Secrets, Please

[Darth Veles]

The planet of Ord Mantell was one big junkyard, yet it still managed to be lightyears ahead of complete backwater holes such as Tatooine or Nar Shaddaa. With the One Sith knocking on the door from one side and the Republic in sight on the other, the planet’s seen a great increase in activity; spies and agents hunted one another or exchanged secret information worthy millions of credits to all sides, words more valuable than jewellery. It was a dangerous game and many have paid the ultimate price for participating, even if unwillingly. With no clear rules, everyone was a target, a potential threat that had to be eliminated before they did the same. Most of these activities took place after dusk, in alleys leading nowhere, streets rarely treaded by security forces. The only reminder after dawn was a missing person nobody missed, an unidentifiable corpse damaged beyond recognition, a tragic accident that was no accident at all or bloody remnants of simple ambush committed by a group of thugs with very sharp knives and loaded blasters. This very night promised another such incident to happen, the moon itself watched the dark streets in curiosity to see tonight’s schedule.

An attractive woman with long blonde hair and noticeable, yet fitting white dress that appeared completely out of place silently stood by a flickering light illuminating her features and revealing deep, emerald eyes and full lips coloured crimson. This forgotten corner of the city saw no other sentient being in sight, only small vermin scattering around made her company. She cared little for the beasts, expression cold and focused as if waiting for someone to arrive any moment. A random passer-by would have guessed a speeder to take her home, something of the sort, others might have thought her to be a suspicious individual. Which, in truth, she was. An agent of the Republic, one of the fresher ones. Codename Mrs. Green.

Quite fitting; she had already failed in her mission and her corpse lied rotting at the bottom of a nearby sewer, never to be seen by anyone for at least ten years. Whatever people would have thought about what stood on the street, nobody would have guessed a Mon Calamari Sith Assassin utilizing illusions to make himself appear as his eliminated target.

Darth Veles did not know who else to expect; he only knew the signal for another agent to recognize her. His webbed claws – or what appeared to be the woman’s fingers – drummed a sad tune into the lamp pole, just loud enough for everyone in the nearest vicinity to hear. What should follow was a short transaction when one agent exchanged a piece of data for another – again, Avreet did not know what to expect to receive, but he did know Mrs. Green’s data’s been destroyed by his own hand, valuable information concerning the One Sith’s fleets replaced by lies and misleading information that offered not a single grain of truth.

As always, the Sith's signature and presence have been warped and twisted to do his bidding, making him appear as another boring non-Force user in the Force. The risk of running into a Jedi was high and the Mon Cal knew he wasn't the only one skilled in the rare arts of stealth and infiltration. Scanning his surroundings for invisible threats, the cybernetic eye swivelled around in its search for those capable of seemingly disappearing. In a way, the Mon Cal was completely invisible too, this projection of a young woman taking his space, patiently waiting for the second agent's arrival.

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

Tacitanya had not much to do with official Republic business--or even off-the-books Republic business. She honestly might have even done an illegal deed here-or-there that could easily have removed her from such favor. But, then again, this was not a Republic world, and even the Republic was rumored to have stuck its own righteous hand into the cookie jar with questionable practice.

The short tyrian twi'lek was not on Ord Mantell out of any sense of national duty, but out of a sense of personal duty. She believed in justice, as Asemir--and life in general--had educated her. She knew she could not save them all, as grim as that may sound. But it was the reality all of the 'light side' must face but not allow to inhibit their roles in the galaxy. Whatever derision 'do-gooders' might face, her mission was to dispense justice and save as many as possible. Even if she could not rescue them all, the rescue of one was enough to justify her existence.

Unfortunately, she found out she was too late to spare this woman her violent demise. Taci had seen a body before--several, in fact--having grown up on Nar Shaddaa's infamous lower streets, but no corpse was kind upon a conscience like hers. She was too late, and the scene of this disfigured body in its undignified resting place was no less disheartening to her mostly timid soul. She would have to call it in and report her finding to the local authorities.

Clambering out of the drainage area, Taci sought a more open path to the police station, knowing that even a gifted being such as herself was not invincible to bullet or bolt. She was flesh-and-blood, just like nearly everyone else. Back alleys were scary no matter who you were.

But apparently frightening trails were not exclusive to the backstreets, as she had just come to find out. Shivering in a strange, evanescent, cold draft that emanated from the vicinity of a lamppost, the twi'lek turned to find, much to her shock, an apparition of the very woman she had just discovered up the creek.

She had been told not to allow fear precedence in any event, but she was flesh-and-blood, just like nearly everyone else. "You're a dream, is all," she spoke, though she hardly believed her own words. The sound from the dead woman's tapping fingers was as haunting as the cold the returned to wash over her again. "Who are you?"

[member="Darth Veles"]

 

[Darth Veles]

Tap… tap… tap!

The melancholic taps continued to fill the lamp’s surroundings, almost like heavy drops of rain impacting metal. At first it appeared the female’s voice completely avoided the ghostly woman, as the agent patiently continued to play the charade of secret signals and codenames. The Mon Cal wearing his victim’s skin did not ignore the disturbance though; his eye swivelled around to take a peek at the small Twi’lek, her unimposing height betraying the overall posture and making the pink skinned woman look harmless, almost like a child, someone hardly worthy of attention. The clothing commonly found among lower classes adorned her body, further making the Twi’lek appear invisible in a way, hard to notice.

That, on the other hand, seemed to be a good trait to have when one worked in this dangerous world of assassination and deceit. The possibility of this sentient being the Republic agent was there – the fact she had addressed the tune’s perpetrator again in a very un-agent-like manner said otherwise. Something had to have gone wrong, but what? Justly proud of his mastery over the arts of bending light, Avreet felt certain his illusion had perfectly copied both the woman’s appearance and posture, just as he had memorized the exact signal.

