Prison

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The cage was wet.

No matter where Alexander moved, the moldy dampness of the cell seemed to follow him. The corners were wretched and covered in mildew and other detritus. The walls were slick with condensation and shimmered in the faint orange light of the ceiling light. The floors were cast in a similar sheen, and the prisoner had to be careful not to let himself slip with each step.

He'd been in this cell for a week now. It was his reward for making an irresponsible move. He and a few other men had come to Felucia to free a number of their old comrades. The captive men had been taken in past battles with the One Sith; Alex, lacking any allegiance to any of the greater powers, had decided assisting the venture was a wise decision. He did not regret it.

The men were free now, save for himself. The other two he'd been captured with were dead now, their throats slit as the Sith Lord's leisure. Their dried vitae stained his clothing and clotted along his fingers. its coppery smell made his stomach turn, and the particularly morose conditions of his cell certainly did not help.

It was a dingy little hole in the wall in the basement of the warlord's quarters. He'd opted to keep Alexander alive for his personal enjoyment; the marks of which lay across Alex's arms and legs in deep bloody gashes that were bound in cloth torn from his undershirt. The former commander had decided not to look at the wounds. If they were infected, he didn't want to know: better to live without that dread.

Sighing, he ran a bloodied hand through his mess of short blond hair and kicked the steel door with the tip of his boot. The door was an archaic thing sealed with a lock and key, rather than the ray shields seen in most modern prisons. The distinct age of the cell and the sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh had a horrible effect on the mind. How long had Alex been here?

His breath hitched as the door leading to the chambers above creaked open. A massive figure in heavy robes strode down the steps. The hints of a monstrous smile twitched at the ends of a red mouth that Alex could just barely make out from the shadows of the cowl it wore. The teeth were needle sharp.

Mumbling a curse under his breath, Alex backed away from the door and folded his arms over his chest. He knew what would come next.

[member="Vaela Saboe"]

 

[Vaela Saboe]

Two months of careful planning had finally come together - it had been easy enough considering that Vaela's target was a Sith Lord. He was old in his years, sloppy, and still clinging to his self-importance, resulting in him retiring to his unnatural liking for blood, and even more so, torture. Sure, she could appreciate the slow death of somebody - more often than not her job called for such measures - so much so that she almost felt sorry that she had to end his fun. Credits were credits. And the large amount headed her way had her standing behind the old Sith, as he stood in front of a cell incarcerating one of his victims, reeking of death.

With one quick motion, Vaela sliced his throat open, and buried a blade in the back of his head for extra measure - he would not be able to heal himself with the force, if his brain was leaking from his skull. Vaela sighed as his body slunk to the floor in a bloody mess, all over her boots. No doubt the guard that he had assisting him in the torture chamber would come looking when his master didn't arrive. Vaela had to be quick.

Vaela kicked the dead Sith's body from her boots. She had been about to leave the stinking room, when the jangle of keys hitting the stone floor stopped her. She had forgotten about the torture victim, locked up in one of the cages. It was only a brief hesitation in which she questioned her morals - should she free him? But she decided that she didn't have any, and that she wasn't here to save people for free. Sure it would give her some points in kindness, but she wouldn't get paid for it. The man could not see Vaela's face behind her cowl, but she could see his. His features were hidden by blood and grime.

Nope. No time. No cares to give. He could probably squeeze his arm through the bars, and reach the keys if he tried hard enough. How hard would he fight for freedom? After all the torture, would he even want to live? She wondered such things as she began to swiftly walk down the dimly lit stone hallways to her exit.

Vaela was skilled at her job, after all it was all that she had in the Galaxy - why wouldn't she be good at it? Hiding from the Sith's force senses had been a natural talent of hers, one that had been exercised many times. A guard had been seduced on a weekly trip to town to 'unwind' with ladies of the night and a lot of liquor, and the old building had been scouted thoroughly. Prepared. Efficient. A few more turns down the moldy hallways, and she would be free, back into the forest, for a two day hike back to her 'borrowed' ship.

Scuffling ahead. Guards? Sounds like four. Why four? It should only be one, two at most, to check on their master. Though, there was someone else too, groaning, resisting. A new victim perhaps? Had she missed someone? No, impossible.

'I'm taking you to him,' snarled one of the guards. 'You'll become one of his little test subjects.'

'Yeah, that's what you get for stealing from your brothers!' Said another guard. They were angry. But through it, she recognized the voice of this one - it was the guard that she had seduced for intel.

They turned into the hallway where Vaela stood. She had already removed her cowl.

'Dee?' A fake name she used for herself.

'Tarlson!' Vaela added extra enthusiasm to her voice. She addressed the seduced guard who recognized her.

