Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Recognition for a Job Well Done

"Are you sure its safe for you to go into this alone?" asked Prometheus, the worry not hidden in his tone. "Your still barely on the mend and we can hardly choose to be close to losing you this time, sir. Your last close call was pretty close. Even for you."

Ardgal finished buttoning the dress shirt over his muscular form and offered a wry smile, "I am pretty sure I will be fine, Captain, you've done exceedingly well in taking good care of me. I am proud of you, each and every one of you."

"Thank you, sir, but you are not invincible," the man persisted "If you learned anything from Hapes, it should be that you can be broken, you can die, you can be taken from us. Hells, even Virgil is still recovering. Virgil."

Ardgal paused, looking at the jacket in his locker, his eyes lowered in thought. He had never been brought that close to death before, he had always thought of himself as unbeatable, unbreakable, and invincible. Project Madman had worked hard to bring him to that point--or almost anyway.

"You are right," he said at last, softer, "I don't have much time. I am just another life form," he pulled the jacket over his shoulders, turning and giving his worried, uniformed vod a warm grin, "I am just 276.58% times harder to kill than the rest of you."

"Just let us give you a minor escort, to tail you, you would never know we were there."

"No. Some things a man must do alone."

His Corvette lurched out of space, giving everyone a rough pull. They had to get a new ship, they had to, before it fell apart on them entering some system and left them all in disintegrated bits. The only weapon the warrior brought with him was one of his phirk pistols, ornate enough to pass off as a status symbol but powerful enough to knock sense into anyone stupid enough to try anything. It vanished all but flawlessly tucked under the inner coat of his suit.

Ardgal's shuttle carried him down to the surface of Chandrila. He had asked [member="Rashae"] here, but he had been rather intentionally cryptic and somewhat misdirective in reasoning. What did he need to lure a doctor out of her hiding to thank her? He proposed a check up on him to see how his recovery was coming along since his surgeries, and to meet at a small cafe named Rolodo's on a corner in Hanna City. It was a valid enough rally point in this massive galaxy and he had offered to more than pay for her expense to fly this far out and pay for the check up itself.

What was his real intentions? To give her a thank you the doctor would hardly forget. He took a seat outside at one of the tables of Rolodo's overlooking the beautiful street with the scenic view, folding his hands on the table as his analysis chip began to passively take everything in around him.

“He what?” Rashae questioned the request. In the subsequent days it was challenged and bribery was thrown in to sweeten the pot. All he had to do was come to alderaan to the Padme. A check up on a patient was all well and fine but she was a rather busy woman. How he caught her in between trips and knew where she was boggled her mind a little.

Well maybe it shouldnt. It wasnt like she hid or anything but her team did filter a great deal to ensure her messages were legitimate. This filtering and scrutiny was by some measures over kill, but she was not going to be caught unaware in case her past came up. It was only a matter of time.

The doctor owned four of those medical corvettes and was upon the one that didnt have to go in for repairs. After Hapes, everything needed maintenance, including the Padme. After some concessions they arrived on Chantilla. It was a lovely planet and had some nice shops. The doctor had to have an escort considering who she was now. It was non-negotiable but that meant she had extra arms to carry her scrubs, medkit and shopping bags. The woman dressed in her mind casually but nicely. She was not going to schlep down the streets of Chantilla. She would do so with style and grace.

The woman did secure a location at the hospital on Chantilla for the exam, but Ardgal wanted to meet elsewhere. It wasn't like it was an emergency so it was not difficult to get the woman to agree. She walked in front of four escort soldiers as what small crowd there was on the street parted ways. Even if she didn't have the escort, one would have to be blind not to spot the beauty walking down the way towards the cafe.

The walk was distinctly feminine as she smiled politely to Ardgal as they came up. There was one nod to her escort who fanned out. They were typical soldiers. Nothing special and their technique was text book if a bit too obvious or clunky. They would not let her have a blaster anymore as well she shot too many of them already by accident. It was just decided that the Doctor was best to have extra escort instead of being armed herself. It was not something Rashae dwelled on so long as they didn't get in her way.

One hip cocked softly his way as she looked down at the rather dashing Ardgal. Rashae's usually pinned up hair was fully down to fall to her waist and flow softly around her face. The woman looked around as details was noted in her own analytical way. The detail oriented woman may not have an analytics chip, but she may rival them. Her form of logic was incomprehensible to most. Those in the most category would think her illogical or incapable of it. These same individuals could not answer of how someone so illogical could come up with answers to problems medically and scientifically. The woman was an enigma.

“I am going to state the obvious here. I take it this isn't a check up?” There was a sculpted eyebrow raised as she looked the mysterious half man half machine right directly in the eyes with those startling light ice blues.

The view was rather breathtaking looking out over the silver sea. Her hand flicked to the side as she took a seat. Her escort took up some kind of guard like positions of some kind. Hell if she knew what sort that was. The woman would sit down with aid either by Ardgal if he was the gentlemanly sort or by one of her escorts before said escort would pick a post to guard from. There were eyes on her by everyone around them. Those long sculpted legs crossed at the ankle and off to the side of the chair most delicately. Those ice blues were still looking at him in the eyes undetered and unfettered as to the warrior's reputation. The doctor was aware of the rumors regarding him. She got an ear full after the surgery that put him more or less back together. They still had to adjust cybernetics which prolonged his stay on the Padme but after that, his crew came and gathered him up. That was not without a long list of orders form herself for both Virgil and Ardgal. Did she expect either of them to follow her orders. Frak no. They were warriors.

The woman pulled a datapad out. “You have any headaches?” She asked artfully. What Rashae is wearing.

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]
He saw her coming and judging by the guards around her, he guessed she had others with her that had the same view his troops had. Honestly though, she could not have been with anyone safer. And if Ardgal had wanted to try anything, they had less than a 5.79% chance of stopping him and a 2.4% chance of surviving anything like that. But he understood, there were always other beings out there who had enemies. He rose as she grew closer and offered a wry smile at her first question, moving towards the other chair, "Very astute, Doctor. Please, have a seat."

