Private Predators Don't Rush

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Throneworld

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Throneworld filled the viewport. It didn't sit in orbit so much as impose itself on it. A vast mass of steel, glass, and excess suspended over the curve of Coruscant below. Light crawled across its surface in layered gold and dark plating, reflective segments catching the sun in a way that felt intentional​

​

Ace watched it without reaction, eyes moving slowly across the structure: scale, movement, density. He said nothing as clearance came through. The station drew him in, scanners passing over the hull in quiet sweeps. The hangar opened around him, vast and active, and ships lined the perimeter. Crews moved in constant, steady patterns.​

​

The ramp lowered and Ace stepped down, his gaze moved without turning his head - analyzing security, entry points, movement lines. A small group waited at the edge of the platform.​

​

"Moonbound."​

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He gave a single nod. "Where."​

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They turned without ceremony, leading him deeper. The station changed in layers. Industrial gave way to refinement. Exposed framework disappeared behind polished surfaces. Space widened. Lighting softened. Decoration crept in, statues, materials, things that served no function beyond presence. Inefficient.​

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They passed a long stretch of transparisteel overlooking Coruscant below. The view was meant to posture, but Ace didn't slow.​

​

Mercy had been gone from the Core for some time now, and her return had been made a big deal within the Covenant. For obvious reasons. Which meant there was no better time than now to size up the prodigal "Empress". And gather some new intel.​

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The escort stopped at a set of reinforced doors. Ace's gaze settled on them briefly, noting the depth of the mechanisms beneath the surface. Then they opened, the space beyond opened wide, built for presence rather than function. Elevated levels, long sightlines, nothing immediately obstructing the center. Ace stepped through without hesitation and the doors sealed behind him.​

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He didn't move far. His gaze lifted, sweeping once, mapping the space without lingering. Whatever this was meant to be… it said enough on its own. He came to a stop, posture relaxed but grounded and waited.​

​

Mercy​

 

[Mercy]

Acier Moonbound

There was a Throne.

Because of course there was, otherwise the name 'Throneworld' would have been very silly.

And on said Throne sat a woman.

This would not be so eventful if not for the scale of both Throne and occupant. The Throne was large, carved and forged from the plunder of Tapani and Core spoils. Tapani gold, Coruscanti metals and everything in between. The size of said throne would be ridiculous if not for the fact that the woman in it seemed to almost dwarf it herself.

Lounging in it, lazily, scrolling on her datapad until Acier paused in the room and a few minutes after that.

Then Mercy looked up, eyes already filled with amber, studying her guest.

"I have heard of you." Then a pause. "And I suppose I saw you too, when young Varin Mortifer decided to measure himself against me." From memory Acier had been far less impressive. Not eager to show his strength, clutching his body like a wounded lamb (the fact that Arris Windrun had shot him didn't matter to Mercy), and incredibly quiet.

"Arris tells me you were a Jedi, now trying to make your home among us."

Eyes grew skeptical at that.

"She seems impressed with you. Should I also be impressed?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Throneworld

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Mercy was as towering as he remembered. Even seated. The scale of the thing was almost ridiculous, forged from enough wealth and plunder to build monuments elsewhere, yet somehow she still made it feel small. Varin Mortifer looked enormous beside most people. Beside her, he'd looked like a Jawa trying to posture at a rancor.

Ace stood where he had stopped earlier, posture loose, dark eyes fixed on her now that she'd finally looked up from the datapad. The wait hadn't bothered him, if anything, it was useful. More time to study the room, its sightlines, and its entrances. And more time to watch how Mercy occupied the space when she wasn't performing for anyone.

Then came the mention of Varin measuring himself against her. For a brief second, the memory surfaced clearly. Varin exploding in rage, the hammer connecting with Mercy's face hard enough to crater bone and send blood across the room. Ace remembered expecting that to be the end of it. Then there was the part that stayed with him afterward: watching her face knit itself back together like the damage had only inconvenienced her.

That had been the moment he realized he wasn't dealing with someone merely dangerous.

He met her amber stare evenly. "Was never a Jedi." Ace corrected calmly. "Arris just hears what she wants to hear."

Then came the question. Should she be impressed? Ace's gaze lowered briefly toward his own hand, thumb slowly rubbing against the side of his index finger in nonchalance before answering.

"Up to you."

His eyes lifted again, drifting once around the chamber itself. The throne. The gold. The deliberate excess layered over everything.

"Should I be impressed with all this?"

