Private Power Vacuum

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Thick plumes of smoke rolled between the towers in slow, endless currents, bleeding into one another until the skyline blurred into a single, choking mass. Structures climbed over each other in uneven layers, some sharp and deliberate, others built on top of things that should've collapsed years ago. Light barely made it through. What did reach the lower levels came fractured - cut by durasteel, warped by haze, swallowed before it ever touched the ground.

Ace stood along a high-span walkway, looking out over it. From here, you could almost mistake it for order. Vertical lines. Moving traffic. Towers that looked like they belonged to something organized, something deliberate. That illusion didn't survive long.

His gaze lowered, to where it mattered. Movement broke apart the closer you looked. Lanes that should've flowed clean instead stalled, redirected, collapsed inward. People didn't move with purpose, they reacted. Every shift came too fast and too sharp, like no one trusted the space around them to hold for more than a second at a time.

A flash of motion caught his attention below. A stall overturned, a scrap, someone stepping in. Not to stop it, but to take something in the confusion. It escalated immediately without hesitation or awareness of consequence. Just impulse. It was almost nostalgic in a way.

Then a blaster came out, faster than it should've been. The shot cracked through the lane and the entire space broke. People scattered in every direction, bodies colliding, goods spilling across the ground. The fight fractured outward, pulling more into it instead of containing itself.

Ace watched it for half a second. Then he stepped off the ledge. The drop cut clean through the smoke, landing in the middle of it just as another shot came. His hand caught the shooter's wrist, redirected the barrel, the bolt tearing past into a support column behind him.

He didn't need to draw his blade. With a sharp turn and a shift in weight, the shooter hit the ground hard enough to stay there. The others hesitated and Ace's gaze moved between them, steady, controlled. Not anger. Not threat. Certainty.

"Walk."

They backed off. One at a time and within seconds, the space reset itself. People moving again. Faster now. Quieter. Like the moment had never existed. Ace straightened slowly, eyes already moving past them.

Everywhere he looked, it was the same pattern. Breaks in the system and gaps no one was filling. Too many people trying to take, but no one strong enough to hold. His gaze lifted again, cutting through the haze toward the towers above. The higher you looked, the cleaner it seemed. Less noise. Less chaos. That was always the lie.

Tessk had built something here. It was ugly, brutal, but it worked. Everything moved because it had somewhere to go. Someone to answer to. Ace had torn that out and left it hollow.

Now the Vergeworks was doing what it always did when left alone. Eating itself. His hand brushed against the comm at his side. The call had already been made.

Naboo. That's where Lysander had been last, playing his part in "diplomacy" with the Republic. Regardless, Lysander would come. Not out of obligation, but because of their unique bond. Mirrors, and their shared love for Fatine.

He moved with the crowd into a narrow, overlooked junction and settled there, watching the flow. Lysander would be here soon.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound​

It was almost as if Lysander had forsaken this corner of the galaxy for ages. The Core had been the domain for the past half year, a place that still reeked of weakness, with occasional forays through the Byss-Hoth hypergates to commune beyond the infamous Black Wall. Real ones knew that veil only parted for those with power. Time upon the Mid Rim's gem, Naboo, was what he believed to be a necessary charade, one that would soon conclude.

Most would've needed a damn good reason to pull him away from current tasks. Acier was the exception. One transmission, and within hours, a plausible story was offered to his hosts, as he vanished before anyone had a chance to object.

The Sith prowled through the district, golden hair hidden beneath an obsidian scowl. A heavy cloak whipped around him like an extension of the void swelling in his soul. On Naboo such attire would have revealed him as a monster; here, it mirrored his inner descent.

Vergeworks was anything but pleasant on the eye. The definition of forsaken. Beauty here was rare, like finding a kyber crystal still red with the blood of its previous master. A wasteland that existed through violence and will. Survival demanded strength. The weak were ground underfoot.. as it should be.. the Dark was not meant to coddle its children.

A blaster discharge pierced the air. Lysander barely blinked while pressing forward, just canting his head. Then came the delicious aftermath. Fear rippling outward, panic spiking like tendrils of Force lightning. Herds scattered in terror. The young Sith inhaled these emotions, letting them feed the hunger in his chest. Curious that no life force had been snuffed out..

But not all who followed the Dark were reckless, and not all were clever. Some slaughtered for the sake of bloodlust. Still, there was surely a deeper reason that correction over execution was chosen, and so he took note.

A silhouette gave into shape at last. When he stopped, the last of drifting ash curled past him. Emerald eyes, devoid of warmth, locked onto the other figure. "The kill would have been justified," the Sith remarked with a nonchalant shrug, as if discussing the disposal of waste rather than a sentient being.

"I suspect you didn't invite me here for another body to put rounds on," he let the words unfurl between them. Not that he would've minded another sparring session. The realm of hand-to-hand would forever be his language of choice. Controlled violence that demanded higher intellect.