After helping her into her chair, the general sat back down, ram-rod posture, like he was sitting, waiting to be deployed out of the back of another dropship instead of in a quaint cafe by a gorgeous oceanside. He folded his hands on the table in an efficient but lose ball. "It was the most assured way to get you out here, I hope you will forgive my dishonesty."

He gave a tight lipped smile at her question. It was well played, tilting his head to the side. Cleaver. Very cleaver. And cheeky. The waitress droid came to the table, it was one of those semi-sassy tart one that still brought a home-town feel to the place. The general ordered a caf Anoat style. When they were done ordering it whirled away.

"Headaches? Only when I have to deal with bills and paperwork," he quipped back, for a brief moment there was a human sparkle of humor in his dark brown eyes. Then it slowly, slowly faded, "You saw my brain, Doctor, its a mess of metal with tissue--some mine, some not--fitted around. The pain is constant, in my head and everywhere else." he waved it away with a slightly awkward chuckle. He was still getting used to these social graces and the like once more. He quickly recovered with soft humor laced in his next words, "I hope it wasn't too easy putting me back together? Those of us in Clan Raxis do have a reputation to keep after all."

He was an erect sort of person but the doctor couldn’t blame him there. The woman did wish he wasn’t so poised to strike as if at a moment’s notice he would move. Those delicate ears listened to his explanation of the deception and then she ordered a cappuccino and hazelnut biscotti dipped in dark chocolate. The bitterness of true cappuccino and biscotti went together like nerf steak and mushroom sauce. A slight smile was issued at Ardgal’s response to her initial question and the Alor’s explanation for the deception.

“I am used to being lied to and deceived General. “ She said in soft aplomb. It was perhaps a silent way of eluding that it was a small part of why she was the way she was now.

The woman sat in a relaxed fashion once her order came. She took the few minutes it took to get that initial first sip which was the best part. That first sip was the teller of how good a café was at making true cappuccinos. Her eyes closed a moment to saver the rich flavor of the drink that told her that it came from freshly roasted, freshly ground beans. The woman had very exquisitely defined sense of taste

Their conversation progressed as his quip and additional statements sparked memories of his surgeries. Those icy blue eyes looked right into his browns in a most direct way. She took another sip as those lips wrapped around the white edge of the coffee cup ever so delicately to acquire that sip. Rashae gauged her response most carefully, weighing the General and considering options all at the same time.

“If you call Me, two medical droids, a cybernetics expert and a neurosurgeon easy then we have differing definitions of easy. Your surgeries took four hours to get you stable. Reason it was only four hours is that I am fairly well versed in genetics. Your and yoru cousin's genetic modifications and fusions are… interesting. “ Her brow furrowed as she had been mulling over their methodology. “The reason you feel pain is the way the genetics were handled. I am left wondering why though a few theories are possible. “

Her fingers toyed with one of the biscotti on the tasteful white and silver plate. ‘Fairly well’ versed was an understatement. “The connection points of the cybernetics to your cranial tissues are also subject to scrutiny in my opinion. There are much better methods and connection points between the harness and nerve points. “ She took a breath in and then out. “I digress.”

There was a polite smile. “this is a lovely view. I had forgotten the shopping here was phenomenal. I shall have to indulge this evening. “ She said in a softer voice as she relaxed.


She was always easy to tail. They want her to remember that they havnt forgotten. They want what is theirs. Agent 42 ever so slightly peeked down the cubby hole he had secreted himself into. The little dove has done well for herself. Not a wiff of the formula which was curious. Why hasn’t she sold it yet? The barely audible whirling of mechanics as her vision adjusted to whom she was sitting with.

The Agent quickly retreated his sighted once seeing Ardgal Raxis. He had quite the reputation. Was he her buyer? Finally. The cloaking device activated, the agent moved in closer to plant an amplifier so he could hear the conversation. This was a simple operation as he hung from the ceiling and ever so gently planted the device within the many crevices of the stonework around the café. Then quietly and slowly went back up the wall to the hidey hole up above. The oafs of soldiers the girl had he could have killed in seconds, but Ardgal was another matter. The amplifier soon had their conversation in his ears. He heard the last bit about shopping which was typical for this woman. No one steals from the Galactic coop.
His Anoat style caf was something most humans didn't prefer. It was very bitter, highly acidic, and just a little on the burnt side. But, the Vong in him loved it, and it was fairly pure, almost impossible to poison or drug, and familiar. He took a brief drink from the cup before brandishing a slight smirk of pride, "That few? I suppose I'll have to try harder next time."

As he listened to her talk about his altered genetic code, the humor all but erased once more from his face. The warrior knew he could only keep his secrets as such for so long, especially from someone that skilled. He leaned slightly on the table, pursing his lips together in serious mental consternation for a moment. On one side he reasoned that the less she knew the better, to leave her with more questions than answers for her own sake. The other side warred that full disclosure, especially with a medical professional of her caliber was in order. She would piece the puzzle together one way or the other.

"I was a part of a program," he said with a hint of vagueness. His dark eyes looked back into Rashae's with an odd combination of human discipline, robotic alacrity, and a soldier's heartlessness. "Some of the Galaxy's greatest minds in biology, genetics, cybernetics, and warfare were gathered from various parts. Yuyzhan Vong, Mrysst, Akardian, Geonosian, Muun, and on and on. Bright minds from bright races, all combined for one effort.

"Thirteen of us across the galaxy were selected for their experimental operations, the thirteen most viable candidates who could survive," he paused, his eyes dropped to the cup in his hands for a moment. His ears perked at the gentlest of sounds he could hear. Distinct sounds of micro servos and the slight sound of metal moving on metal. To anyone else who hadn't had their ear canals reworked and replaced with top-of-the-line mechanical alterations, it would have been unnoticeable. But there was a 65.1% chance that there was something going on that was against their efforts and he was not about to let that happen. It didn't matter who they were here for, him or her, that was beside the point.

