Private Scuffed and Familiar

[Arris Windrun]

DESEVRO ACADEMY
Tag: Acier Moonbound
Mentioned: Vestra Tane

How long had it been since Genarius? Days, weeks? It was hard to keep track, hard to stay focused... especially on Desevro, where a thicket of icy clouds regularly dusted out the star. There was only the scattered light, somewhere between early morning and a winter's afternoon.

Arris leaned over the crumbling stone ledge and smoked her cigarette. It seemed every day there were more and more acolytes to join them. What began at the First Conclave had bloomed into something more - an army of darkness, bound by Covenant.

"A galactic dark age is a Sith golden age," she muttered the proverb.

It wasn't anything fancy or inspiring, but it set in motion the very belief that now spread throughout the galaxy. Everyone knew shit was falling apart in the Core, but perhaps what they didn't understand is that all that pain and starvation they saw as calamity wasn't new. It existed all around them, they just never bothered to look until the day it all began to burn. Good riddance, then, to the Alliance. May it be the last.

In the crowd of acolytes below, she spotted one who drew a lot of curiosity; the captured Jedi from Genarius, Vestra's prize.

"Jedi," she called down to him. "Up here - now!" Demanded as the cigarette burned between her metal fingers.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't jump when she barked his name. Didn't bother acting like a caged Jedi dragged out for inspection. He just lifted his head from the crowd's murmur and moved.

He climbed up the broken bone steps steadily, carrying a rhythm that said he'd been through far worse climates than Desevro's bone-cold gloom. It bit at his robes, the stink of her cigarette coiling in the air.

Ace didn't bow his head, nor avert his eyes. He looked right at her, at the metal fingers, the dead-mirror eyes, the Force snarling through her implants like a chained animal with too much bite and not enough leash.

"You wanted me." He said quietly. Flat.

The wind cut between them. Silence stretched. Then, just as evenly, no raise in his voice, no spark of heat, just that measured steel that came from surviving one ruin after another.

"And save the drill sergeant routine for the others." His gaze held hers. "Pulling rank and yelling won't suddenly make me a lap dog."

The Sith here seemed all about individualism - both in power and character. Yet, they followed rank and an invisible structure. He hadn't been here long, but it's what he'd picked up on. It all seemed... contradictory.

Arris Windrun ​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Arris watched him walk the steps and leaned against a decaying pillar after she turned to face him.

"You wanted me." He said quietly. Flat.

"Yeah," she answered with another drag.

His next words provoked a snicker and a smirk. "Oh, don't worry - I save that shit for the Pit." She doubted he knew what that meant, but it mattered little in the moment.

She took another drag, this time smoking it down to the roach that practically disappeared between her fingers, and blew it out like a thick fog. Though it appeared a party trick, it was really artificial lungs inhaling so powerfully as to burn it all at once.

The cyborg looked him up and down, noticed the arm, too. "Hey, is that Beskar?" She thought to herself, an amused question, and she suppressed the urge to ask.

Instead, "So Vestra kicked your ass and dragged you back?"

Arris pushed herself off the pillar and took a few steps closer until there was maybe half an arm's length between them, and their eyes met quite exactly as they were the same height. Okay, maybe he had an inch on her.

"Have you thought how easy it is to leave?" She turned her gaze back to the courtyard and the field of idle ships deeper in the valley.

She drew another cigarette from her leather jacket and offered him one as well.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't move when she stepped closer. He let the distance stay exactly where she set it, as if proximity meant nothing one way or another. Her question about Vestra drew the smallest tilt of his head.

He gently bit his lower lip, as if biting back what he really wanted to say. His pride wanted to confess that he threw the fight. Because he did. Maybe Vestra would have stopped him in the end, but it wouldn't have been the 'ass-kicking' that's been floating around the Academy.

"Something like that." He finally answered through gritted teeth.

When she looked past him, toward the courtyard, the ships, the valley that led out into Desevro's endless cold. She asked if he'd thought about how easy it was to leave.

Ace followed her gaze, briefly. Not long enough to look tempted. Not long enough to look trapped.

"If it was easy." He said "Everyone here would've done it already."

Ace's eyes lowered to the cigarette Arris offered. Then they flicked up to meet hers, carrying the same steady calm as before.

"I don't smoke."

His eyes returned to the valley, not with longing, or regret either. Just a man taking measure of his surroundings and the weight of the choice he'd already made.