"What future do you see for Vergeworks?" Or perhaps there was another purpose beyond the summons. The cowl was lowered, a half-smile creasing the scar on his cheek. "Tell me your plan, and I'll act in accordance." A promise rare in these lawless times, but one fitting the value of the man before him.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace could feel Lysander, his Thread cut clean through it all, something sharp and deliberate woven through the Vergeworks. Where everything else tangled and frayed: fear, desperation, instinct. His moved with direction. Controlled. Predatory. Like a blade sliding between threads without disturbing the weave.​

​

Ace didn't turn at first. He let it settle, let the pattern confirm itself. Then the Ukatian's voice came. Ace's gaze stayed forward, maybe the kill would have been justified.​

​

"Waste of time." He answered. "If he keeps on, someone else will put him down."​

​

The words sat there, simple, final. Lysander's next remark drew a faint smirk from him, followed by a quiet huff under his breath. Ace shifted slightly, folding his arms across his chest.​

​

"Not this time."​

​

He let that sit for a moment before his attention drifted outward again, past the lane, past the people, taking in the wider spread of it. The fractures. The noise. The way it all kept trying, and failing, to hold.​

​

Then Lysander asked it. What future did he see for Vergeworks? What was the plan? Ace lowered his arms to his sides, posture loosening as his gaze swept across the district.​

​

"Order and stability. Didn't have that growing up here."​

​

He tilted his head slightly, a quiet signal, then started forward without waiting, expecting Lysander to fall in beside him as the crowd swallowed them both.​

​

"Around a year ago, I killed this place's kingpin." There was no pride in his tone, just a statement of fact. "As you can see… I left a big mess behind."​

​

His hand came up briefly, adjusting the sleeve of his leather jacket as they moved through the shifting flow of bodies and steel.​

​

"So the plan?" He continued. "First, I shut it down. The fighting, the scrambling, crews trying to take more than they can hold. Anyone pushing the chaos gets removed. Then, when it's quiet… I start rebuilding it properly."​

​

He didn't expand on that. Not yet. The details were already there, locked in place. Routes. Structure. Roles. Stability. Something that held because it was meant to, not because it was feared into place.​

​

Ace's gaze flicked sideways, tracking movement at the edge of the lane before continuing.​

​

"There's three big players left." He said. "Rival leaders holding what's left of everything."​

​

He counted them off without looking.​

​

"Gruto. Feeorin. Runs his own crew. Corr Rene. Controls another. And Splicer." A slight pause. "Protocol droid. Heads the last one."​

​

He slowed, then came to a stop, turning just enough to glance at Lysander.​

​

"We're going to draw them out." He said. "Enough pressure, enough disruption that they're forced into the same space. Then we take them out in one go."​

​

Lysander von Ascania ​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound​

Lysander’s thoughts slowing was a rare thing; never accidental. Even with the noise of the Vergeworks pressing in, his mind stepped back from it. A waste of time. Perhaps there was truth in it. Natural selection carried its own rhythm. Whether today or next week, someone would surely cull the reckless fool. And lately, though he preached purpose over carnage, there was an undeniable hunger. A sharper edge to his patience that was growing. Whether Tapani or the recent actions upon Balmorra, every time the Covenant decided to slide, it felt as if an entire world was about to end.

The blonde fell into step beside the other Sith before his mind decided. The crowd enveloped them but he navigated through the press of humanity, or what was left of it, like a man walking through mist. His thoughts threatened to race, until he forced them to flow, almost like lowering one’s heartbeat after a long run. From there, Acier’s words settled into the corners of his consciousness. He probed for flaws. The habit was almost like a shield he couldn’t set down.. even when he wanted to.

He let out a slow breath, almost contemplative, feeling the Darker currents.. like two predators circling in mutual assessment. Even rarer for their kind, was to recognize each other’s power without baring teeth.

“Perhaps instead of leaving a mess, you just revealed one,” offered at last. “Once you put Tessk in the mud, the structure just began showing its true shape." The heresy of his next thought would go unspoken. Fear conquered, yes, but rarely sustained. Some Sith Lords understood this privately, though few admitted it.

“You wanting to rebuild it properly.. that just means you grasp something they never did.” In some ways, it mirrored his own vision for bringing order to the Covenant.

Another triumvirate in some ways, three points that would not hold. “Sounds like each one lacks the strength to seize it all. Yet.. none will bow to the others.” The irony wasn’t lost on him that he served a similar arrangement. Perhaps that’s why he saw through it so clearly.. even this far out on Bondadan. “Your strategy to lure them out is solid,” Lysander said. “Attack them individually, and the remaining two will have to compensate. But corner all three together.. and nature takes over.” He paused, considering. “The droid sounds like a wild card.” Though he had rarely encountered combat droids, the Knight was untroubled by the idea.