"Anyway," he said with a sigh, looking up from his drink, "Shopping? Perhaps you would like to see the Hanna Institute first? If I recall, they have one of the only in-tact displays pre-dating the Gulag Plague."

He rose to help the doctor to her feet, his ears still keen for the sounds of any approaching ner-do-wells.
Rashae delicately dipped her biscotti into the cappuccino as she listened to him. The change from humor to incredibly serious was palpable and intriguing. Those icy blues looked upon him with more focus. Her brow furrowed even deeper as he spoke and then her eyes widened. No, it can't be that program. It couldn’t be. She bit her lower lip as she looked off to the right to mull it over, calculate, think, process. This was all highly visible on her face as several thoughts and lines of thought were processed at the same time.

She still had this expression as she nodded to his invitation to go to the Hanna Institute. Her lips were delicately dabbed before she placed her delicate hand into his hand to rise up. Her lips were touched up briefly before they started walking. She asked in a quiet voice as her guard filed in behind them. “How long ago was this Ardgal?”

There was no consternation or confusion. There wasn’t even a single question about details of the program. The question was asked very specifically and seriously. Once he answered the question she nodded once as they continued to walk away.

“Interesting. “ She stopped their column suddenly as she turned to look him up into those deep brown eyes. “I was the replacement bright mind for the one who left the Galactic Coop for that program, Ardgal. “ She didn’t say much more than that as she continued to walk towards their transport to the Institute if it wasn’t close by. No way she was ruining her shoes walking too far.


Agent 42 heard the conversation. There was standing orders for situations like this. The agent started trailing them both after he acquired his listening amplifier. The Institute was usually delightfully unpopulated. Lots of nooks and crannies. Every once in a while there might be an odd out of place noise that couldn’t be detected normally.

It was unfortunate as this little mouse had provided him with any sort of entertainment. She knew too much. They should have wiped her memory in his opinion but her family was too public. His only obstacle was Ardgal himself.

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]
He placed a few unmarked Credit chips on the table for their bill. They were untracable, legal, and that made them his favorite form of legal tender in the galaxy. The fewer footprints he made in this galaxy, the better. And that, as well, was pat of his training/conditioning that refused to die. As they walked down towards her transport his eyes moved across the streets, looking for any signs of anything that could be even the slightest out of place. It was habit, and it was paranoia. He didn't like the sounds he had heard and the idea of them being followed or listened in on didn't bode well with him.

He took a sharp breath in at her question, hesitating before answering, "Project: Madman took place for years ago. It is still under investigation by some of my best intelligence experts and the evidence is hard coming."

He nodded at her mention of her being used as a replacement for that program. It struck him hard, almost dumb to think that the people who sent him through worse than death and stripped away both soul and humanity had a life outside of that hell of a space station. It made his muscles tense, visibly, the thought of them having any life after what they had done.

Cortisol levels high. Initiating Dopamine release.

His body relaxed and he gave a slight smile as they came to the transport, "Do you mind if I drive? I thought it would be nice to show you the scenic side of this city."

He took the speeder through a longer, and adamantly more scenic route through the town by gorgeous vistas of the surrounding pastoral lands, the beach side resorts, gorgeous shops, and a few public landmarks of art. The other side of taking the long route, wasn't just the beauty, but the sheer fact that it circumnavigated possible ambushes. That paranoia died hard.

When they arrived at the Hanna Institute he stepped out to help Rashae to her feet.

"Some of the most beautiful art and science lies within," he said before tilting his head in a slight, humored way, "Or, at least, so they say."
When he said project Madman she nodded. The woman was trying to be discreet but there didn’t seem to be any prying eyes. He looked tense for some reason, but then it seemed both of their situations were tense during that period.

“A few pieces are coming together. No wonder they pushed me so hard. “ She said in a low quiet voice.

Once they arrived at her transport, it was easy to let Ardgal drive. She couldn’t drive. Her guards climbed into the back as the dashing general helped the young lady into the transport. The drive was very nice as she enjoyed the view and spoke of small things. It was nice. By the time they arrived at the Institute, she was rather relaxed and enjoying the prospect of wondering a museum. She had a discerning taste in art.

“I think the last time I was here was when I was very small. It will be a definite treat to see what is inside. “ She said as she gave him a rare softer smile before affixing the more stoic serious expressions. Her heels made the staccato steady tap on the polished floor. The guards fanned out and took positions.

“Ahh they still have this piece!” She said as a particularly large painting with a breath taking expressionist view of the Alderaan mountains.


He cussed as they started moving. He caught most of what was said and it meant that his little dove had to be eliminated. The company took a dim view of projects speaking to each other. Especially by competitors. He tailed them at a distance quietly parking on the other side of the building. He started climbing as he turned the cloaking device on. The man had to be careful of Raxis. Rashae he could take. Raxis was another matter. He preferred some range for that job.

Agent 42 brought up the images of the schematics of the institute which took him a few minutes and had to come out of cloak in his little hidey spot in the ventilation system. He needed a good sniper spot. The agent didn’t risk communications with his superiors at this time. Radio silence, especially with Raxis on the system.

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]
Ardgal had never been to this Institute, he had never really had the chance, even when he was more refined before the Project. But he still had glimmers of that locked away, deep deep down inside buried under all of the conditioning and rubble of the past.

"It sounds like a treat for us both," he said as he opened the glass door to the wide open veranda.

The building itself was a place of modern architectural beauty with wide open spaces, white floors, white walls, simple and elegant design to complement the art and science inside by combining both. As Ardgal looked through the place with a passive eye, he was struck by just how unsafe it felt. There were too many variables. Too many wide, open places that if someone got there--could turn this pace into a killing ground. He hated it, but at least the place was mostly empty, and that meant fewer chances of ambush.