"I'm not here to run anyway." He said "I'm here because I believe in... this." A lie. "The way I've lived my life. I hadn't realized the Covenant carried the same values."

That last part? The line between truth and exaggeration were blurred. Because, Ace had lived his life believing in individualism, he had grown up not trusting institutions. And, he was living proof that hardship only made one stronger. On paper, his views aligned with the Covenant.

His previous words hung for a moment, then Ace spoke again.

"So, what? You brought me up here to remind me Vestra... kicked my ass? Tempt me to leave? Test the 'Jedi'?"

Arris Windrun ​

 

[Arris Windrun]

"If it was easy." He said "Everyone here would've done it already."

Arris withdrew the offering as it was dismissed, lit her cigarette with a Black Sun lighter, and took a pull. She blew it out towards the courtyard. Her facial muscles were likely uncanny from this distance, with subtle seams between her synthflesh where the various cybernetics and implants connected.

"Eh," she shrugged a little. "Yeah, not everyone has earned the right to leave, but most of 'em choose to be here."

She turned back to him with a smirk. "We just make a special exception for Jedi, yeah?"

"I'm not here to run anyway." He said "I'm here because I believe in... this." A lie. "The way I've lived my life. I hadn't realized the Covenant carried the same values."

Reading others was one of the Talusian's many survival skills, and not something she ever (if she even knew how) used the Force for guidance in. Cyber eyes probed his expression, and audio receptors picked up on the slight hesitation in his voice. It didn't mean he was lying - she didn't know him well enough to know that, but it did mean he considered his words.

Her cigarette burned idly in her hand as she pondered what to make of it. Enough time for her to have said nothing while he spoke again.

Arris shook her head. "No - I'm just a little surprised at how quickly you've settled in, is all."

That was a moment for her to probe him a little further. "You say we carry the same values... what values are those?"

There was more to the woman's interest than just the Jedi's providence and intentions, however. A captured Jedi of the High Republic? That was quite the piece to have in play, but first she'd need to know more about him. He carried himself with an apparent self-assuredness that other captured Jedi lacked. Usually, they endured periods of despair and questioning before coming to "believe" in the Covenant.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace paused, eyes glancing toward nothing in particular as he let Arris's words settle. Not everyone had the right to leave, most chose to stay, special exceptions for Jedi. Ace couldn't tell if that last part was a joke or not.

Her question that followed, he didn't answer right away. Ace simply held her stare, unblinking, as she asked what values he supposedly shared with the Covenant.

When he finally spoke, his tone was measured. "Where I grew up... nobody saved you. Not the law. Not the Force. Not the people in charge."

His gaze drifted past her shoulder for a moment. It wasn't wistful, or wounded. He was just recalling.

"You survived because you learned how. You fought because no one else would." Then his dark eyes settled on hers. "Strength earned. Not given."

Ace folded his arms, expression hardening now. "You preach that you value individual strength. Growth through strife. Freedom from someone else's doctrine. None of that's new to me."

He let his words settle, then added one last thing to drive the point home.

"It's how my life's always been."

Ace didn't say this with pride, or to impress. For a long time, that was just the way the galaxy worked in his eyes. Now? Things were more nuanced, but, it still existed as a part of him that was true enough to use as cover.

After a few moments, he spoke up again - dry, controlled, impossibly measured.

"I'm not a Jedi by the way. Just gave up on correcting people."

Arris Windrun ​

 

[Arris Windrun]

She finished her second cigarette as he spoke.

Somewhere along the line, Arris felt a touch of relatability with his background. Of course, he might've just been saying all that.

It was the last part, though, that earned a raised brow.

"I'm not a Jedi by the way. Just gave up on correcting people."

"I know the type," she replied.

From Tilon Quill to Jared Starchaser , she had come to know "Jedi" (or "not quite Jedi," as some put it) that defied the expectations and doctrines of the two major Orders... or was there just the one now?

Though she wondered what kind of "not quite Jedi" Acier was to readily throw in with a group of rowdy Sith.

She tilted her head and asked. "Have you been to Nar Shaddaa?" Arris elaborated, "I need to evaluate you before you've earned your pass to come and go as you please."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Arris mentioned 'knowing the type' after Ace had mentioned not being a Jedi. He wasn't surprised. He'd met enough people across the galaxy who thought they had him figured out after a sentence or two. He tilted his head slightly, just quietly curious what "type" she thought he was.

Ace didn't flinch, but the mention of Nar Shaddaa pulled a reaction out of him. It was subtle, involuntary, and his brow tightened in the smallest manner.