A hand was placed momentarily on Acier’s shoulder. “There’s patience in your strategy. A quality most of our kind fail to cultivate.”

Brows furrowed, but he wasn’t considering any further variables. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he folded his hands before him. “Let me find out you’re trying to carve out a little corner of the galaxy for you and Fatine.” Equal parts levity and curiosity.. without any challenge. That particular sister had been absent from his orbit for some time now..

The Dark offered gifts.. but the sacrifices could haunt you.

“How is she doing these days, anyway?”

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Lysander's words settled in layers, not as praise, but as recognition. His gaze drifted slightly, not losing focus on their surroundings, but turning inward just enough to follow the thought through. Tessk hadn't built something clean. He'd forced structure onto something unstable and called it control. Removing him hadn't broken the system. It had exposed it.​

​

Ace didn't respond to that, not out loud, but he just accepted it. Lysander continued, dissecting the plan, testing it, refining it in real time. When the mention of the droid came, the wildcard, Ace's attention shifted back fully.​

​

"Easiest one." He said simply.​

​

To him, it was. Machines made sense. They followed rules. You learned them, and they either worked or they didn't. People complicated things. Droids didn't.​

​

The hand on his shoulder came and went without reaction. For Ace, that was normal. The absence of response was its own kind of acknowledgment.​

​

"Yeah." He said, almost offhand. "You'd think "our kind" would've adapted by now."​

​

His gaze flicked toward Lysander just in time to catch the smirk forming. He already knew where that was going. The mention of Fatine followed exactly as expected, and the corner of his lip tugged, barely there, but real.​

​

"If I was… it wouldn't be here."​

​

The Vergeworks wasn't a place you built anything worth keeping. Not like that, and not for her. That thought stayed unspoken, but it settled firmly in his mind.​

​

Then came the question. How was she? Ace didn't answer immediately. For a moment, the noise of the Vergeworks faded just enough to let something else surface. The Ukatian countryside. Open space. Quiet. The manor. He could still picture it. Fatine in that setting felt… right in a way nothing else did.​

​

He thought briefly of Cora, of Luciana, of the stillness of that place. And in a quieter corner of that memory, there was something else... an outline of Lysander, not as he stood now, but something more distant. Removed. He didn't dwell on it.​

​

"She's… good." He said finally. His tone was steady, but quieter than before. "I try to keep this part of our lives away from her. She doesn't like it." He paused slightly. "But… she won't leave me. I won't leave her. So…"​

​

The sentence trailed off. There wasn't a clean way to finish it, so he let it go. His gaze shifted forward again, the Vergeworks pulling back into focus as they moved.​

​

"And you and Naniti?" He asked, briefly, not pressing, just returning the question in kind.​

​

He didn't wait long before shifting them back to the reason they were here.​

​

"Come on."​

​

Ace angled off the main lane, cutting into a tighter lane where the flow thinned and the noise sharpened into something more functional. Less crowd. More purpose.​

​

"Gruto's got a shipment moving through here." He said as they walked. "Parts, credits, doesn't matter. It's one of the few things he's still got control over. We take it. Rene hears about it, she thinks he's slipping. Splicer picks up the disruption, starts recalculating." He briefly glanced sideways. "They start leaning on each other."​

​

Ahead, the lane opened slightly, just enough to reveal movementL workers, crates, a guarded flow that didn't match the chaos elsewhere. Ace's focus narrowed.​

​

"First push." He said quietly.​

​

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound​

Lysander watched as Ace’s visage change at the mention of his sister, which revealed more than words ever could. By then, something twisted in his chest. The Covenant. The Sith. The darkness that had become his home. One he believed himself no longer capable of escaping.

"Some paths we walk alone," he said finally, voice low. "But that doesn't mean we walk them without those we care for watching from a distance." A glance passed between them, Sith to Sith. "She always had good judgment. If she's chosen to stand by you despite.. everything else, then she sees something worth believing in." One corner of his mouth pulled upward. "Trust her judgment. I always have. Besides, family always finds ways to hold together.. even across divides." A truth he held onto, even as his homeworld became more and more unreachable.

Then, the Togruta’s name caught him off guard. Fingers stilled against the curved hilt tucked within his cloak. "Naniti and I..." A muscle in his throat worked as he swallowed. "She’s well, from what I gather. I mean, we still see each other.. when fate allows such. She understands parts of me others can't. Or won't." His focus drifted to the middle distance, searching for anything beyond their current surroundings.

A rueful smile touched his lips. "Desevro brought us together. Obligations on Coruscant pulled us apart. The way of things, perhaps.”

When it came down to it, she’d been the only one to see the messy pieces and not try to rearrange them into something 'acceptable'. But, he offered nothing more. Whatever weakness she represented in him, it wasn't something he'd expose here.. not even to Fatine's chosen.