'What are you doing here Dee?' He asked, edging a little closer to where she stood. He was noticeably cautious. The other guards shared his tension, as they looked between the pair. She recognised the two who restrained the guard that they intended for torture, and a third she didn't recognise trailed behind, his rifle raised.

'I couldn't be without you,' Vaela said breathlessly, clutching her hands to her chest, over her cold, cold, heart. 'I followed you back last night, Tarly, I came here to tell you that I love you!'

'This is crazy, lady,' one of the guards exclaimed. 'You shouldn't be down here!'

'Yeah Dee,' agreed Tarly. He looked embarrassed. He raised his eyebrows. 'You remember who I said I work for?'

More footsteps, coming from behind the guards. 'What-' Another guard rounded the corner - no doubt the one that would be coming to check why his master hadn't returned. Tarlyson and the rest of the guards turned to the newcomer, and it was in this moment that Vaela chose to act.

With one hand she pulled a vibroblade from her boot, and swiftly moved to Tarlyson. 'Sorry babe,' she whispered as she drove the blade into his neck. He fell to floor. She yanked the blade out of his artery, and then flung it at the guard who had his rifle raised. Bullseye. Then, while the others scrambled in confusion, she dashed back the way she had came, searching for a new exit. She could hear the guards shouting, and a few moments later, their heavy feet began to chase after her.

All the commotion. The noise. Two guards appeared at the other end of the hallway, rifles ready, boxing her in at both ends. She watched as one bent down in the doorway of the cells, and saw the dead Sith, bleeding onto the stone floor. They looked her way, and began to charge. Vaela pulled her pistol from her belt, and considered her options, all of which resulted in a blood bath. The familiar feel of adrenaline coursed through her body, and she directed it to her reflexes and senses, heightening both in preparation for a fight. She could hear the others behind her. She felt alive. When she was killing, it was perhaps the only time that she did. The Sith Lord didn't seem so different to her now.

'Let's go boys,' she whispered under her breath.

 

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What?

The commander lifted himself up ever so slightly. He could just barely make out what was going on beyond the darkness of his cage, but he did recognize one figure. The Sith Lord lay in a heap at the foot of the cell, his vile vitae dripping down the stone floor. A key had fallen with him just within reached of the bars -- if Alexander was not chained to the back wall, that was.

Cursing, the soldier edged forward. The iron cuffs around his wrists cut faintly into his flesh and fresh blood dripped down the pale skin. He fought back the overwhelming desire to stop and continued forward. His hands would never reach the key like this, but perhaps...

Grunting, Alex lifted his foot through the bars. He felt about in the dark for a moment until he felt the cold steel of the keys. They were old archaic things, but they were reliable. That, along with the charm of using old steel must have been the reason why the Sith Lord still used them.

With a wry grin, Alex drew the key to him. He slipped it into the cuffs, and drew in a deep breath. They did not budge. Infuriated, the soldier poked at it from a different angle -- the keys made a satisfying clicking noise.

The cuffs fell from his hands and clattered to the floor. Freed, Alex rose to his feet and rubbed the ruined skin around his wrists. "Gonna have to get that checked," he grumbled, working the key through the key through the cage door. It creaked open.

Wasting no time, Alex crouched over his former captor's corpse and pulled the lightsaber free. Certainly not his choice of weapon, but it would have to do. Having memorized the path leading to the exit upon his internment, Alexander began to jog down toward salvation.

Then he heard the shots.

He saw a group of men crowded around a figure at the end of the hall. Upon closer inspection, Alex saw her to be a woman, and a stunning one at that. She must have been the Sith Lord's killer, though why he had no idea. A scorned lover perhaps? Alex decided he did not care as he crept up behind the offending men.

The lightsaber hissed as it came to life through the back of the closest guard. The second turned toward Alex in surprise, only to find the red blade piercing his own heart. The guards fell to the floor in a bloody heap.

The others had met a similar fate, and Alex found himself alone with a murderer. He cast the lightsaber aside and scooped up one of the guards' sidearms, flicking the safety.

"Get out of my way!" He snapped, the fury of a man who had stewed in his own hate for months bubbling up.

[member="Vaela Saboe"]

 

[Vaela Saboe]

Vaela began to run back on herself towards the guards that had been with Tarlson. She knew one would be armed, but the other two had no weapon since they had been carrying the unfortunate prisoner. Vaela aimed her pistol as they turned the corner of the hallway, shouting after her, rousing more guards no doubt. With a squeeze of the trigger, her blaster fired. Crimson shots singed into the chest of the first guard to turn the corner. He fell to the floor as the other two stumbled back, not expecting her to come back towards them. Vaela pounced on the second guard, pushing him back onto the stone floor. The blow to his head knocked him out cold. She had to be quick with the third if she were to escape the rest behind her. He was still in confused, his rifle not yet raised enough to get a clean shot on her. Vaela flung her body backwards and kicked her leg out, colliding her foot with his hand. She then used his weapon to kill him, firing several shots into his body.