The general folded his arms behind his back as he looked the gorgeous painting before them. His eyes glided across the painting and he felt something stirring inside him he hadn't felt for a very very long time. For a brief moment memories long forgotten rustled to the surface from their burial deep in his psyche. His shoulders relaxed and the general's stance shifted ever so slightly from control and command to more poise and sophistication.

"Antrio van Motzveen was one of the most beautiful of our time," he agreed with Rashae, "It is a shame, her glitterstim addiction truly robbed the galaxy of a gorgeous artist. I would agree she was one of the top ten of our galaxy, possibly our time," he paused, drinking the art in, "I've never seen the Deleur Mountains depicted so passionately. Are they this captivating in person?"
“hmmm quite astute. It was rather tragic. They say she painted this in a moment of clarity. Some stories say she used other types of spice drugs to induce these visions for her art. “ She shrugged. “Medically the claims were unsubstantiated and inconclusive.” There was a chuckle from her as she shook her head. “There are several circles in the science and medical community who argue over this even today still. Some are still trying to clearly map the artistic parts of the brain per species.

She held up her hand as artistic ability and the ability to process such abstracts to throw them into a visual respresentation had some kind of function. “perhaps it doesnt need so much a mapping but understanding the process the mind uses those areas. Genetically there is several anomalies to artists in difference to those that function purely on logic. The funny thing is those same anomalies show up in programmers, strategists and other supposed logic oriented types.” Rashae had her ice blues look into the deep browns of Ardgal when she said that. There in she had a mysterious smile before looking back on the painting.

“yes, they are better than gorgeous. There are some nice cabins up in those mountains for quiet retreats. “ She said in an offhand way. “if you don't mind getting away from technology, its a nice breather. There is a particular orchid that grows in the foggy, misty cliff sides. One of that species is in my Orchid collection.“

Ardgal was easy to talk to though she was still wary. It was nice to walk and discuss culture, art, work even in a noncommittal way. Nothing was owed or expected. At least she thought so. It seemed he wasnt after anything but he still was nervous. It actually was making her a little anxious. The raven haired doctor started looking around. It wasn't that she was a warrior but even she had instincts. Maybe the mandalorians were rubbing off on her.


Agent 42 had recloaked and was aiming his sniper rifle out of a ventilation shaft. Once the aim was clear and his shots calculated, he decloaked and in seconds the shots quietly exited. His sniper rifle could not be heard unless you was right on top of it to the naked human ear. First shot was made silently as two of the guards started crumpling. As Rashae turned, he took the shot as the woman turned full frontal as he wanted her to. She was smart but far too easy to lead.
Ardgal smiled back at her with a half smirk.

Warning: 65% chance of impending attack.

"I suppose genetic anomalies are what make the greats of society stand out from everything else." he said ignoring the warning coming from the back of his mind. He could feel the cusp of humanity. Humanity. Something he had not felt in so very very long. "Its that special something that makes some people greater than others."

Warning: Threat level has increased to 75%. Take action.

He pursed his lips, drowning out the electronic warning in his mind as he listened to Rashae talk about her Orchid collection. He would have to be sure to use that later. Sooner than later, if he had any--


The world began to move around the warrior in slow motion. He saw the bullet hiss through the air, tearing holes in the heads of both guards. He saw their blood slowly spray into the air, the exit wounds sending a rain of gore onto the perfectly polished white decor and surrounding paintings. Argdal's left hand moved to his undercoat, gripping the Rancor Ivory handle of his pistol. The shinning phrik weapon came out, brandished into the gleaming florescent light as both of his hands gripped it.

His head turned from side to side, picking up trace particles, reverberate echoes of infinitely small sound, ripple patterns in the air waves, and triangulating the shot all in a matter of nano seconds. It was amazing what the augmented mind could do when pressed to the limits. He saw it.

The barrel was aimed, not at him but at Rashae. There wasn't even enough time for him to feel harrowed and empty about it. He could see the finger tensing on the trigger already. He had two options: Shoot or Protect, he didn't have time for both. He turned wrapping Rashae's body in his own, both of his tree-sized arms gripping her as he pushed her down with all his weight into a tackle.

Warning: Damage along the right T3 Vertebrae, just under the ribcage. Damage assessment: Minor. Time till critical level of blood loss is reached: 30 minutes and counting.

He didn't have time to feel pain until he and Rashae hit the ground.
The moments became minutes. Rashae saw one guard go down and then another as she stepped forward. That was a deadly mistake as her support instinct as a doctor was prevalent to self-preservation. The Doctor was unaware of the true nature of the danger. Her hand would turn to one guard then the other as her mind went into full on emergency medical protocols.

She felt the ground hard first, then something quite unexpected hit her lower chest. Her pretty dress started expanding with a new color as she tried to breath. She knew her lung was deflating which was the lesser of the issues. Those little fingers gripped Ardgal’s shirt quite firmly and strongly at first. Those ice blue eyes looked right into his as they dilated in the shock her body was under. Her fists would not unravel from his shirt despite they were gradually weakening.

Rashae tried to say his name but it came out in a soft weeze. “Ardgal, Medkit, transport, now. “ She proceeded to give him precise one word instructions. “blood .. sealer.. “ she took a gasping breath as it was getting more difficult to breath not to mention talking. “lung.. de..flate..ted. “

Her beautiful hair was splayed out in stark blue black contrast to the pristine white in as much as the red made its artful presentation. The doctor knew she was not in great shape but she was alive. Why was her next thought.



He hadn’t expected for the cyborg to protect the woman. What did the woman have over the project? That project was supposed to be immune to female manipulation. Agent 42 started packing his sniper rifle to get the hell out of there. He was clumsy in doing so as he wanted some distance away from Ardgal Raxis.