The question left him dryly, but there was intention behind it. That was the point of this. Ace hadn't come to Throneworld to posture, intimidate, or prove himself. He came to study Mercy properly. To poke at the edges and see what pushed back. To dissect the woman sitting at the center of all this excess and decide what exactly she was beneath the throne, the stories, and the spectacle surrounding her name.

Mercy​

 

[Mercy]

Acier Moonbound

Those eyes kept watching him as he answered one and then the other.

Did Mercy believe him? Not quite. Mercy didn't have any experience with Force Sense, Mentalism, or anything esoteric like that. But she grew up on Eshan, among the Echani, and had a keen sense of physical language. Back when they first met he smelled conflicted. It seemed to have dissipated now, but Mercy made judgements quickly and rarely went past them.

"Should I be impressed with all this?"

His own question came.

Just like him, Mercy didn't answer immediately, in fact the silence dragged. Tension rising. What did Acier really know about Mercy? Did he know how volatile she could be?

How easy it could be to set her off?

"No." The answer came as brusque as a mountain slide. "Not at all." She pulled her pipe out and soon enough Mercy was smoking. Dragging in toxic fumes and when they reached Acier? He'd feel his connection to the Force start to get clouded. She hadn't stopped smoking the force-killing herbs, had been since Coruscant.

"This isn't for you. It is for me, because it pleases me to be surrounded by stolen opulence."

One leg crossed the other as Mercy regarded him.

"What is it that you want, Moonbound? What do you think you will find in the Covenant?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Throneworld

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

The honesty in Mercy's answer registered immediately. There was no justification or attempt to frame the station as noble or necessary. Just blunt self-interest. Oddly enough, Ace respected that answer more than he respected most people in the Covenant.

His eyes remained on her as she drew from the pipe. Smoke curled outward through the throne room in slow layers and a second later he felt it - the subtle dulling around the edges of his connection to the Force. It wasn't severed or blocked entirely, just... muted. Which annoyed him.

Ace's gaze lingered on the smoke for a brief moment before settling back on Mercy. Whatever she was smoking was responsible for it. Fine. He'd learned how to read people long before he ever touched the Force anyway.

He exhaled lightly through his nose at her question. "This again?" The words left him dryly, not irritated so much as tired of hearing variations of the same thing.

"Between you and Arris, it's always the philosophical 'why are you here', 'what do you want'." He gave a small shrug afterward, casual and unbothered.
"Does it matter?" Ace asked evenly. "I'm here. I've been doing my part. Shouldn't that be all you care about?"

His tone never sharpened. If anything, the lack of emotion behind it made the answer feel more genuine. He wasn't trying to dodge the question so much as dismiss the importance of it entirely.

Then Ace stepped forward once. It wasn't aggressive or challenging., but it was confident. Confident enough in himself to close the distance slightly without hesitation.

His dark eyes stayed fixed on Mercy. "Why do you do what you do?" He asked, flipping it back to her. "From what I hear, you're a hedonist."

He let that settle between them, then added: "You just do what you want because you can, yeah?"

Mercy​

 

[Mercy]

Acier Moonbound

"Between you and Arris, it's always the philosophical 'why are you here', 'what do you want'." He gave a small shrug afterward, casual and unbothered.
"Does it matter?" Ace asked evenly. "I'm here. I've been doing my part. Shouldn't that be all you care about?"

"Why do you do what you do?" He asked, flipping it back to her. "From what I hear, you're a hedonist."

He let that settle between them, then added: "You just do what you want because you can, yeah?"

"Wrong." Mercy said between smoke bites, golden eyes watching Arris' apprentice with interest. "It is a piss-poor Lord that does what they do simply because they want to."

This went against everything that Acier had heard about Mercy, of course. And against everything she had done so far... at least surface-level. Massacring the Tapani Cluster. Bringing down the Galactic Empire and bringing ruin to the Core, civilization of the Galaxy itself. Her Graspborn were chaotic, her Legions were hungry.

And Mercy surrounded herself in wealth and opulence.

Then Ace stepped forward once. It wasn't aggressive or challenging., but it was confident. Confident enough in himself to close the distance slightly without hesitation.

It was when he stepped forward that he'd realize the extent of the smoke around Mercy.

The closer he got, the more the wall of it was choking off his connection to the Force. Imagine then how bad it would be right near her. That could be a benefit, she could not be sustaining a connection to the Force now, could she? Not when she was inhaling it directly while sitting in the epicenter of it with the smoke coming off of her pipe.

This could be the chance that Acier was waiting for.

Strike her down now. Why wait on Arris Windrun ? Bring down the queen and the entire Covenant might very well collapse in her absence. Without her strength holding it together and her charisma drawing in more followers by the breath.