Vaela heard footsteps behind her - the last two would be close enough to finish now. But as she stood to her feet and swung around, pistol raised, it was not the guards who greeted her. A bloody mess of a man was running at her instead. Behind him, she saw two bodies, dead on the stone floor, in several pieces. It took her only a few seconds to recognize the dirty man as the one in the cells.

Okay, okay. She thought to herself. The will to live is clearly strong with this guy.

He looked awful. Covered in blood, grime, clothes ripped, dirty, wet and sweaty.

'Get out of my way!' he bellowed as he ran past her.

He had to be going the way she was. Ugh.

Two might be better than one after all this racket - the other guards would no doubt be alerted to the hallways, searching for the source.

'After you, grimey,' she mocked under her breath. 'You can be my meat shield.'

 

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Had she said something?

Alexander didn't pay much mind to the woman. He needed to get out. The soldier spat a curse as he rubbed his bleeding wrists along his tunic and strode past the silver haired girl. Killer or not, he wasn't going to have much need of her. He was Dreadguard in all but name -- a few soldiers weren't going to keep him pinned in this hell hole.

"I'm leaving. I suggest you do the same." He grumbled, slipping a new blaster pack into the aft of the sidearm. That was his last, but it would have to do. He just needed to be sparse with his shots.

Alex ascended the stairwell leading up to the Sith Lord's chambers. He held the pistol level and scanned the surroundings. The room was empty of people. The quiet crackle of the fire drew him forward and its heat warmed his skin. Alex snatched one of the many cloaks draped across the Sith Lord's bed and tied it around his wounded wrists.

"Should stop the bleeding," he mumbled, his attentions shooting upward as he heard footsteps outside the door. Someone was coming.

[member="Vaela Saboe"]

 

[Vaela Saboe]

Vaela followed a few feet behind the man. He clearly knew his way around the ancient building, as he had entered the Sith Lord's chambers with purpose. It just so happened to be Vaela's point of exit: out his window, into a towering oak tree, a short dart across the branches of several other trees, and then into the forest. She entered the chamber after the grimy man. It was a dark room, smelling of death - much like the rest of the building.

Vaela glanced at the man wrapping his bloody wrists with torn cloths from the Sith's bed. He was covered in wet blood. And needed a bath. Vaela wrinkled her nose and slid to the window. She sensed a change in the atmosphere - the man grew tense, and then she heard what he had - footsteps in the hallway off of the chamber. More guards.

She was already half way out the window, and she could have escaped easily without the guards knowing that she had been in the chamber. Then they would have blamed the grimy man for 'murdering' the Sith Lord, probably killed him on the spot, and she would be on her way to her ship, and off into the Galaxy, collecting her credits. Something made her hesitate though. Perhaps it was the determination and strength that she had seen in the grimy man's eyes as he had passed her in the hallway. Or perhaps she just wanted to kill some more. Or to show off that she was stronger than most men - good at her job. Either way, she found herself slipping down from the windowsill, back into the chamber.

Three guards burst in, rifles raised to shoot. But Vaela was faster. She ducked down to her boot, pulling her last blade from the hidden sheath, and flung it towards the closest guard. It landed in the center of his chest. While he was gurgling blood and slinking to the floor, Vaela snatched up a floor length candle holder to the left of her. She was quick - in no time she had hit a rifle from another guards hand, and smacked him over the head with the candle stick. The remaining guard fell to the floor shortly after.

'These guys are poor excuses for guards, huh?' she said, almost cheerily as she pulled out the blade from the guard's chest. She wiped the blood on the Sith's bed cloths before sliding it next to her pistol hanging from her belt.

As Vaela reached the window, shouting erupted from down the hallway.

'In the bedroom! This way!'

And then a scurry of several pairs of boots on the stone floor.

It sounded like more than five, and Vaela had no desire to take all of them on. She crouched in the window, glancing back at the grimy man. If he wanted to stay and die then that was his choice. Vaela had credits to collect. This man would probably die anyhow - the forest was teeming with death traps, and he was already wounded. The blood would probably alert all predators in a one mile radius. Perhaps it was better he died here and didn't try to follow Vaela.

Without hesitation this time, she leapt onto the branch of the oak and into the night.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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Alexander had always been a warrior.

When he was naught but a small child, his mother had told him stories of his grandfather's glories. He'd been a Mandalorian, a savage people that fought for what they wanted and did not spare a thought for the carnage they left in their wake. His mother had walked away from that path, not wishing to be a part of such a violent culture. His father had been a regular man working hard every day to feed his wife and young son. But Alexander, he was a warrior. His grandfather's blood flowed through his veins like hot magma. He was a spitfire, always seeking conflict and often causing it when he couldn't find it.