The clatter through the ventilation system could be heard as he made quick access to the quick outs. He turned the cloaking device on and rolled a smoke bomb out an adjoining vent and scooted down another as he started quieting down. He did not know precisely all of Ardgal’s abilities but what little he could acquire simply said don’t screw with directly. His mission now was redirect any pursuit and get off this planet to report.

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]

The only thing that was truly horrifying was how unemotional Ardgal became at this point. His emotions had switched off the second the world began to move in slow motion. His mind moved in cunning, emotionless ways, controlled by a computer dedicated to one thing: Keeping him those around him alive. He looked at the woman. He could see the entry, but he didn't see the exit wound. She was bleeding, her assessment was correct--there was perfunctory lung damage but it was still in tact--and that was the important part.

Both of his arms wrapped around her in a ginger but more than strong enough hold that scooped her safely up into his arms. He sprinted out of the room, he didn't care if the other guards were on his tail or not--he needed to get the woman to safety. He reached the transport without offering a single word of comfort. His foot slammed against the access lever, and the hatch-back door wheezed open on its own hydraulics. The warrior set her on the surface, his eyes looked into hers for a moment.

It was stupid to pause in times like this. It was a tactical error. The most logical course of action was to keep moving and working until safety and stability were reached. But for a moment he stopped. Something inside him stopped himself, maybe it was still just a little bit human. His hand reached out and softly caressed her face, comfortingly.

"Hold on, Rashae. It will be alright," he said with confidence and gentleness for a moment.

Error: Imbalance detected and halted. Resuming medical action.

The softness in his brown eyes was hardened once more into that tactical, beskar-like edge. He set his Punisher pistol aside and pulled the medical kit from its stow away under one of the seats. He tore it open and quickly unwrapped two of the needles. Without forewarning he jabbed the first pain killer near the wound, emptying it quickly before grabbing a second syringe. The tip jabbed into her flesh, emptying the congealant/bacta mix into her. It would help to expedite the healing. He quickly double tapped the distress beacon hidden on his watch. The Godkillers and Alpha Company would soon be down here in droves. He patched the wound with gause. There wasn't much he could do with the lung, but for now he could stop the bleeding and keep her from getting shot a second time.

As his hands moved, giving her aid it felt like the warrior was outside of it all, an observer to his own body. He could see it all, he could feel it but it wasn't him. He could feel horror screaming, pure fear roaring in his mind. He wanted to scream. He wanted to stop and say something, to comfort her but his words couldn't come out. He wanted to push against it, to say he was sorry and he would get her through this. He wanted to promise her his army was coming and in less than sixty seconds she would be secure. But he couldn't. He tried, nothing.

He added a second layer of gauze to the wound, his dark eyes staring into the soaking fabric, willing it to get better. That was when he heard it. The sound of the drops descending at rapid speed. As the observe he felt relief, but as the body, all he could do was identify it; that his troops had arrived to take her to safety.

"Ardgal!" shouted Prometheus rushing towards them, flanked on either side by a medic and another soldier, "Are you--"

"I am safe, she is stable, she requires medical aid," Ardgal cut in. He turned to the two medics, all business in his stoney eyes, as he stepped aside so they could begin their work, "Take care of her."

She could almost see the shift between soft and hard. Maybe it was a trick, was it? Maybe it was her shocked state playing with her ability to reason. It hurt to be shifted even as gingerly as he did so. It was in those micro-moments before he picked her up to run to the medkit instead of bringing the medkit to her. The stubborn woman was trying to make her brain work, to guide him and tell him what he should be using. Then there was that moment the softness, the kindness returned. For once the ice melted as his hand curled around her face softly.

She didn’t want the softness, please be just as cold as she is. Its safer that way. Yet there it was, kindness. It was what she subconsciously needed to relax and know someone would take care of this. The woman was not alone. Rashae tried to speak but sounds were not coming out right as she tried to breath, which still hurt to take in a deep breath.

There was a gasp as he plunged the painkiller in. it was one of those hoarse gasps of one who wasn’t breathing well. Then the second one with the coagulants and bacta. She made a mental note to freaken teach him how to inject someone. That freaken hurt like hell blazing through her body. Despite his technique, she was improving and stabilized. Oxygen mask applied she would at least make it to a medical facility to reinflate her lung. The doctor noted that he was bleeding also. Her hand weakly went up to the exit wound at the front before he got up to meet his crew.

“You.. hurt.” She said as she was determined to get this out. “Take.. care.. “ She had to take a couple of the short breaths. “My… guards.. ship. “ She was trying to say her guards needed guidance, the dead ones taken care of and someone needed to tell her ship to take off and hopefully join Ardgal’s fleet for safety. “Please..”

It was at that point she had been taken care of by one of the medics that Prometheus brought. “Take it easy, Doc. “ As the medic started working on her. The lady tried to talk some more, straining as she wheezed insisting that Ardgal and these other things be taken care of, but she passed out before she could attempt to say them again.


Get to the ship get to the ship.. Agent 42 was in high speed trying to get to the space port to get to his ship. Fear does many things. In this case it gave him nimbleness and a lot of adrenaline to keep up the pace to attempt to make it to his ship. Fear can also make you sloppy. Zooming in and out of traffic in a most dangerous way.

Must get their faster. It seemed like forever instead of a few minutes that he jumped out of the speeder before it came to a stop and was at a run into the space port.


Her head tossed back and forth. The heart rate rapidly increased. The Medics were a bit concerned as their patient was in the throws of some nightmare. Then suddenly as if the waking dead the woman in their care came up screaming. A couple of medics and nurses tried to console her as she pushed them away. No one could help this. No one.

Rashae hadn’t had this nightmare since Dolden and the republic exiles. She put her face in her hands before finding herself telling those around her to “Go away!!”