The emerald of his irises flickered before gold bled in from the edges. Something cold unfurled beneath his skin next. There was a hairline fracture in that composure, invisible to most, sure, but now the target before them gave that fracture somewhere to spread. Crimson anger was seeping into the Force around them.

A fething warning to those sensitive enough to feel it.

"Break the supply chain," Lysander observed, "and you break their confidence." Fingers flexed at his side.. a fighter’s tell. "No different than working the body before going for the kill shot. First you strip away what they depend on.." He studied the scene ahead with detachment, calculating angles of approach as one did inside the ring. “Then you strip away whatever they thought they stood for." Old shockboxer wisdom.

The blonde's gaze fell upon his black boots; they were scuffed from countless confrontations.. just like this one. Then it shifted over to Acier. "I kinda want this job done proper messy," came the words in a lower, dangerous tone. "Loud enough for everyone to hear its echo. Let the whole damn Verge know who's come calling, and that we're not just another crew."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Lysander's words about Fatine settled more deeply than Ace expected them to. He didn't show much of it outwardly, but something in them carried a quiet reassurance he hadn't realized he needed. Trust her judgment. Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded sentimental. From Lysander, it landed as something harder earned. Truer. Ace carried that with him in silence.

Then Naniti. The shift in Lysander was immediate enough for him to catch, even if most wouldn't have. It wasn't in the words alone. It was in the hesitation around them. A fractional uncertainty where there was usually none. The slightest fracture in a presence so often held together by will. Vulnerability. Rare enough that Ace noticed it for what it was.

He didn't overanswer. "Yeah."

Just that. An acknowledgment, and maybe, in its own restrained way, understanding.

His attention drifted back ahead where the lane opened just enough to reveal movement. Workers shifting crates. Armed figures pacing routes that looked too disciplined for the surrounding chaos. A guarded flow running beneath the disorder. His eyes tracked all of it while Lysander spoke of breaking confidence like working the body before the kill shot.

A faint smirk touched Ace's mouth, though it never reached his eyes. "Exactly."

Then Lysander said he wanted it messy. Loud. A statement. Ace's gaze remained forward.

"No." A moment passed before he elaborated. "I get why you'd want to." His eyes stayed on the shipment lane. "But it's not the play right now."

He shifted slightly, measuring guards, counting bodies.

"If we make ourselves the story too early, the whole district reacts to us instead of to each other." His tone stayed even, almost instructional. "Fear consolidates people. I don't want them united. I want them suspicious. Pressure works better when nobody knows whose hand is on the lever."

That was more his way. Quiet force and invisible structure. He let the thought sit before adding,

"We make it loud enough they feel it. But not loud enough they trace it back to us."

Not yet. His hand dropped to his hilt. A sharp hiss split through the industrial noise as blue light ignited in the haze, casting cold reflections across crates and steel supports.

Ahead, one of the guards began to turn. Ace rolled his shoulders once, then tilted his head slightly toward Lysander and moved. Fast.

A blue arc flashed through the haze as Ace cut from cover in a low burst, crossing the lane before recognition ever became reaction. The first sentry barely turned before the blade passed through him in a clean diagonal stroke, dropping him where he stood.

Without pause, his off-hand shot out, wrenching the second guard forward into the path of a reverse cut that opened sparks and flesh alike. The body hit stacked cargo hard enough to send crates shuddering loose.

A third reached for a blaster and Ace stepped inside the draw and drove the lightsaber straight through the man's torso, ripped it free in one fluid motion and let the body collapse at his feet.

Then silence cracked, followed by shouts, movement, and panic. The shipment had just become unstable.

Exactly as intended.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound
​

Grit from the industrial haze had already settled at the back of his throat when Acier's words cut through the clamor. One corner of the mouth pulled slightly. Approval tempered by hunger. Perhaps the other's Sith restraint was the more elegant blade on this given day. Silence stretched for a few seconds, and palms flexed against his belt under the robes, fingers spreading once, then stilling. "Yeah, you're right," his mind traced those invisible lines between enemies and allies, "Better they spend their energy doubting each other. Otherwise, it'll just paint a target on our backs and create more alliances."

There was more to it. Not the time, though. There was an undeniable hunger for destruction lately, choosing to swing a hammer, one might say. To leave something broken and unmistakable. But the heart would always want what it wants. And lately? His was becoming darker. At least he was self-aware enough to recognize this impulse, the folly of so many Sith.. the ones who burned their own safehouses down. For now, that was enough. He wasn't sure how much longer it would be.

When the other rolled forward, shedding all shadows, his own saber with crimson fire burst to life a heartbeat later behind the blue. The shift was sensed, the grammar of another man's violence, a good cue as ever to step; this was a reflex honed by countless missions survived together.