In the Republic military, he had fought. With tooth and nail he had struggled with his brothers and sisters against the One Sith. Then he'd died on Naboo, until those damned droids pulled him from the brink. They ripped him apart and put him back together all in one particularly rainy evening.

When he'd rose again, he was a warrior. He killed dozens of Sith Lords and a hundred score of their sycophants for the Galactic Alliance. All to save his mother and sister -- all for nothing.

Now he was here, with nothing but a bloodstained shirt and an empty blaster. Those, and the white-haired woman. He watched her brutality with a curious eye. He moved to step in, but it seemed like the girl had it under control. His hands balled into fists at his sides; a string of quiet curses spilled from his lips.

More were coming.

"This isn't my grave," Alexander spat as he followed the woman out the window. He came down with much less grace, pitching a roll throug the mud and opening one of his scabbed up wounds. The blood poured freely from the bloody canyon in his shoulder, but he paid it no mind. Freedom lay ahead.

The soldier broke into a dead sprint through the forest. He didn't pay much mind to whether or not the woman followed -- truthfully he didn't care. He pumped his arms and forced branches and bushes away as he charged through the forest. The light of a waning moon served as his only beacon, but the darkness was welcoming. It wasn't his cell.

After he'd cleared a significant distance from the estate he came to a stop. Calloused fingers reached for a nearby tree and all his weight was set upon it. His chest rose and fell violently with each breath. Unaware as to whether she had followed, but wishing to use his voice all the same, Alex spoke, "They're coming." He drew in a deep breath. "You should get to your ship and leave. They won't catch me again."

He reached down to finger the hilt of the combat knife he'd pilfered from a guardsman's corpse. "I won't let them."

[member="Vaela Saboe"]

 

[Vaela Saboe]

Vaela flipped down from the branches that she had been running across - the next part of her journey would be made on foot. She had hidden a pack in the trees around not far from her position that would sustain her for the next few days - ever prepared.

Her boots hit the muddy ground, and she straightened.

"They're coming." she heard the former prisoner's voice some distance behind her. "You should get to your ship and leave. They won't catch me again."

Ugh. She rolled her eyes. Typical male, always bossing the women around like he was better than them. Vaela moved closer, anger bubbling to the surface of her emotions.

'You should get to your ship. Or a medical center, look at you,' she scoffed. 'You won't last one day out here. Not only are the guards coming for you, or me rather, but your gushing wounds have probably alerted half the beasts that roam these forests.'

She shook her head in annoyance.

'You should head that way,' she gestured to the east. 'Away from me. To the town. Where you can sort out your...Ugh, get over here.'

Vaela grabbed the man's torn shirt and pulled him into the bushes. 'Be quiet,' she whispered.

Sure enough, the sound of guards shouting came closer until the squelching of boots on the mud were right beside their hiding place. It sounded like a lot more than Vaela would have been prepared to fight and walk away from. She bit her tongue as she avoided taking her anger out on the prisoner - she would have been long gone by now if she hadn't stayed behind to 'help' him.

'Looks like we're both going east,' Vaela cursed, emerging from the bushes. The guards had gone north, the way that she had intended to go, and would still be going had she stayed in ahead of them. She had no choice but detour.

 

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He longed to hold a proper weapon in his hands. As things were, the combat knife would have to do. He would not be going back to prison again -- not here, at the least of things. He tested the tip of his blade on his upper arm just above the elbow. It split the skin and a tiny dribble of blood spilled out with ease. Alex found himself smiling with grimly -- the blade would cut through the armor of his would-be captors with ease.

He had every intention of turning and heading toward the town as the blond had indicated, until she pulled him into the bushes. A mass of guards soon emerged from the nearby shrubbery, far too many to deal with.

"They're after me, not you," he grumbled, "You should have left."

Too late now.

Even in his frenzied state, Alex remembered his manners. "Thanks for the save," he sighed, turning to look into the forest where the guards had gone. They couldn't have been far now.

"Seems like east is the only way to go right now. I don't have a ship. I've been in that cell for months now -- comrades probably think I'm dead." He shook his head, "No point looking for it."

He slammed his knife back into its sheathe and tore at the ruined cloth of his shirts. The shirt tore with ease, and Alex hastily wrapped it around the most grievous of his wounds along his lower arm. The fabric quickly darkened with blood.

With a grunt, Alex set toward the indicated direction, knowing the woman was likely going to take the lead.

"Alexander Ontonas," he sighed, gesturing toward himself.

[member="Vaela Saboe"]