It was her defense mechanism. It was better that way. The mandalorian medics tend to be a bit of a more robust lot as the no nonsense types. They understood ptsd when they saw it. Before Rashae could say or tell them No, a hypo was shot into her neck with a mild solution to calm her behind down.

“easy doc. You on Raxis flag ship. Just relax. You need to rest for a bit. Just lay back and rest. We got you.” They said as careful as possible. This wasn’t one of their soldiers. This wasn’t a civilian exactly either but they couldn’t treat Rashae like their soldiers.

“Where is Ardgal, he was hurt. Where is my ship. Where is Agent 42!!” The solution they gave her might not be enough as her stats increased and she started sweating. Gripping the edge of the medical bed in a white knuckle strength.

They wasn’t sure how to answer the last one. “Ardgal is fine. Your ship is with our fleet following us. I don’t know about the last one, Doc. Now relax or I am going to have to put you under. “

She looked at him and glared at the medic a she was about ready to rise up and fight him off, anyone. She had been told that before. Too many times. ‘now behave or we will have to put you under, again.’ Echoed in her head. She found herself screaming “Go Away!!” As her knees came up in a self defensive shell type maneuver. The self sufficient woman was not there at this time. Why were they doing this? They were not satisfied with just leaving her be. She didn’t have the formula. Now they want to kill her.

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]
Ardgal felt her touch his wound, it was soft, so it didn’t register as pain, and even if it did—his pain threshold was far from reached with one shot. The man had been ripped apart on the cellular level and put back together again. You didn’t come back from that without upping your pain levels. He wanted to tell her that he would be ok, to not worry, to say that he was going to make it through alive.

“It’s manageable,” were the words that came out of his mouth instead, steely cold and useful for nothing more than information, a small counter in his mind was ticking down, keeping track of how long he had before went critical. It consumed just a sliver of his thinking power, “26 minutes, 9 seconds before the wound becomes severe.”

He could feel the pain, that was for sure, and it was causing a sheen of sweat on his skin that was visible. Two of the other medics moved to take care of Ardgal. He looked down at his wound. The humanity in him, the bit of flesh that had taken the back seat for the time being saw his stained garment. His blood. And her’s. They were mixed in a red blot that was growing.

“Do not destroy this shirt,” he said as they moved to treat him, “I want to keep this.”

“Sir?” one of the officers looked at him with a perplexed look.

“To never forget.” He was struggling to hold on to control for just a sliver of a second more, “There will be revenge.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“And bring me a datapad,” he said leaning back so they could get to work on patching him up, “Time is essential to take care of this. I want an entire read out on data in this area, analysis of anything that could move into the area, and away from it. Traffic cameras. Comm units. ATM machine cameras. If it has a sensor I want us to access it. I want full scan of all ships coming in and going out. Tag and back it all. Send all the data to me. It doesn’t matter how long it takes we will find them.”

“Yes, sir.”

It would take his own personal touch to weed all the data out and find what he was looking for, to analyze the data for the synchrony. You started a war with that one bullet. I will never stop hunting you. I will never stop looking. There is no pit in hell deep enough to hide you, no back water world dark enough to keep you from my eyes. Wherever you go—death will be hot on your heels. The warrior wished for one moment that he wasn’t force dead so he could somehow send that message telepathically. I hope you’re ready for what you started. “And keep me updated on the status of the doctor.”

Ardgal sat back in the chair, his eyes surrounded by hundreds of camera feeds, flickering through all of the feeds through the entire city. An entire city’s info over the short time they had spent on its surface was gathered and placed before him. Normally it would have taken hours and a small army to syphon out the good from the bad—but for Ardgal he was halfway done and it had been an hour or so. He was hot on the trail of their opponent, had caught glimpses of their mysterious spy. He was so deeply immersed in the data he didn’t notice the sound of Prometheus’ boots hitting the durasteel surface until the man was almost right next to him. “Yes?”

“The doctor, she’s awake, sir.” Prometheus said with a slightly hesitant swallow, “And, uh, she’s not exactly happy.”

The general quirked a brow, looking away from his work, Not exactly happy? Elaborate.”

“She has gotten slightly violent, sir. Looks like PTSD. And she’s asking about you, sir.”
He rose from his chair, wincing slightly. The Fierreo accelerated healing had paid off, he was mostly better but the lingering pain was still there. “Thank you, Prometheus.”

He crossed a few halls, his boots clacking on the worn durasteel plating as he made his way to her room. The entire ship had seen many years of service, not just under Ardgal but also the man’s predecessor—and the previous owner before they had liberated it fleeing Duros. It was still working, even if she was worn around the edges but the Atonement was all they needed for now.

“I’m here, Rashae,” the general said moving closer to her bedside. It was more of a statement of fact than anything else.

The doctors and nurses on hand looked at him with silent protest but stepped aside for their boss to do his work. The general analyzed the situation. His logic told him to restrain her, to make sure she wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. It was the most assured way to protect herself and others. But there were some things that logic couldn’t do.

His calloused hand reached out and grabbed her forearm with a soft, but firm hold. It was a gentle, comforting, what she probably needed at the moment more than his natural reaction.

“I’m alright,” he said, his brown eyes staring at her steadily. They weren’t particularly gentle, but they were confident, assured, and honest. “You are alright. We got you off planet, no one can hurt you here in my fleet.”
The Raxis Flag ship doctors would find her pain threshold to be interestingly higher than what an Alderaan noble highly educated individual would be expected to have. Rashae’s drug tolerance was also rather high as she continued to shrug off the mild relaxant they gave her earlier. Readings had biological stats, adrenals, pineal and pituitary functions to be abnormally high. It was oddly similar to their General only the Doctor there has had no training, no augmentation, nada. Not nearly on the same level as Ardgal Raxis but it was similar. How could she acquire such levels?