"…Unfortunately." He said. "I've been."

His tone stayed level, but the disdain underneath it was unmistakable.

"I hate that place."

No elaboration. No story. Just the plain, resigned truth of someone who had endured Nar Shaddaa once and felt that was already one time too many. Except, fate... or the Force... had a knack of making him return there.

He exhaled once, slow.

"But if that's where you need me, I'll go." His eyes met hers again, steady, deadpan. "Why Nar Shaddaa though?"

Arris Windrun​

 

[Arris Windrun]

She's seen that kind of look before to know he had been there, before he confirmed it.

"I hate that place."

"No one will accuse you of thinking outside the box," she jested with a small 'heh' in reply.

His willingness was a good sign. Arris preferred when they didn't argue or complain. She turned away from him and walked towards the stone steps, stopping to turn when he asked.

"Why Nar Shaddaa though?"

She looked at him with a grin, hooked a hand inside her jacket and the cropped shirt beneath, pulling both aside to reveal Black Sun ink just below the collarbone.

"Why indeed."

The cyborg kept walking and waved for him to follow. The flight to Nar Shaddaa was a little long as far as jumps go, but otherwise it was uneventful. Arris wasn't a social creature in space, preferring to leave any passengers to their own devices and hoping they left her just as well alone.

The light freighter exited with a little blip and a flash of light, a bit uncomfortably close to other vessels funneled in by the Black Sun's blockade. They controlled the moon with the kind of power that no crime syndicate should ever have. If those Lucrehulk battleships wanted to, they could glass the vertical city in a matter of days. That was the kind of fear people now lived under, and yet that fear was easily betrayed once you arrived at any of the countless entertainment districts.

Speaking of... Arris brought the freighter down in the Red Light Sector.

When they stepped off, Arris turned to him. "Welcome back to Narsh, Jed--err... Actually, what is your name?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't react much when she flashed the tattoo, just noted it to memory. Black Sun. Nar Shaddaa. Of course those two things went together. It made too much awful sense.

He followed without complaint, settling into the freighter with the same stillness he'd carried since Desevro. He didn't try to make small talk. Didn't try to fill the silence. Honestly? He preferred it. Arris's lack of chatter made the hours tolerable.

But when the ship dropped out of hyperspace and the neon stained moon came into view, something in his expression dimmed. Complete and utter spiritual defeat. Nar Shaddaa stirred feelings of hatred and disgust within him that'd make a Sith Lord blush.

The closer they flew, the worse it got. The blockade, the battleships, the traffic lanes squeezed tight with desperation masquerading as industry.

As they stepped off the freighter and into the Red Light Sector, Arris welcomed him back and almost slipped on "Jedi." He simply glanced at her, tired in that quiet, Ace way.

"Acier." He said, then after a moment. "Most call me Ace."

No 'Vayun', no 'Acier Verd'. Just the name he'd had to survive under long before the Force or the Covenant ever entered his life. He took in the streets around them: the glow, the crowds, the noise buried under noise.

"I know who you are though." He added. "But how does a Black Sun come under the Sith Covenant?"

Arris Windrun ​

 

[Arris Windrun]

"Ace?" She chewed on the name. "I like short nicknames."

Hell, she had even gone so far as to call Mercy 'Merce' just to drop a syllable.

"I know who you are though." He added.

She threw a glance over her shoulder at him and wore a wide grin. Arris was exactly the kind of woman who enjoyed her notoriety, the good and the bad. Though rather than press him to say more about how he knew her, she instead answered his question as they walked down the street.

"Kattada," she replied. "That was the day the Covenant was born, but..."

Her words trailed off. It was difficult not to think about Tilon whenever she recalled what happened then. Arris had been told about the enclave by him; he invited her to train there, to become a Jedi... or, at least, not become a Sith. Instead, it was Mercy who approached the cyborg after their fight in the Galactic Kaggath. They schemed together, planned to hit something good, and that was when Arris gave up the enclave's location.

The rest? Well, the rest led her right here, to this very moment.

"Mauve du Vain recruited me to the Black Sun. Now that she's dead..." Arris swallowed that thought hard. "...I'm sitting on her turf. Credits flow, yeah?"

It was a hard truth to justify. Mauve was gone--dead as far as she knew--and that was just after Mercy gave Arris the reins to her turf as well. Practically overnight, Arris ended up a Vigo in all but name, and perhaps controlled the largest territory on Nar Shaddaa short of the Underlord himself. There was always Razmir, but he still hasn't come out of hiding since that one million credit bounty went up on his head.

