the answer I need. I will have to find out on my own, I believe.” he finished, sloshing down the remainder of his beer afterwards.

In the end, all he ever wanted was to feel belonged.

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Ara watched him closely as he spoke to her, admitted what was gnawing at him and dragging his spirit down. She understood it. If things were different, she would be sitting next to him with her own set of Beskar armour. She would have followed that same road and done the same thing as him. But that was not her path. She was a Jedi, that was the choice she made.

But it didn't mean that he did the wrong thing.

"Why?" She asked simply. "Why should you be a cold, bloodthirsty killer?" She turned slightly and knocked some ash to the ground before taking a long pull. "Yeah, you're a Mando. No arguing that. Y'all are killers, that's what you're known for. Probably the best in the galaxy. But you didn't do anything wrong." She took a sip of her new beer and set it aside. "You killed people that deserved it. I ain't a killer, as Jedi we should preserve all life and only harm as a last resort. But you? You saved a thousand people today. You could have grabbed your heads and cashed your creds but you came with me to help me free them. You didn't kill those people just for shits and giggles. You killed 'em because they were evil." Her voice was firm but sincere as she watched him.

"If you're just a killer who don't give a kriff about pulling the trigger, then what makes you better than the people you just killed? What makes you better than the stormtroopers that attacked my friends on Ilum? So yeah, take pride. Because you did something bad to do something good. That's what y'all do best. You're willing to do real bad stuff... but you don't do it for no reason. If you go 'round and gun people down, don't care about who you hurt in the process... then you're no better than them and you'll catch yourself at the receiving end of my blade." Her look was hard and firm on his eyes as she took another pull of her cigarette.

A light chuckle escaped her as she shook her head. "Ya know... if things played out differently, I'd be wearin' that too." She gestured to his room and the faint sight of his armour. "Moved in with my mom on Hefi, joined the Mandos, trained up as one... and pulled the trigger on anyone who thought they could hurt others and get away with it for no reason. But that ain't me. I chose to be a Jedi. I'm supposed to look for other solutions and avoid killing people as much as possible... but that ain't you. Just as long as you don't lose yourself and become like the people you shot." She sighed and sat back for a moment. This talk was getting way too heavy for her.

Her gaze shifted back to the stairwell for a moment. "Hey... you, uh... think I could check that Basilisk out by any chance? Without it trying to step on me?" She asked with a chuckle.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

"Why?" She asked simply. "Why should you be a cold, bloodthirsty killer?"

He would remain silent at the inquiry of the Jedi. He pondered the answer when she fell silent for a moment, taking a drag from her cigarra; the way she had raised him that question, he deduced it to be a rhetorical question. He self reflected nevertheless. The only way he saw himself to become such an individual -as much as he thought for it to be quite the stretch- was if he were to completely lose his rationality.

Shifting his gaze back on Ara, he gave her a brief nod of his head in acknowledgement and concurrence as she continued speaking after taking a long drag of her smoke.

"Yeah, you're a Mando. No arguing that. Y'all are killers, that's what you're known for. Probably the best in the galaxy. But you didn't do anything wrong." She took a sip of her new beer and set it aside. "You killed people that deserved it. I ain't a killer, as Jedi we should preserve all life and only harm as a last resort. But you? You saved a thousand people today. You could have grabbed your heads and cashed your creds but you came with me to help me free them. You didn't kill those people just for shits and giggles. You killed 'em because they were evil." Her voice was firm but sincere as she watched him.

"If you're just a killer who don't give a kriff about pulling the trigger, then what makes you better than the people you just killed? What makes you better than the stormtroopers that attacked my friends on Ilum? So yeah, take pride. Because you did something bad to do something good. That's what y'all do best. You're willing to do real bad stuff... but you don't do it for no reason. If you go 'round and gun people down, don't care about who you hurt in the process... then you're no better than them and you'll catch yourself at the receiving end of my blade."

His gaze briefly averted from hers as he gave her words a thought; he couldn’t help but agree with her assessment of the facts. Her assessment did not strike him as untrue, or faulty as he pondered. He hadn’t considered a perspective akin to hers on the subject matter. He did carry out some bad, terrible things today; but said deeds were not at all carried out bereft of reason, and it was to achieve something good at the end of it all, rescuing those people. The latter was something he not at all considered a few moments ago. One thousand men and women…

He could most certainly get behind that way of thinking; getting dirty so the rest of the galaxy remained clean. It seemed that it was how they were portrayed, seen as by the outsiders to their creed. They were ridding the galaxy of scum with one blaster bolt at a time, after all.

Gesturing his agreement to her notion with a profuse nod at the new perspective Ara had given him, and at the idea in his mind, the kid shifted his gaze back at Jedi’s, meeting the hard and firm gaze of the girl. ”I don’t think you will have to worry about finding me at the cutting end of your saber one day,” his lips curled to a smile as he remarked, not minding the harsh glare she gave him.

Ya know... if things played out differently, I'd be wearin' that too." She gestured to his room and the faint sight of his armour.

Although his smile was not completely replaced with surprise by her unexpected statement, he could not stifle his interest from emerging to his features; his head tilted to the side in silent intrigue. ”How so?” he asked her curiously.

. "Moved in with my mom on Hefi, joined the Mandos, trained up as one... and pulled the trigger on anyone who thought they could hurt others and get away with it for no reason. But that ain't me. I chose to be a Jedi. I'm supposed to look for other solutions and avoid killing people as much as possible... but that ain't you. Just as long as you don't lose yourself and become like the people you shot."

”I see,” he muttered. He began to wonder why she pursued the life of a Jedi instead of a Mandalorian’s now, following her remark. Why didn’t she join her mother on Hefi? What led her to make the choice to become a Jedi?

