First Reply Pray

[The Fool]

Roman listened intently to the Sith who seemed to be thinking out loud. While he did not view the Sith, nor the Jedi for that matter, through the lenses of stereotype, it was always slightly surprising when one member of either religion drifted away from the galaxy's unbreakable stereotypes formed over eons upon eons. Wonder if it had been a co-op, the investigator thought, would've been ironic if I had been part of an ops nearly killing his brother. Probably not but who knows.

"Hmm." he mulled over the Sith's question. "Might be better to follow the ship she is on and get them elsewhere. We don't really have the firepower to take all of them head on-"

The rest of his sentence was cut short by the familiar swooshing sound of a missile launcher being fire. Their eyes snapped at the trail just as it struck the Selectivist's ship. Big impact. Another one followed hitting the luxurious barge hard throwing crates of goods and parts of both droids and men across the scenery.

"...but they do-"

"FOR THE EMPEROR!!!"

A voice boomed from the western building and a band of white masked brutes materialized on various other terraces around the platform. Children of the New Order. Unleashing a hell of blaster fire upon both the Bogusei and the Selectivists, dock 84 quickly evolved from a shady deal of weapon contraband into a warzone.

"Your pretty folks?" he sarcastically asked the Sith before adding louder. "This might be the best opportunity we will have."

That's, of course, if the Sith was still willing to secure St-Callais' daughter.

Was that even his goal?

So many questions with so many problematic scenarios.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Just as he was about to answer that he would, in fact, have access to a hell of a lot of firepower as soon as his fighter arrived, the locals decided to save them the wait. Children of the New Order. What a disgusting group of degenerate philistines.

"I would rather not be associated with those mongrels... but I suppose they can be useful."

Frowning at the mess, he took the chaos as an opportunity to approach and saw young St-Callais taking cover behind a cargo container - at least she had some modicum of sense within that rebellious brain of hers. "All we need to do is keep her alive until my transport arrives and it can..."

Swearing as only a Corellian could as sirens became audible in the distance - now, they had to come now? - he decided that a more active hand was needed. Telekinetically grabbing a cloak from one of the fallen, he put it on, shrouding his face in shadows before igniting his crimson lightsaber and flinging it forward - smiling coldly as it severed a pair of selectivists in twain before returning to his hand.

Projecting his voice outwards so as to be heard over the din of battle and the zealots' cheering, he made his suitably slimy move. "In the name of the Emperor, surrender or die!" Even as he spoke, his hooded eyes never left Pray - he needed her alive, but not willing.

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

"In the name of the Emperor, surrender or die!"
​

The Sith's voice boomed through the battlefield turning heads at the duo's direction; if that's what he desired, then he certainly achieved it. A supportive roar echoed among the ranks of the Children of the New Order, or the philistines as he had described them earlier and to Roman it seemed the battle became far more ferocious.

He glued himself behind the Sith whose capabilities with the crimson blade and the Force offered him the most convenient cover in the whole area. Pulling the trigger as fast as cyborg, Roman's salvo took out anything in his aim while the Sith's force powers and blade prowess crushed and sliced, respectively, all that stood in their way. A pair straight from hell.

The appearance of the police force in the air, shooting indiscriminately at everything below, bred even more destruction. Missiles turned men into pieces, blaster fire tore holes open on armored and unarmored chests and before they knew it both the Sith and Roman were covered from head to toe in blood.

The massacre status quo would've remained had the sudden Force-enhanced screech of Pray St-Callais not broken too many ear drums to count and sent men flying in all directions; holding both of his hands over his ears in pain, Roman saw the reason of the banshee scream. The Bogusei boss man had crumbled down on his knees with a fatal gunshot right in his center mass. A perfect shot.

It was the perfect, and perhaps only, opportunity for the two hellraisers.

"Now!" he shoved at the Sith's back urgently pointing him at the direction of where Pray St-Callais lied on her knees with tears in her eyes. "Move, move, move!!"

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

To someone who much preferred spending the night in a club or reading a good book to violence, the carnage was somewhat distasteful - and very, very annoying. He had given them the opportunity to surrender, but noooo, they had to go and ruin the snazzy suit he wore with their blood.

To the unenlightened, he likely appeared as a vengeful Sith Warrior straight out of legend, but in reality he was leaning heavily on his shield talisman to catch blaster bolts and his force abilities to push people into his blade's path - truth be told, he really wasn't much of a swordsman.

Things only got more complicated when the girl used the Force as if in agony - from seeing some criminal scumbag or another die, no less.

Perhaps she herself was worth more than the Count's favour.