"Are you piss-poor, Acier Moonbound? Mediocre? Just a drone slaughtering things in front of him, because those above him tell him so? Not asking once why they would do so?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Throneworld

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Mercy's answer forced a recalibration in Ace's head almost immediately. Interesting. Not because he agreed with her, but because she had just stepped outside the framework he'd initially placed her in. The greed, the violence, the indulgence, the spectacle of Throneworld itself - all of it had painted a very particular image from the outside looking in. Simple appetite. Simple ego.

But there was structure beneath it. Purpose. Or at the very least, Mercy believed there was. That made her more dangerous.

Ace watched her through the smoke curling around the throne while the dull pressure against his connection to the Force deepened another degree from the single step he'd taken closer.

He felt temptation. The thought rose the moment he realized just how compromised his connection to the Force had become around her. End it now. Right here. The throne. The smoke. No speeches. No drawn-out plan.

Then reason settled over the impulse almost immediately. Bad odds. His connection was being strained, Mercy was physically monstrous even without the Force involved, and this entire station was her territory. If he failed the opening strike, he doubted there would even be enough left of him afterward for the floor to clean up. So the thought passed.

Then came the question. Piss-poor. Mediocre. A drone. Ace didn't visibly react to the disrespect in her voice, but something in it scraped against the constant low burning anger already sitting beneath his skin. The same anger that had been there for months now, quiet and controlled behind his ribs.

His dark eyes stayed fixed on Mercy. "If I was a drone, I wouldn't be standing here asking questions." Ace answered evenly. "And if I was mediocre, Arris wouldn't bother wasting her time on me. Don't do that. I'm not Varin."

He breathed in, inhaling the smoke with it. His gaze drifting once toward the smoke hanging around her throne before returning to her again.

"But no, I don't kill because someone points me at a target and tells me to pull the trigger. Let's just say I'm good at a work-life balance."

Ace paused then, folding his arms. "You talk about purpose like it separates rulers from tools. Okay. What happens when your purpose is gone? What are you without the war, the conquest, the throne, all this?"

His eyes moved once around the chamber.

"Do you even know?"

Mercy ​

 

[Mercy]

Acier Moonbound

Ace paused then, folding his arms. "You talk about purpose like it separates rulers from tools. Okay. What happens when your purpose is gone? What are you without the war, the conquest, the throne, all this?"

His eyes moved once around the chamber.

"Do you even know?"

Mercy's eyes flashed a pure form of amber. It made her face look like a mountain wall and her eyes caverns with fire inside.

"There is always a war, Moonbound. Time is a fucking circle if you haven't noticed. The Sith fall, the Jedi rise, the Jedi overstep, the Sith come again and break their faces. Then the Sith grow soft and are cut out of the equation... and round and round we go."

She shrugged.

"All I am doing... is inserting a little bit of uncertainty into the Galaxy. A little bit of chaos to make things interesting."

That was not even a fraction of the story, of course, but Mercy wasn't going to give the game away. Acier would have to draw the connections himself if he cared enough to.

But there was a pattern there.

Every single step Mercy had made from the moment she declared the Kaggath against the old man and even before. Similarities, things that kept repeating, that all pointed towards a singular aim. The real question was if Acier cared. Did it really matter if some insane monster massacred whole civilizations for a purpose?

It didn't bring those people back.

What did it matter if there was a point to it all?

But the grin that escaped her expression underlined the choice he had been considering and failed to pursue.

"You know, I am always shocked at the lack of ambition of you kids." Mercy drawled as she took the pipe out of her mouth, elbows settling on knees as Mercy leaned in to watch him through the smoke. "Had I been given the chance to strike my old Master at the Academy, I would have taken it, every single time."

She licked her lips at those memories.

It was a shame that by the time Mercy had self-actualized enough to be a threat, her old Master was already dead and buried, the same as the old Sith Empire in the Tingel Arm.

"But then again, it's good to know your limits." Choosing to ignore the comment about Varin Mortifer . That boy had earned her respect, even if it had also earned him a set of broken ribs. "Not everyone is cut out for a Throne..." Mercy continued, with that shit-eating grin that exposed the contempt she felt for people like Acier, or at the very least seemingly showed it.

"I think Arris Windrun is going to dispose of you sooner rather than later. Your ambition is shackled by your caution and fear." She breathed in. "Even through this smoke I can practically taste it, lad."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Throneworld

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace realized that quickly now that there was an actual worldview sitting behind Mercy, ugly as parts of it were. And worse, it wasn't entirely wrong.