Arris turned around, quite in the middle of foot traffic, and placed a hand on each hip.

"What do you know about the Seventh Year Showdown?"

A little bit of Narsh lore: every seven years, the seasons and main events of various circuits (swoop, smashball, shockboxing, etc.) are more or less aligned, prompting an event called the Seventh Year Showdown. See, the big shot gangsters and syndicates at the top of the chain needed a way to keep the peace. The Showdown was that way - a grand contest where smaller gangs bet turf, talent, credits, favors, and market control with a nod from the kingmakers above them.

This was to be the first Showdown since the Black Sun took control, and Arris doubted the Underlord cared enough about lower gang tradition to pay attention. As far as she was aware, it was the Hutts--who paid their taxes to the Sun--that were charged with organizing it.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Nar Shaddaa

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace slowed at the mention of Kattada. Not visibly, but anyone watching closely would catch it. A subtle stilling, like a thought settling into alignment.

"Kattada..." He repeated.

That explained it. The wrongness he'd felt there months ago. The way the Force had shifted sideways. The same feeling he'd felt again on Genarius. Different worlds. Same frequency. So this was the line, this was where it began... which meant his hunch was right all along.

He didn't press for more information, lest he draw unneeded suspicion on to himself. He looked back to her, curiosity measured, deliberate. Arris mentioned Mauve du Vain... dead. That was news to him. He'd never met her personally, but he'd run around with Black Sun here and there. Knew she was a big deal.

"Mauve du Vain's dead?" He quietly blurted out.

When she stopped, in the middle of foot traffic, Ace's brow quirked. The Seventh Year Showdown. When he answered, he didn't pretend more than he knew.

"I've heard of it." He said. "Not in detail."

His gaze drifted briefly to the crowds, the layers of traffic and light stacked on desperation.

"I didn't grow up here. But the underworld talks. Enough to know it's a pressure valve. Gangs settle things without starting wars. Turf, talent, favors."

He looked back to her then, eyes sharpening slightly. There was a reason she was telling him this, did it link to the Covenant? To her? Or...

"... This has something to do with the evaluation, doesn't it?"

Arris Windrun ​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Acier Moonbound

She caught his reaction, wasn't sure what it was all about, and didn't press, but it was clear to her he was at least familiar with Kattada.

Then the mention of Mauve du Vain came from his lips as well, this time quieter. It seemed Acier was one to make mental notes as they talked. A good listener, perhaps? She did wonder. But of course, neither Kattada nor Mauve was the real topic at hand. As the acolyte asked her about his evaluation, all those other matters dropped from the cyborg's mind.

"You catch on," she remarked. "See, the Showdown exists for another reason, too... bank for the casinos."

That fact set the stage for her next point. "But some recent 'power shifts' have drawn the Underlord's attention away from what goes on down here.

"He can't be everywhere at once, which is where the Vigos and their enforcers come in."

Their little walk led them from the busy row of clubs, gambling dens, and other purveyors of vice into a quiet service alley.

Arris jumped and climbed a fire escape. She turned around, knelt, and offered Ace a hand.

"I need your help to set some people straight ahead of the Showdown." She said while looking down at him. More like fixing the results, is what she meant.

Once he joined her above, they would enter a window a few stories higher. Arris brought a metal finger to her lips; a warning to keep quiet, as she lowered her voice.

"Place belongs to the Six-Five Clippers - a swoop gang... violent fucks, but the Hutts tolerate 'em. They recently brought in Peek Zannon, three-time champion of the Outer Rim 400 Series, to get 'em ahead... we can't have someone like Peek pulling for the Six-Fives, yeah?"

Arris glanced at his lightsaber. "Think you can take care of it?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Nar Shaddaa

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't comment as Arris laid it out. The casinos, the Underlord's absence, the Vigos filling the gaps? It all tracked. Not surprising. Structure revealing itself and all that.

He followed her into the alley without hesitation, took her hand when it was offered, and climbed after her in silence. Inside, when she lowered her voice and named the Six-Five Clippers, Ace listened. The gang. The Hutts tolerating them. The racer. Peek Zannon. Three-time champion. Enough to tilt the odds.

When Arris glanced at his lightsaber, Ace noticed. He didn't rest a hand on it. Didn't shift his stance to suggest threat. He just met her look, calm and level, as if the weapon were incidental rather than an answer.