The air whooshed as he sprang from cover. Boots slapped on grating, watching as his first target turned too slowly. Lysander's downward stroke redirected mid-arc into a lateral sweep that caught the man at the hip; he folded without a sound, which was almost disappointing. The next had a blaster half-raised when he stepped inside the angle and drove a short elbow into the bridge of the man's nose. Something snapped under the impact, cartilage in that particular way, wet with crimson. Even through the recovery, he ran straight through him.

Given that this was Acier's home, he was the leader of this mission; he asked for fear dispersed, suspicion sown, so the blonde did just that.. a glimpse of noise, and enough to put a little fracture in their faith of order. That hunger was still sitting hot in his chest. Not what he would have chosen, but he could respect Ace's play without any resistance. If nothing else, he'd always been a team player when it counted.

​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace had learned quickly that Lysander wasn't one thing. There was the version most people saw first. The one wrapped in measured words and philosophy, speaking like every thought had already been weighed before it left his mouth. There was something refined about him, something almost principled in the way he carried himself. He cared, quietly, selectively, but genuinely. About his allies and family, the few people he allowed close. That version of Lysander was… steady. Honest in a way that didn't need to be said out loud.

That was the one Ace could tolerate. Maybe even trust.

But there was another side. Ace had felt it before. On Chandrila and Rattatak, moments where the air around him shifted, where that composure gave way to something sharper, something hungrier. On Balmorra, it had deepened. Here, in the Vergeworks, it settled around him like a second presence. A black shroud threaded through his movements, subtle but unmistakable.

This was the version that concerned him. Not because it was unstable, because it wasn't. It was focused, and if that focus ever lost direction or worse... Ace couldn't ignore the thought that followed. Would he have to put him down?

The question came and went just as quickly, filed away with everything else he didn't have time to feel. Because despite it all… they worked. Dangerously well. Ace moved, and Lysander moved with him - not behind or ahead, just where he needed to be. No signals were needed and the space between them closed and shifted like something alive, each step feeding into the next. It wasn't coordination. It was instinct. Like a hunt already decided. A Loth-wolf pack closing in.

Ace slipped through the haze of steam and smoke as he cut inside a cluster of scrambling figures. One turned too late, Ace's lightsaber struck across the chest and sent him crashing into the railing behind him.

Another raised a weapon; Ace pivoted, deflecting the shot wide before driving forward, shoulder low, forcing the man off balance and down. He didn't stop. The path opened, and he followed it, trusting without thinking that Lysander would fill the gaps he left behind. Because he always did. Because he knew he would.

It didn't take long for the pair to clear out the area. The noise died down in pieces. First the shouting, then the scattered movement, until all that remained was the low hum of machinery and the distant grind of the city carrying on like nothing had happened.

Ace slowed, letting the last of that momentum bleed off as he stepped over a fallen body. His lightsaber dipped slightly at his side, still active, still casting that steady blue glow across the metal around him.

Then he stopped, gaze shifting to Lysander. He just watched. Ace's expression didn't change much, but there was a pause there.

"Lysander." His voice came as it always did. Low. Even. Dry. "You alright?"

Lysander von Ascania ​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound
​

There was only quiet, arriving just before the machine of his body remembered what it was built for. Strange relief, he thought, that the heart didn't race but instead sank, plunging him deeper into the Dark which already owned him. Breath came slower, ribs grinding against black cloth like bones settling into a coffin. These past months.. violence had become his only language.. the only clarity in a galaxy of lies. Diplomacy once felt sacred, a foundation worth worshipping, but that line he'd sworn to guard cracked and crumbled. Light thrummed through the saber, vibrating up into the bones of his cold grip.

The haze of the Vergeworks curled around him, steam rising in venomous ribbons that caught the red glow and made it look like the air was bleeding. Beautiful.. too beautiful.. like watching a something die in slow motion. Today, anything moving toward him that wasn't Acier would simply cease.

It was then, another figure found his way from the shadows. The body knew before the mind did; a single pivot, a downward cut, and an arm was taken at the shoulder rather than the life.. because death was a mercy Lysander hadn't decided to give yet. A scream tore out into the air, then died as the riposte fell true.

Disappointing, really. Was this all? He wanted more resistance. The hate had nowhere to go now, and that was almost worse. Past the falling body, crates, his gaze shifted through everything. He stared into the distance as though watching for something.. someone.. but there was nothing there. Just a city swallowing its own noise. In that emptiness his mind slipped.. not absence of focus, but a focus turned inward on an old wound that had no location. Always bleeding..

Yellow bled outward from the pupil, swallowed the green in the way rot claimed flesh. A thing that had been made, not born. Prophetic.. almost. The eyes of a saint or a skull, he could no longer tell which.

When Acier spoke, Lysander let the silence stretch. The saber painted the underside of his jaw.

"No." The word came out with the same simplicity Ace always offered him, and that was the truest thing spoken in months. "Not for a while now." And that was extended like a blade laid on a table between them.