War never ended. The Sith rose. The Jedi crushed them. The Jedi grew arrogant. The Sith returned. Empires collapsed. New ones replaced them. Again and again and again. Different banners, different speeches, it was the same cycle underneath it all.

Ace had spent the better part of the last several months coming to terms with that himself.

"You're not wrong."

The admission came calm and without hesitation. Which was exactly why Mercy interested him now. Not because of the throne or the spectacle of Throneworld, but because there was enough truth mixed into her thinking to make the rest dangerous. He didn't buy the "making things interesting" explanation completely. There was something else underneath it. Something larger.

Part of him wondered if their goals overlapped somewhere deep beneath all the blood and wreckage. Maybe Mercy genuinely believed tearing systems apart would eventually force something stronger to emerge from the ruins. Or maybe she simply wanted to drag everything down and let somebody else choke on rebuilding it afterward.

Either way, there was intention there. Then came the comment about ambition and Ace's eyes remained on Mercy while his hand drifted down toward the hilt at his belt.

"Some are content." He unclipped the lightsaber casually, the metallic snap quiet against the throne room as the hilt settled into his hand. "Some don't care."

The weapon slowly rotated once between his fingers while the smoke curled through the space between them.

"Others?" His gaze stayed fixed on her. "There are other ways to gain power."

He didn't elaborate further than that. For a brief second the motion almost looked thoughtful, like he was genuinely entertaining the possibility she'd just placed in front of him.

Then Mercy mentioned Arris disposing of him. He didn't react, but then a dry, humorless scoff escaped through Ace's nose.

"You think I'm not preparing for any one of you fuckers to take me out?" He was still calm. "I'm not worried about Arris. I'm not worried about you either."

The lightsaber clicked back onto his belt. That wasn't bravado. Mercy could probably tear him apart right now if she wanted to. Both of them knew it, but fear and awareness weren't the same thing.

"You're mixing up fear with patience." Ace said. "Your day's coming, Mercy. It just won't be today."

He glanced aside briefly afterward, unbothered enough to let the statement settle naturally into the room between them.

"Just the way of the Sith, right?" He continued. "Bide your time. Gather strength. Take out the top dog when the opportunity finally shows itself."

His eyes returned to her again and a faint tilt of his head followed.

"It's what all the 'greats' did. You really arrogant enough to think no one's plotting on you, or making moves behind your back? Might wanna check with your right hand woman."

A faint, almost inhuman smirk followed: "Poor Vestra, huh?"

Mercy ​

 

[Mercy]

Acier Moonbound

Sulfur and amber slowly began to trickle into her eyes when Acier mentioned Vestra Tane .

But that was not the dangerous part.

That would be the slow smile creeping up, revealing sharp teeth, perfect for tearing flesh from bone.

"You really arrogant enough to think no one's plotting on you, or making moves behind your back? Might wanna check with your right hand woman."

"I'd be disappointed if darling Arris wasn't plotting against me in some fashion." Mercy purred softly as she leaned back against the throne again before giving a shrug.

"Bide your time. Gather strength. Take out the top dog when the opportunity finally shows itself."

His eyes returned to her again and a faint tilt of his head followed.

"It's what all the 'greats' did."

"When I went for the Throne I went for it loud. I announced my intention clear, violently. I declared a Kaggath against an old fool with an Empire behind him, while all I had were my fists and a cult growing around me." Mercy said full of self-satisfied, smug, arrogance. But even if it couldn't be forgiven, it could be understood.

Few others could make a claim like she had and have it be the bald truth.

Along with Arris Windrun and Vestra Tane she had done something everyone deemed impossible. They had carved a movement out of nothing and broke the spine of two ancient institutions within the span of months.

"Is that what you are doing?" She finally said with interest. "Biding your time? Growing your strength before you go for the Throne?"

A boring tactic, even if it could be strategically sound.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Throneworld

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace noted immediately that the attempt hadn't worked. The mention of Arris, Vestra, and the suggestion that someone within her own circle might be making moves behind her back. None of it created the crack he'd been looking for. If anything, Mercy seemed amused by the idea.

His expression remained unchanged, and his reply came dry without emphasis. "Glad you're on top of things."

Then he listened to Mercy's story about the Kaggath. About challenging the throne and declaring her intentions openly and throwing herself at an Empire with little more than conviction and a growing cult at her back.

It didn't sound nearly as different from what he'd said as Mercy seemed to believe. Power wasn't just soldiers and ships. It was influence, reputation, allies, fear, and followers. You gathered it, then you removed whoever stood above you.