"How curious." Striding up to Pray - and neatly decapitating a selectivist on the way - he frowned slightly, momentarily confounded by the logistical issues of moving someone without a small army of Sithspawn at his beck and call. "Come along now, none of these degenerates matter, and something tells me this whole mess is only going to get..."

Spinning in his tracks, he came face to face with the blaster cannons of a police gunship... only for said gunship to be nigh-on vaporized by his starfighter, the ink-black sphere emerging from the night after unleashing an emerald beam of condensed destruction. "... worse."

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

She couldn't feel her arms, nor her legs, nor any part of her body for that matter. It all seemed like a hallucination. She wished she'd wake up already. Back to reality. Back on their bed on Halifax Avenue where she'd always wake up late enough that Rygan had already made caf for both of them but early enough that it was still warm. Good morning, a soft smile, a softer kiss and a cigarette as the rays of sun pierced the orange tint of residual tibanna. The chirping of artificial birds, the morning news and a lighthearted conversation before they got to the cause. To make the galaxy a better place, to fight for something that was worth. By any means. Supply the Selectivists in their war while make a nice living in the Outer Rim with a partner who understood her far more than anyone in her family did and who supported her fully.

"Rygan..."she sulked inaudibly at the lifeless body of her lover nearby.

"Come along now, none of these degenerates matter, and something tells me this whole mess is only going to get...worse"

"Wh-what?" Pray wasn't really comprehending anything that was happening until the police car hovering in the sky brought her to the gruesome pain of reality. "Wh-who the hell are you?" she asked the tall blue-eyed man, trying to manufacture back that hardened rebel veil but behind it lied only the truth: a broken and lost girl.

"Your ticket out of here." another man, this one with a deep voice, replied. She noticed the blood painted all over the two men's clothes and skin and instinctively coiled backwards. "Now get up. Get!" he forcefully pulled her up despite and her best attempts to resist were clearly futile. "These...things are ticket out of here, right?" he asked the taller man who were an unnaturally composed but very disappointed face.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Dismissing Pray's confused questions with but a wave of his hand, his reply was flat and concise, his attention primarily focused on the criminal scum still standing, now that she had been "secured", as it were. "Later."

Wincing slightly at his transport took out a police gunship - they were just doing their jobs - he signalled sharply with his left hand, the hull of the vessel sliding open to reveal a comfortable, if not necessarily spaced to house three people for long periods, interior.

"That it is. Hold tight!"

Even as he spoke, a personnel tractor beam would grab ahold of the pair, roughly pulling them towards the interior, with the Sith Knight firing off one last surge of lightning before he jumped to join them - hopefully managing to avoid crash headlong into them.

"Now, I am Adrian Vandiir, Knight of the Sith and Master of the Arcane, and this is... I don't actually know. Anyway, you're welcome."

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

How many times had I seen that face? Broken, shattered and lost. Seen it in Cayla, seen it in Suvorov, seen it in the mirror; all too many times. Seems like that's the certain fate of every rebel in this decadent age. Bound on a direct course to a catastrophic epiphany. Most he knew ended up in one final suicidal act out of desperation against the tyranny. Others, they adapted to the far less wholesome and much more hollow form of existence.

Pray didn't resist boarding the transport and Roman understood that completely. Just a matter of minutes ago her whole meaning to life had been disintegrated. For all her eccentric looks: tattoos all over her body up to her neck, revealing clothing and flamboyant hair style, Pray St-Callais had lost all of that rebel visage the moment Rygan was shot to bits.

"Roman Hayato." he added to Vandiir's introduction. Far less monikers than the Knight of the Sith and Master of Arcane. Silence followed which seemed to reign in for far too longer than expected so Roman decided to break the ice. He reached for his cigarette pack after holstering back his gun and lit a cigarette. Surely Adrian had plenty of cash for good vehicle wash after.

He offered the girl a cigarette, she reacted after a long delay and with slightly trembling fingers plucked out a cigarette and let the investigator light it up for her.

She was going home.

Unless the Sith murdered them for the laughs; but Vandiir, if anything, prove to be far far distant from the stereotypical Sith. Roman just hoped this was for the best.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Vessel humming ever so softly as the inbuilt inertial stabiliser compensated near-perfectly for the aggressive evasive manoeuvres the inbuilt pilot was engaged in, Adrian felt a spike of satisfaction, briefly interrupted by the twitching of an eyebrow at Hayato lighting a cigarette.

They were in the clear, most likely; while not a true stealth ship, he doubted the locals would be able to track them.