Feelings earned you no merit in the galaxy, best left to those still genuflecting at the altar of the Light. What remained when all of that weakness burned away was outcome. The Covenant, at least, grasped that much, for all their flaws. For now he just waited for the next step, direction.. someone else to cut through.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's connection to the Force had always run deeper than most. Yes, it was loud and sometimes overwhelming. But it was also... precise, the kind that picked up on things others missed entirely. Subtle shifts. Fractures in intent. The weight behind silence. It was likely tied to the Final Weave, something in him attuned to threads not just as presence, but as meaning. It was half the reason he was so good at fighting too.

Most people blurred together in the Vergeworks. Noise layered over noise. Lysander didn't. His Thread cut through everything and right now, it wasn't clean. Ace felt it all as it bled outward: controlled on the surface, but underneath it? Hunger. Not the sharp, focused kind either. This was heavier. Lingering. Violence not as a tool, but as something closer to language. Something he was starting to need.

There was something else beneath it too. Quieter, older, a wound that didn't sit in one place long enough to be named, but never stopped bleeding either.

Ace didn't react outwardly to any of it, but he saw it. When Lysander answered honestly, Ace's gaze moved over him once, taking everything in. His posture, the stillness, the way he held his lightsaber. Then his eyes settled again, catching the gold bled into green. He knew what that meant.

"I see." The words came flat, dry as always, but just a shade softer than usual.

He didn't push or ask anything else. They weren't built for that. If Lysander needed something deeper, someone to sit in that space with him, Ace already knew who that would be. Naniti

So he left it where it was. Unsaid yet understood. Because truthfully… it wasn't just him. Both of them were carrying more than they let show.

The noise of the Vergeworks crept back in around them, filling the space where the moment had been. The shipment was done. Disrupted. The first piece moved. Now they waited, for pressure to ripple, for reactions to form, and for the other players to start moving.

Ace let out a quiet breath through his nose, the tension bleeding off just enough to notice it. His blade snapped off with a sharp hiss, blue light collapsing back into the hilt. He ran a gloved hand back through his ashen locs, pushing them away from his face before his gaze shifted upward to a nearby rooftop.

Better sightlines and less noise. He flicked his head toward it, then moved. The Force coiled beneath his feet and released in a single motion, carrying him upward in a clean arc. He landed on the rooftop without a sound. Straightening, he turned back toward the edge. He didn't look down. Lysander would follow.

When he did, however he chose to, Ace waited, gaze angled back toward the district below as movement slowly began to return to its broken rhythm. A few seconds passed but then, without looking at him:

"What happened?"

For once, it wasn't about the mission. Ace had stepped past his usual distance. Past the disinterest. Just enough to actually see Lysander. And ask.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound​

Lysander's thumb found the emitter and pressed. The snap hiss was short, the cimson blade collapsing inward with a bloom of heat against his palm. He held it a moment longer, feeling the warmth bleed out like a pulse, before dropping his arm. A forefinger pressed to one side of his nose, a sharp rasp of an inhale, and he spat onto the slab to clear his airway.

He stared out over the Vergeworks, wrestling with a dull pressure in the back of his skull, some electric static singing back behind one's temple, tracing back to the the Galactic Kaggath.. the concussion, the moment he nearly didn't walk away. How long had it been now? Long enough that he should've stopped noticing it. The world of Bonadan tilted for a second and he rolled his shoulders once, shaking it off.

He didn't turn immediately when the question hovered in the air between them. One that didn't regard the mission this time, but about him. He just let the winds carry the words away. The gold in his gaze flickered, something prophetic, and far older than his visage suggested. The blonde could already taste the weight of what would be left unsaid.

"Just Covenant matters. Carrying a bit more than I should." More than he should, because other's were too lazy to shoulder the burden of building something worthwhile. Six months minimum, surrounded by Sith who had every advantage and chose to do absolutely nothing with it. From his perspective, it was nothing more than self-serving stagnation, no desire for leadership nor other responsibilities, and no vision. Imagine being blind to opportunity lying so fatly at your feet. The Core lay ripe after the siege, infrastructure in ruins, direction lost, ambition dead. Few had a spine to move. Perhaps it was just different for Lysander now. He would never return to the Light; that door was sealed forever. But.. he would lay the foundation for the Covenant alone, if necessary.

One of his father's lesson whispered to him, one that made outlook simple: people made time for what was important to them. Business, relationships, ambitions. Intentions always revealed themselves in action. Ambition reveal themselves in the choices one protects. Naturally so, he was restless. That was why he was on the move and running game on Brentaal, carving out a second home on Zardossa Stix and pressing into Tapani's borders. All of that hinged on one desire: a governing body that might outlast the chaos among Sith.

Even so, he'd still answer when others called. Let people think whatever, he would still be there when it mattered; he'd simply stopped expecting the same in return. Acier included, in the sense that the door was open.