"Congratulations." Ace said flatly. "You can be loud."

Mercy valued spectacle. Clearly. Directness and strength displayed openly. To an extent, so did he, but there was a difference between charging a throne when you had momentum behind you and charging a system that would crush you before you reached the first step. Being impressive didn't matter much if it got you killed before you accomplished anything.

Then Mercy turned the question back on him. If this was what he was doing. Biding his time and growing stronger, ready to take on the throne. For a moment Ace looked away from her, then his eyes drifted somewhere distant.

Then he looked back, calm and unreadable.

"It'd make sense, right?"

The answer hung there, neither confirmation or denial. Just enough truth to be interesting, and enough ambiguity to be dangerous.

Mercy​

 

[Mercy]

Acier Moonbound

And his response to the direct question was exactly why Acier would never fit proper in the worldview of Mercy.

To Arris Windrun Mercy had described Acier as a gun, but that had been to spare her friend's feelings. She knew exactly how much Arris cared about loyalty and having the backs of people she choose. It was exactly why her betrayal of Tilon had weighed so heavy on her. You wouldn't let it affect you so deeply without caring.

Or when she thought she had executed the Black Sun Infochant. That had been a whole ordeal too.

In truth Mercy viewed Acier not as a Lord, nor a gun. No, Acier was a bullet. A gun you could use multiple times and it would remain effective as long as you maintained it.

A tool that could be used for multiple things - yes, shooting it, but within that framework you could use it to threaten people, kill people, scare them or extract promises.

A bullet however only had one use.

It had to travel a direction line from point A to B, until it reached its destination with all the consequences that belonged to it. And once it was done, you discarded it and found yourself another bullet in the chamber.

"It'd make sense, right?"

"Oh, honey." Mercy finally said with a tone dripping in sympathy. "Let me help you, because clearly you need it." She snapped her fingers and the viewport (finally repaired after their favorite cyborg's tantrum a few months ago) opened itself up. Allowing a clear view of Coruscant, but more importantly of a sleek battlecruiser in orbit.

"I ordered a line of these ships made for those that carry our spirit. Boldness, ambition, hunger." Eyes stayed on Acier. "Arris assures me that you have all of that in spades."

Mercy didn't quite believe it, but she trusted Arris' judgement... to a certain extent.

"That one is yours. Use it in good health." A slow stretch there as she drew from her pipe again, inhaling more of the force-killing agent.

"But if I don't start to see some loud moves from you soon, I will be disappointed."

And a disappointed Mercy... could be a dangerous thing. Just ask the Emperor what had happened to his Empire when Mercy had been disappointed by his performance in the Kaggath.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Throneworld

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

A faint smirk tugged briefly at the corner of Ace's mouth. An enemy that underestimated you was an enemy that could still be surprised.

The snap of Mercy's fingers drew his attention toward the viewport as it opened. His eyes settled on the battlecruiser hanging in orbit beyond the transparisteel and Ace studied it in silence while Mercy spoke.

A gift. Or perhaps a test. Maybe both. Either way, the ship wasn't what held his attention. Mercy did. The longer this conversation continued, the more convinced Ace became that her greatest weakness wasn't a lack of strength or intelligence.

It was certainty. Certainty in herself. Mercy expected challengers, betrayal, and ambition. She simply believed she'd survive it, and she was crazy enough not to care if she didn't. When that day came, Ace intended to make sure there wasn't enough left of Mercy to regenerate from.

His arms folded loosely across his chest as he turned his head back toward her.

"You're generous." The words left him dryly, then his gaze returned briefly to the battlecruiser. "I'd say you probably won't live to regret this. But know that probably excites you."

Whether Mercy took it as a joke, a challenge, or something in between wasn't particularly important. Ace already had what he came for. Slowly he lowered his arms and looked back at her one final time.

"I've got other things to attend to." His expression remained calm. "This was nice. We should do it again."

The sarcasm beneath the words was subtle enough to miss if someone wasn't listening for it. Without waiting for a response, Ace turned toward the exit.

"Good luck out there."

Then he left, the doors closing behind him a short while later.

Mercy hadn't become less dangerous during their conversation. If anything, it was the opposite. She had become clearer. The throne, the philosophy, the ambition, the certainty. He understood her better now than he had when he'd stepped into Throneworld, and information had always been more valuable than bravado.

Every answer, reaction, and assumption she'd made was useful. Because with every piece of information he gathered, the path toward removing Mercy from the board became a little clearer.

And best of all? He'd walked away with something even more valuable. Mercy thought less of him.

Mercy​