There were those who converged on her as she became combative. As she lashed out at anyone who even thought about touching her. Sweat was sheening on her skin. Nothing registered till her flailing arms came into contact with Ardgal’s firm grip. She pulled and pushed against a wall it seemed. That was until she looked into his eyes. There was a stark blinding white fear. Desperation and fear drove the young brunette at the moment. Those steady words and that immovable hand that held her arm firmly but without hurting.

Then she started trembling. Every fiber of her being shivered and trembled as her free hand grasped onto a part of his shirt and white knuckled tightly held on. Then she sobbed. It wasn’t a wailing sob but a silent sort of sob one can barely hear. It was as if she was afraid of anyone hearing such a thing. Rashae has had a lot of practice sobbing quietly alone.

‘no one can hurt you’ those words echoed repeatedly as she grabbed onto that shred of sanity. Rashae felt so small, defenseless and utterly vulnerable. The staff felt relieved she at least stopped thrashing as someone tried to put a blanket over her trembling shoulders. It was like everything was flashing in her mind of all that happened to her again, over and over again. Stats of brain activity on the Minister was phenomenally high for someone just injected with a relaxant. Her eyes darted around Ardgal without moving from her grip looking at exits, hidey holes, anything she might need.

The woman closed her eyes as she berated herself, fighting with the fear, herself and reason. “They used to just follow me, now they want to kill me. Wh wh what do I do?” As the tears ran anew. “I don’t have it, I never had it. Why are they still doing this? Why? “ As she became increasingly more agitated again.
Ardgal knew trauma when he saw it, not just as an observer but as someone who had been there. Someone who was still there. At times the chip in his brain, the same thing that drove him to the verge of insanity, was the same thing keeping him sane. He knew that hunted look, that horror. He saw it when he looked in the mirror and he saw it when his own men were driven too hard and were struggling to hold on.

He looked at the others in the room, "Dismissed."

They filed out, guards and doctors alike exited as quickly as they could with that direct order, leaving Ardgal alone with the woman. They kept their mouths shut on if it was wise or a tactical error. After a minute, the two were completely alone. The warrior sat on the edge of her gurney next to Rashae. He could see she was losing it again, talking about someone out to get her, following her, and how she didn't have what they wanted. He didn't know, and while he could piece together her history, and his mechanical half said that the most intelligent course of action would be to find her history bit by bit, he had chosen not to.

He had elected to trust and let the doctor tell him when she was ready.

He pulled her closer, letting the smaller woman rest on his well-muscled chest. The only thing separating them was his blue dress shirt and her medical gown. As his arms wrapped around her gently, it was in part tactical choice--if she became dangerous it would be easier to restrainer--and a much larger part meant it as a comforting act. He could feel the pull of his mechanical side, warning him of the danger, telling him to restrain her, sedate her completely, that this was all a tactical error that could get him killed. It took a great deal of effort to overwrite and resist it, almost all of his willpower.

"Close your eyes," he said softly, remembering what he had learned to deal with his PTSD. The doctors hadn't helped him learn to deal with the hell he had been through, he had to find his own ways, his own methods to survive. "Just listen to my voice. Feel the air. Smell the world around you. Feel my arms around you. This is reality. This is where you are. Focus on this, this is real. This is the present, this is the moment." He tilted her head up so [member="Rashae"] could see his eyes. "Nothing else matters. The past doesn't matter. Only this moment. Focus on this. Feel every bit of it. Pull yourself back from the past. I will be your anchor to help you stay in this moment away from the pain, away from the past."
Rashae wasn’t expecting the arm around her trembling shoulders. She wasn’t expecting the warmth. The panicked woman wasn’t expecting compassion. None of that. His bulky frame and tall physique dwarfed her slight form. It was if the compassion of the warmth on contact seemed to be absorbed by the young doctor. Her hair hung about her face loosely, unkempt. That raven dark head of hair naturally laid on the shoulder as he spoke.

She did close her eyes as what tears remained flowed down her cheeks in the premade trail that was proceeded by many of them. Her ears grabbed onto his baritone voice like it was life itself. Something tangible to hang on to. Anchor? Yes that’s what she needed. Her hand hadn’t let go of his dress shirt, still in a tight grip as she listened to his voice. She may not have heard entirely its content but the soft low timbre was calming. Her breathing was just starting to slow and ease as he lifted her chin. Those eyelids softly closed as the light hits her face and those lovely lids peeled back to see liquid light blue.

Usually, under most circumstances those light blues would be hard and cold. Rashae used that cold and hard attitude to keep people and circumstances away. It was a defense mechanism. With those defenses currently gone, what was left was the raw being of a woman within those pools of clear light blue eyes. Those same eyes were piercing and seeking into the deep dark abyssal browns of Ardgals.

Ardgal’s eyes were usually hard and analytical. The Doctor could handle that sort as it was similar to her cold and calculating. She didn’t like being this vulnerable, but she couldn’t help it and there he was offering an anchor. Was it wise? Maybe not. No sense of logic could turn her away from her base instincts grabbing onto that anchor like a life preserver. She feared his softer side more than his hard side. Why? It meant he could get close. Yet, she didn’t move not one muscle.

The woman then closed her eyes and rested her head back on his shoulder. Just rested. She was very conscious and very awake but the Lady soaked up the comfort and compassion. The hapless woman probably couldn’t say how much time elapsed and she wouldn’t care if someone told her the time. After such a time, her eyes opened and yet still didn’t move one muscle.

“I suppose… an explanation is in order. “ She said in a calmer and subdued voice. Still on the fragile side but far more reasonable. She swallowed hard.

“The records of what I am about to tell you are likely sealed, closed or otherwise extremely difficult to acquire intelligence. What information I have is highly classified. I graduated top of my Academy. Specialize in genetics specifically fusions and transgenics. I took an offer to the Galactic Coop. Supposedly it’s a joining of several companies into one giant coop but honestly there are one or two running the whole show but in short they are very powerful in pharma and biotechnology. “ her voice trembled a little but she continued.