A slow breath was drawn in, then released. "I'll figure it out though."

Focusing on perimeter and the next steps, he glanced over at Ace. The strategist's mask slipped on. They had work to do. "So what's the next move?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace wandered toward the rooftop's parapet in silence. He placed both palms against the edge and leaned forward slightly, looking out over the Vergeworks as Lysander spoke behind him. Covenant matters. Carrying too much.

Ace listened. But what Lysander said didn't fully match what he felt. The Force carried it clearer than words ever could. Exhaustion buried beneath discipline. Isolation worn so long it had become routine. Burden stacked on burden until violence started feeling simpler than thought. Lysander's answers weren't lies exactly… just incomplete. Trimmed down into something easier to carry out loud.

Ace understood that better than most. This time, though, he didn't push further or try to force open something Lysander clearly intended to keep shut. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the district below as he spoke.

"Okay." Then, after a brief pause: "I owe you one, so if you need me…"

The sentence trailed naturally. It didn't need finishing. Ace let the silence settle for a moment before shifting slightly against the parapet.

"As for what's next…"

A low mechanical roar rolled overhead. Both men were briefly washed in passing light as a shuttle moved across the skyline above the Vergeworks, descending between the industrial towers toward one of the upper docking sectors. Unlike most traffic in the district, this one stood out. Polished and expensive.

Ace's eyes tracked it automatically. "…That's Rene's." His brow furrowed slightly. "No." He corrected himself. "Not because of us. Too fast."

His gaze followed the shuttle as it disappeared deeper into the district.

"She was already moving."

That interested him more. People like Corr Rene didn't travel personally unless something mattered. Which meant either: something was already shifting beneath the surface, or she believed it soon would be

The corner of Ace's mouth twitched faintly. "Maybe we just gave her worse timing."

He pushed himself off the parapet slowly, attention sharpening again.

"The shipment hit'll take time to spread. Crews will lock routes down first. Then accusations start." His eyes narrowed slightly. "But if Rene's already moving now… I want to know why." Ace glanced once toward Lysander. "We follow her."

There was a brief pause, he remembered how hungry Lysander was for violence tonight. How he was barely keeping it in. So, he added:

"Quietly."

Without waiting, he moved toward the far edge of the rooftop and dropped into motion, before the Force gathered beneath him again. He launched across the gap between buildings in a clean arc, coat snapping behind him as he landed on the next structure over.

He kept moving, staying high and using the skyline instead of the streets below. Ahead, through the haze and industrial glow, the distant shape of the shuttle continued deeper into the Vergeworks.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound
​

The wind came in off the Vergeworks carrying its usual cargo. In some ways, it reminded him of the Core. The bite of machinery running too hard, for too long. It scraped at the back of his throat. That wasn’t to say it was pleasant, exactly. More of a reminder. The kind of thing that matched the rest of him now, in ways he’d stopped trying to articulate. At least for the day..

One glance was shot back at Acier, the kind of look that wasn’t avoidance. There was a part of him that wasn’t opposed to what Ace had opened, that even wanted it, and then another part that understood that this wasn’t the moment.. and underneath both of those, somewhere he didn’t go to often, lived the questions he’d hadn’t actually said aloud. Those of Ace and Fatine, about the shape of what they were all building together. Naturally, he'd been invested since knowing of the situation.

Another wind sliced across his face; this time, colder under the promise of night. Acier’s words settled like mist in his chest. Half invitation, half command. A tremor beneath the Sith’s skin answered to the name Corr Rene, as if the syllables themselves carried the weight of a funeral bell. He acknowledged it all with an incline of his head. “Bet."

The hum of distant engines and the drum of the Kaggath pain entwined. The feeling was oddly uncomfortable feeling, whispering of more violence waiting. Lysander just let the hunger stir, always enough so to remind him he was alive.. dangerously alive. But he also kept it folded, a hibernating predator. Now was the time for silence and shadows..

What most people forgot, or never knew, was that the first lessons given to a child of House Marr when falling to the Dark had nothing to do with diplomacy or command. They'd been in the more particular patience required to end a life so quietly that the chosen never felt themselves become the chosen.

The same skillset used when putting down Ukatis' king.

Lysander moved after Ace without sound, cloak fluttering in ways he might have been nothing more than a ripple. The rooftops shifted beneath his boots.. slick patches of condensation here, corroded piping there. With each inhalation, he recalculated their path, as he wasn’t trying to thread the rooftops blindly.

A steam vent hissed on his left; he adjusted, sliding along another conduit. And then.. for a moment, his world tilted once more. Two currents running parallel, one sharp, one hollow.. like a tuning fork struck against the wrong surface. Redistributing his weight, exhaling through the nose once, he kept moving. He’d been quiet about the concussion’s aftermath, though it was becoming more difficult to hide.