He would have to voice such questions at a later time, if he’d ever meet her again and would have the opportunity to ask and satisfy his intrigue; her body language suggested she no longer wished to converse in such topics as she leaned back against the back cushion of the couch. It had to be a sensitive topic for her to discuss then, he thought to himself.

Not long after her remark, he saw her gaze shift to a corner outside the living room, towards the stairs leading to the loading bay of the warehouse.

"Hey... you, uh... think I could check that Basilisk out by any chance? Without it trying to step on me?" She asked with a chuckle.

”I thought you had already satisfied your curiosity,” he quipped with a chuckle. A muffled, pained groan escaped his lips as he stood up to his feet, still suffering from the nasty bruising. Nonchalantly tossing the empty beer can in his hands into a trashcan nearby, he turned to the Jedi before he spoke. ”But sure thing! So long as you don’t provoke it,” he chuckled as he teased her further. ”Come on then,” he beckoned her to follow as he walked out the room and down the stairs at a slow pace to allow her to catch up.

”I was in the process of running a lengthy diagnostics check on its systems. I had it running for a few hours before I left to carry out my bounty today,” he explained to her as he approached the terminal; the iron beast lied dormant several feet behind the terminal, with all its might and weapons on display. ”I hope your tampering did not affect the process,” he muttered as he leaned closer to the terminal, looking and viewing the streams of data showing on the screen.

​

 

[Ara Sheridan]

Kayl's curiosity didn't escape the Zabrak as she looked at him. She had a feeling that it was going to come up later. But for now, her big interest was the massive droid in his basement. Ara followed after him downstairs, immediately shifting her hand to her lightsaber again as the massive machine came into view. That fright had her on edge around it, but she still wanted to get a closer look at it.

”I was in the process of running a lengthy diagnostics check on its systems. I had it running for a few hours before I left to carry out my bounty today,”

”I hope your tampering did not affect the process,”

Ara's lips pursed as she glanced over at him. "Me neither." She quipped as she looked away. The last thing they needed was a War Droid going haywire. "Didn't seen any stuff in progress when I checked the screen." She continued with a guilty smile. Granted, the screen was locked and she had no clue on how to get past that security. Might be worth asking him to teach her.

While he fiddled with the terminal, Ara carefully approached the dormant Basilisk with very careful steps. If it was going to stand up again, she was out of there. The rotary cannon, the cockpit's armour staring at her like some demonic eyes, the sheer size of it... she didn't have to think hard on how much destruction this thing could dish out. She had read up on enough exploits from the Mandalorians to know what they were capable of. "If you got an issue mechanically, I can always give it a whirl. I'd love to take a peak under this baby's plates..." She quipped as she walked around it.

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Coruscant | Coruscant Underworld, Lower Levels
Tags: Ara Sheridan

​

Her lighthearted quip and explanation would be lost on him as the kid silently viewed the terminal’s screen, shifting through the streams of data, taking in all of the details. Even though the rows of data would appear to be flowing faster than one could read; knowing exactly what to look for in each line, that did not have an affect on a techie like him.

The Misfit broke his silence not long after viewing the screen; he heaved a breath of relief. Data was not at all lost by the Jedi’s curious tampering of the Basilisk War Droid. Connection was stable, and the diagnostics check was complete; as he had perceived, the iron beast was in great condition, in confines of both its hardware and software.

Though just less than a handful of armaments seemed like they could use recalibration. With a brief nod of his head at the sentiment, the kid straightened up and pried his eyes away from the bright glow of the screen; he saw the understandable unease of the Jedi after he turned to pay her a glance. Understandably so, she was taking things slow and extra careful after an unexpected encounter with the War Droid earlier.

”You don’t need to be afraid,” he said in a soft tone in an attempt to relieve her from her apprehension. ”I have designated you as a friendly to the War Droid. You don’t have to worry about the iron beast stirring up to neutralize you anymore,” he clarified. ”Well, as long as you do not display acts of hostility towards it or me, that is.” he quipped with a chuckle with a soft nod of his head to her hand over her lightsaber.

If you got an issue mechanically, I can always give it a whirl. I'd love to take a peak under this baby's plates..." She quipped as she walked around it.

His lips curled to a smile as he fell silent, listening to her quip. ”Since you said so nicely…” he muttered to Ara as he turned around to interact with the terminal again. His fingers danced over the terminal’s keyboard at quite a swift pace, punching in a set of commands into it. Not long after he pressed ‘ENTER’ to execute said commands, the optical cluster of the iron beast glowing with a faint red hue was extinguished.

Disappearing under the table for a moment as he ducked to retrieve something, he would emerge with a toolkit in his hand. ”Let’s check what’s under the fuselage,” he said with a smile; mirth and excitement would be apparent in his voice. It was not often he came across an individual that had an appreciation towards the intricacies of machinery.

And the machine in question could be regarded as a marvel of technology, praised and hallowed by his people.

Moving past her at a brisk pace, he lowered himself to a crouch as his free hand swept over the War Droid’s plating; caressing it gently with an affection with that of a lover for their beloved. Placing the toolkit beside him, it did not take him long to unscrew a piece of large armor plating off, revealing the sophisticated hardware underneath. ”I’d be running its routine maintenance sometime next week, but there’s no harm in doing it earlier,” he remarked as he paid her a glance over his shoulder. ”I would not say no to an extra pair of experienced hands,” he invited her to join him with a smile.

”I could let you check out the cockpit after we’re done,” he continued as he reached for a hydrospanner from his toolkit. ”If you promise me you won’t tamper with the control dashboard and panels,” he teased her further with a chuckle.

​