“I started out well enough working on small projects gaining reputation. I gained more and more access to classified projects. Finally, I was put on one of their pet projects after a couple of their scientists went to a classified cyborg project. Apparantly that was you. I produced results and we were close to having the product marketable.” All of this was innocuous enough as she circled in to more details.

“The product was a transgenic fusion that produced psychological drug in food that renders who eats it very susceptible to suggestion. The right entities could take over a population, a city even a whole system with little to no conflict. There was an antiserum to counter act the product of course. The fusion of the main ingredient was key. The project was code named Mindbreaker. “ It wasn’t her choice of names but men, even nerds, liked to make things sound ominous.

“I was involved with another scientist on the project. Xander Stallor was his name. I was blind and foolish. The man couldn’t produce a fusion if his life depended on it. He used my credentials to steal the anti-serum formula, wiped the research data and the head scientist also disappeared. I was blamed for everything. Charged with corporate espionage. My family disowned me. “ Fresh tears started falling.

“After they couldn’t pin the charge due to lack of evidence, I was in their prison for…. At least a year, maybe a year and a half. “ It would be questionable if that time was accurate. She also tried to talk several times after that. Her body tensed up as she was trying to work out how she was going to say the next part.

“they did things. Mind probes. “ Yes plural on the mind probes as if one wasn’t enough. “shocks, no food/water at times. no light, no … “ She closed her eyes as burrowed her face into his shoulder.
Ardgal just held her there. It was a new thing for him, even pre-Madman he was not the soft comforting type, he had been legalistic, a little aloof, and noble. Some things hadn't changed, some things had. It took a lot of effort in him to stay the mechanical side him once more, it wanted to fix everything, to find the solution, to piece together the connection and powerhouse through whoever was responsible. But that couldn't happen--for now. It wasn't who and what was needed. So he held her, he was her anchor. And that was enough to just be here and be present.

When she mentioned her lover who betrayed her, his fingers ran through her soft hair in a calming, gentle caress. He pursed his lips together, the warrior didn't know what to say he searched his mind for the right reply.

Possible responses 1) it was your fault. 2) You should have been more careful 3) We must capture those responsible. Rejected. Recalculating replies: 1) You called this on yourself. 2) The signs were there 3) We must get back to work. Rejected. Recalculating replies: 1) This is why we do not mix love and work. 2) Illogical action results in tragic consequences. 3) Our efforts must be concentrated on the task at hand.

"We all make mistakes," he said softly, "Everyone, all the time," he swallowed, gathering his thoughts. His words came slowly as the warrior fought with every thing against the machine in his mind telling him otherwise, "These things, they do not define us. Its how we overcome them that matters. Its how we act after we fail, its how we pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off that counts."

As he listened to what Rashae had been subjected to he felt a lot of things. Memory. They had done more than just experiment on him, they had conditioned him. They had constructed something devastating by devastating him. His arms wrapped around her tighter, but not painfully so, as the doctor burrowed her face in his shoulder. His had cradled her neck as the woman's tears flowed down her face, his jaw locked tight as a flood of memories tore through his mind.

The Bright white flood lights seering his vision. The pain of the beatings to test his resilience after testing. The forced marches, the deadly runs through the frost, the heat beating down on him. The burns that had blistered across his body. His breath became hard as the remembrance of all of it threatened to come back. Torture. Experiments. Conditioning.

Come back. Come back to your anchor. He swallowed, focusing on the feeling of Rashae in his arms, her warmth, her need, her tears. He let that pull him back, back to the moment, to reality from the edge of sanity and the past, to the present with his attempt at sanity.

"It hurts to be torn apart," he said a last, "It hurts to be taken apart piece by piece and examined, like a dissected animal on a metal tray, with your mind, your heart, all of you laid out for everyone to see," he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out another memory, "And--it is hell itself to be totally broken apart. But it doesn't mean that you can't be put back together."
What passed between them was a mutual understanding of the suffering each had underwent. Granted it wasn’t on the scale Ardgal experienced, still it was common ground. Rashae never had this before, this level of understanding. It was like a new door opening that granted her a little solace. She still hadn’t moved from that spot. The woman still soaked up the warmth and compassion like a starving child.

She found herself hanging onto him tighter than she realized. She nodded to him as he passionately said those words. It was if Ardgal’s passion fueled a part of her somehow. Rashae couldn’t put exactly a finger on it but at the moment she just went with it.

They may not define us but that doesn’t stop the nightmares.” She said in a low voice. “They don’t stop the sleepless nights. “

She closed her eyes and took a breath in. There was a scent to Ardgal. Part of the scent was synthetic but beneath that was something else. Something very male about it. That had its comfort as well. Part of her wanted to push away to not inhale that scent too heavily. She was still a bit too scattered to revert to the hard icy persona that she provided most people. Yet her muscles wouldn’t move, her body refused to uncurl from that shoulder and her hand would not uncurl from the grip she had on his dress shirt. The woman attempted to forcefully drive it from her thoughts as she refocused on the current events.

“I don’t want to ever go back there. Just when I thought the nightmares were fewer and things were going well, they come back. Agents keep hunting me. Now im back to looking over my shoulder everywhere. “ She huffed out a long exhale. Her hand went to where the bullet wound and lung was still recovering and repairing. She could feel that ache and pain now. She winced visibly but then whatever pain killers was in her system have probably burned off. So, she started talking more. Still she hadn’t moved from the spot she had secured herself in of Ardgal’s shoulder.

“No one believed me that I didn’t have the formula. They still don’t. I suspect Xander has it still. On second thought I doubt he could figure out how to fuse the extract of the main ingredient much less combine the ingredients for the anti-serum. The Galactic Coop can’t sell the Mindbreaker without that serum. They will lose millions, billions of credits.” People got cranky when it came to credits, even more so the larger the amount.

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