All the while, the hunger paced inside him..at the leash.

“Lead on.”

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

The skyline shifted beneath Ace in broken layers of metal and steam as he moved from rooftop to rooftop, the Force carrying him cleanly across gaps that would've slowed anyone else. Ahead, the shuttle remained visible between the towers, descending deeper toward the upper industrial sectors.

Ace kept his pace steady. Lysander's presence stayed close behind him, quieter now, the hunger pulled tight at the leash instead of straining against it. Ace could still feel it threaded through the Force alongside the exhaustion underneath. He said nothing about it. For now, Lysander was still moving cleanly and that was enough.

A wide gap approached. Ace pushed off first, coat snapping sharply behind him as he cleared the space and landed in a crouch against the slanted roof of an old refinery platform. His eyes lifted immediately toward the skyline ahead - the shuttle was slowing.

A docking structure emerged through the haze several sectors over, built into the side of a massive vertical processing tower. Unlike the surrounding decay, this section still held shape. Reinforced walkways. Active security lights. Automated scanning arrays sweeping across incoming traffic. Too organized for locals.

Ace slowed near the edge of the roof, lowering slightly as he studied the structure.

"That's not one of Rene's usual sectors." He said quietly.

Which meant this wasn't routine movement. The shuttle disappeared into the tower's docking bay. Ace's eyes narrowed and he saw another shuttle already docked inside. Black hull, minimal markings.

His expression flattened slightly. "Broker vessel." He muttered.

Not a gang transport or local muscle. Neutral ground. The timing clicked into place quickly after that. Corr Rene had already been moving before the shipment hit. Meaning whatever meeting she was walking into had been planned in advance. The shipment disruption hadn't caused this, but it was about to complicate it.

Ace glanced sideways briefly toward Lysander. "If Rene's meeting someone here…" His gaze shifted back toward the tower. "Then one of the other players probably is too. Could be Gruto trying to secure support before things destabilize. Or Splicer running probabilities before making a move."

Neither option mattered much. What mattered was that all three threads were beginning to tighten toward the same point far earlier than Ace expected.

The wind cut across the rooftop again, carrying distant voices and the hum of active generators from the tower ahead. Ace stayed still for a moment longer, watching the movement patterns around the docking structure. Guards. Entrances. Blind spots. Then he straightened slightly.

"We're not hitting this place. Yet."

Instead, his gaze drifted toward a maintenance line running beneath the tower itself, half-concealed behind exhaust vents and industrial piping.

"But we are getting inside."

Lysander von Ascania ​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Acier Moonbound​

Lysander's eyes traced the towering structure. The Broker's influence brought clarity to the unfolding scene. Rene's swift action before the shipment unraveled wasn't luck; obviously a different force of power pulsed beneath it all.

Attention shifted toward Ace, who already discerned the pattern. "If the pressure's mounting sooner than expected, someone inside that tower must be exerting greater force than anticipated."

Drawing nearer to the roof's edge, Lysander's cloak whispered against metal as while peering down toward the maintenance shafts below.

A second glance toward Ace revealed an intensifying resolve in. "If you say we enter," the words came low. "Then entering is what we'll do."

He stepped toward the descent point.

Without waiting for confirmation, he dropped from the ledge, trusting Ace to follow as instinctively as breathing itself.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - Vergeworks

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace caught the shift in Lysander's expression the moment the same conclusion settled between them. Something inside the tower was accelerating movement before the Vergeworks should've started reacting naturally. That meant influence, someone was important enough that people were already repositioning around them before the first domino had even fully fallen.

Ace glanced toward Lysander briefly. Same certainty as always. Once Lysander committed to a direction, there was no hesitation after it. Then the other Sith dropped from the ledge without waiting.

A faint breath escaped Ace's nose, somewhere between expectation and amusement. He moved immediately after, descending through the maze of piping and exhaust vents beneath the tower. The maintenance line narrowed the deeper they went, forcing them beneath the visible arteries of the Vergeworks and into its older skeleton. Rusted conduits groaned overhead while steam hissed intermittently from fractured valves along the walls.

Ace landed lightly against a maintenance platform several levels below the main traffic lanes, eyes lifting immediately toward the corridor ahead. There were muffled voices beneath the machinery. At first.

Ace raised a hand slightly toward Lysander without looking back at him. His posture lowered instinctively as he moved closer to the edge of the corridor, staying within the shadows between support beams.

Two figures stood further ahead near a partially lit junction. One human, tall and armed. The other… a polished black protocol chassis. Splicer. Ace's eyes narrowed slightly.

Then another voice drifted faintly through the corridor from somewhere deeper inside the tower. Calm. Female. Corr Rene. Ace stayed completely still, realization settling quietly into place.

They weren't too late. They had arrived exactly when the Vergeworks started changing.

TO BE CONTINUED...​

Lysander von Ascania​