"I can take care of it." He said quietly. "What does 'taken care of' look like to you?"

He wasn't resisting, or challenging, but showing competence - the kind that assumed outcomes mattered more than methods.

"If you want him... unable to race." Ace went on, voice low, controlled, "That's easy. If you want the Six-Fives rattled without starting a feud, that's different. And if this needs to disappear without anyone tracing it back to you…"

He let the sentence trail off. It wasn't a threat or a promise. Just understanding. Ace finally glanced toward the window they'd entered through, the neon glow bleeding faintly into the dark. Then his eyes returned to Arris, steady.

"Tell me the end state. I'll handle the rest."

Arris Windrun ​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Acier Moonbound

"You ask the right questions," she said with a curt nod.

"I'll be clear - It won't trace back to me, yeah? But it will raise questions and doubts. Kill him, and leave a mess."

Arris quietly crouched across the room and opened the door, peering around the corner to make sure it was clear. Once that was confirmed, she waved Ace over and gestured down the hall towards the stairs.

"Don't disappoint me," she patted him once on the back. "Oh, and use your lightsaber." That point was nonnegotiable from her tone.

The cyborg stood up and leaned against the wall.

"Meet me at a place called Xom's when you're done. It's on the main street, tacky sign with a Rancor on it, you won't miss it."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Nar Shaddaa

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't react when she said it. The clarification landed: no trace back to her, questions raised, doubt seeded, a mess left behind. He absorbed it the same way he'd absorbed everything else tonight. Quietly. Precisely.

Kill him.

Something tightened in his chest before he pushed it down where it couldn't slow him. This wasn't a fight. This wasn't defense. This was... execution. He didn't let himself dwell on the word.

When Arris patted his back, Ace accepted it without comment. acknowledging her with a single nod. At the mention of his lightsaber, his eyes flicked to it for the barest moment.

He stepped past her when she waved him on, movements quiet, deliberate. Already, he was closing doors inside himself, sealing the part of him that would hesitate, that would ask if this was the line.

Later, he told himself. Think about it later.

At the top of the stairs, he paused once and looked back. "Xom's. I'll be there." He confirmed.

Then he turned away, letting the corridor swallow him. Ace didn't tell himself this was right, he told himself it was necessary. Don't blow cover. Earn their trust.

Ace moved down the stairs without hurry, controlled and steady. The sounds of the Six-Five Clippers' territory bled in as he descended. He let the noise wash over him without engaging. This wasn't a place to listen with feeling. This was a place to navigate.

He didn't slow when he reached the door. He slipped through the threshold like he'd always been meant to be there, the noise of the room swallowing him whole. Engines whined, laughter was sharp, someone argued over credits. Too loud. Too busy. The perfect cover.

Peek Zannon stood near the back, half-turned, mid-conversation. Confident. Untouchable. The kind of man who believed reputation was armor. Ace didn't give him time to realize how wrong that was.

The lightsaber ignited in a clean snap-hiss: bright, unmistakable, a blue blade cutting through the grime-stained air. The sound alone fractured the room.

Shouts broke out. Someone swore. A chair scraped back, and Ace crossed the distance in two strides. Peek turned, eyes widening... not in fear at first, but confusion. Recognition came too late.

His blade moved once, and it was over before the room understood what had happened. Peek Zannon collapsed, the light extinguishing as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind heat, smoke, and a body that should not have been there.

Ace was already turning away. Panic hit in waves behind him. Someone screamed. Someone fired a blaster wildly, bolts scorching durasteel instead of flesh. Another bolted for the door, colliding with someone else in their rush to escape. Orders were shouted only to be contradicted immediately by other voices. No one knew who was in charge anymore.

Ace didn't engage. He was gone before they could decide whether to fight, flee, or blame each other. Up the stairs, through the corridor, and into the artery of Nar Shaddaa's endless noise.

Behind him, the mess took shape. Stories would fracture instantly.
A Jedi.
A rival gang.
Black Sun sending a message.
The Hutts testing loyalty.

He kept moving, steps measured, breath steady, letting the city carry him forward before anything could settle. As long as he stayed in motion, the weight couldn't catch up. As long as he didn't stop, it stayed procedural. Necessary.

Later, he told himself again. For now, the job was done.

Ace stepped into Xom's and let the noise take him. He spotted Arris without effort. Same posture. Same ease. Like Nar Shaddaa bent around her instead of the other way around. He stopped at her side, just close enough to be heard over the din.

"It's done." He said.

Arris Windrun​