Waving his hand before a carefully hidden wall panel, it slid open to reveal several expensive-looking bottles. Picking a bottle of high-end Corellian whiskey, he picked out a crystalline glass for each of them - even Pray, because Force knew she needed it - levitating them in the air with casual ease as he poured and chatted at the same time. "Tell me, Mr. Hayato, how much did the old Count offer for his daughter's safe return?"

He hoped the girl would take the whiskey - getting her drunk would make taking a blood sample easier. Depending on her strength in the Force, she might very well be far too valuable to merely return to daddy dearest... but the investigator would, of course, be well-compensated either way. Adrian was a Sith, yes, but he was not uncivilised.

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

Roman took the offered glass of whiskey enthusiastically, almost snatching it from the charitable hands of Vandiir and drank the amber liquid bottoms up. It warmed him up immediately and he realized he hadn’t drunk actual whiskey ever before. All the cheap 30 credit bottles of Snirmoff could never amount to whatever the hell he just drank. Probably cost as much as his usual paycheck. Crazy how the galaxy worked.

Pray, on the other hand, took the glass trembling; the shakes were getting unto her. She sipped from the beverage and nearly dropped it on the ground because of her traumatic vibrations. She accommodated herself to the whiskey’s nerve soothing abilities and...drowned into it. Pray was no longer on the vessel, at least not mentally.

"Tell me, Mr. Hayato, how much did the old Count offer for his daughter's safe return?"

Roman scowled and paused pouring in another glass, carefully putting the intricate glasswork back in its place. He cleared his throat, then, coarsely, “I was hired to do a job. I did it. That's as far as it goes.” There was an itch for his holstered gun but he knew it to be foolish. Roman felt his breathing grow stiller and shorter in the tense silence that followed. And Pray? She had no idea what was going on.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Smiling softly as both his guests drank deeply, he chuckled, sipping from his own glass, relishing in the cultured tastes it brought with it. "Relax, Hayato, I'm not here to rob you - I hardly need to. I was merely curious, if you will."

Finishing his glass, he placed it back in its place, opening another wall panel and extracting what looked like a high-tech blood sampler. Nodding towards Pray and her glazed eyes, he smirked. "If I wanted to cheat you, I would simply have drugged you too. Or imposed my will upon you, unless you are trained to resist such techniques? No matter. She'll be fine, by the way - confused for a few minutes, then unaware that it ever happened."

Poking the sterile needle into her forearm, he drained a small amount of blood, the device promptly sealing the wound behind it as he pulled it out. The results would not be immediate, but they would be fast, for he would not settle for anything but the finest of equipment. "She is Force Sensitive, as I am sure you noticed, the question is how much."

Chuckling softly, his smirk only deepened. "From what I can tell, she doesn't want to go back to the old Count, for whatever reason - and I can't imagine she would want to join the Sith Order either, but do you really care so long as you're paid? Well paid, presumably."

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

He listened silently to the Sith as he talked and did not interrupt him from taking a blood sample from the girl who had fallen asleep. Roman believed Vandiir had not drugged her, call it intuition; the man was a cunning bastard, he’d give him that but he did carry himself with some set of principles. He could respect that.

“I do.” the investigator replied. “My job is to bring her to the count.” he paused and let silence linger as he considered his options given the situation. Roman gave a long hard look at Pray and felt...remorse?

“She isn’t fit for this life, Vandiir.” he finally said dryly. He meant both the life of a rebel and the life of a Sith. “What do you exactly want?” he asked directly.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Sticking to the agreement in the face of potentially greater gain? He could respect that in a man, though in this case it was mildly annoying.

Glancing over at the device - still analysing - he shrugged. "A man of your word, then? Good, good... though who's to say that she wants to return to the old man? If you were paid to rescue her, I dare say you might have been operating on false premises - she certainly did not seem a prisoner."

Chuckling softly, he placed her down in a seat he extended from another carefully hidden wall panel before leaning against one of the rounded walls. "As for me, why, I'm no monster. Anyone working with Selectivists are getting a black mark in my book, but she seems more lost than openly malicious. Either she'll be returned to daddy dearest and I'll have his gratitude or she'll be turned over to the Sith Order. Either way, I benefit..."

Smiling softly, he winked at Hayato. "... and you get paid."

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

Roman stared at the sleeping Pray beside him and pondered.

The situation was out of his control.

"We'll bring her together to the Count." he finally said after a minute's silence. A strained note was evident in his tone. "If you persuade him to take her away, so be it." the investigator gulped. A heavy ball of burden had formed in his throat. "You will pay the difference if the Count cuts my pay."

He needed another drink.

AMCO