The sound of claws drumming on the pole abruptly stopped, the pale woman’s head sharply turning to face the Twi’lek, a dark smile that turned blood to ice greeting the pink-skinned woman. Without any confirmation whether this was the Republic agent he waited for or not, Veles stayed his hand, preferring to avoid unnecessary violence due to the possibility of this woman being nothing but an innocent civilian – in which case he needed to get her out of the place, somewhere far away to prevent her from becoming an unfortunate witness. The Sith Lord despised pointless loss of life; unless it came to his enemies. This young woman definitely did not have to die though, thus the invisible Mon Cal parted with the apparition, soundlessly getting past the Twi’lek and positioning himself several metres behind her, ready to act should it be necessary.

The illusion did not remain motionless – the haunting smile vanished from her lips as words left her mouth, all spoken in the voice of one Kana Truden, a Jedi he had impersonated many times before.

“Excuse me, but I really don’t feel like talking right now… not to a random stranger that approaches me in the middle of night on a dark street in a city filled with thugs. I am sure you understand.”

The sooner the pink woman was gone, the better.

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

There were those times when one was able to recognize that something was just not right; not the way things are supposed to be. There was a natural order to how events, behaviors, and physical objects collided, andsomething was terribly, terribly out-of-place with this woman. That smile--so much of the chill she felt seemed to emanate from it. The nonphysical wind pierced through her skin and muscle and pricked even her young bones, and the light to her lavender eyes abated for a moment like a candle whose flame had been extinguished.

She slowly tucked her hand underneath the folds of her coat and eased her fingers so slowly about the grip of her pistol. Before grabbing it completely, however, the short tyrian pulled her hand back and instead moved it towards her lightsaber hilt dangling from her belt. Nothing was good about this situation. Something was horribly wrong in everything about this woman, and the Force was warning the twi'lek to exercise all caution.

The woman now spoke, clearly intending to ward Tacitanya off. And while the bounty hunter's apprentice normally would love to give someone their privacy, there was an unmistakably caustic atmosphere enveloping her and setting off nearly every mental alarm. Her lekku wriggled nervously, and Taci began to strafe with creeping steps to the side--but neither increasing nor decreasing the distance between herself and the stranger. "You make me feel cold, and you should not be here." Then she asked the question of the hour: "Why are you not dead?"

[member="Darth Veles"]

 

[Darth Veles]

Without any shame, the amphibian started to walk around the pink Twi’lek, his invisible eyes watching the woman’s movement when it appeared she had reached for something hidden underneath her coat. Even in this very moment, he continued to act and think like a predator, a hunter observing his chosen prey and deciding whether it was worth consuming or not. Other “Sith” would have attacked the Twi’lek immediately after spotting the familiar cylinder-shaped object on her hip, hanging there limply as some sort of a toy. Unlike most Sith, the amphibious assassin saw a potential asset, an ally where others spotted nothing but an enemy, too blind to see past the most primitive urges to destroy and main their victims. Avreet might have been a ruthless assassin – the savage beast natural to all sentient beings remained firmly under his control though, combining this purposeful ruthlessness with restraint and cunning, commanding the passion burning within his heart in order to utilize it as a weapon of the Dark Side.

As such, no attack came towards the Twi’lek, whom the Sith Assassin assumed to be a Jedi or one of their agents. She might not have been a civilian, yet still, there was no need for her to join Mrs. Green in the sewers. True Sith never killed without purpose. Avreet’s lips went thin, his mind focusing on feeling the woman’s signature in the Force without giving himself away. A very delicate task requiring certain levels of both focus and skills. For a powerful and experienced Sith Lord like Darth Veles, the task posed little challenge, and as he gently and carefully delved deeper into the currents of the Force, the Twi’lek’s presence gained both shape and colour, surrounding her body as a thin veil of truth, positively marking her as a Force sensitive, the lightsaber further indicating her to be a trained Force user. This information, while useful, still revealed very little about her purpose in this specific place, talking to an illusion who seemingly continued to drum with her delicate fingers.

It was after the questions have been asked that another being appeared, clothed unlike the pink-skinned female. His appearance resembled that of a well-dressed gentleman with dirty blonde hair, the dark suit adorning his features making him hard to spot as shadows cloaked him, even in the dim light of the lamp as he appeared on the other end of the street, casually strolling towards the woman in white. She blessed him with a smile as well, her expression greeting him like an old friend or lover. A perfect couple. Something about the situation was off though, something in the Force…

Everyone had their own agenda in the world of spies and agents. Each organisation had their traitors and double agents as well, hired killers and thugs. Instead of seeing the deal as it should have ended, with the two beautiful people exchanging secret information and parting ways, Avreet witnessed two flashes cutting through his projection, red bolts whizzing in the air and continuing their way straight at the pink Twi’lek who happened to stand in their unforgiving trajectory. For the master assassin and illusionist, the scene served as a proof of his mastery over bending light and shadow – the illusion had looked lifelike enough to fool the agent. Unfortunately… the Sith Lord had not anticipated this kind of reaction. Like any good Sith, Avreet knew how to adapt, the very core of their ways teaching him a good player could win even when given bad cards.

Whatever happened next was very fast-paced, yet to the Sith it seemed like an eternity. His reflexes pushed beyond natural limits thanks to the Force and cybernetic augmentations, honed by years of experience and brutal training gave Avreet an edge, enough time to act. The ghostly projection vanished in the same moment the Mon Cal Sith appeared, his form suddenly materializing behind the Twi’lek, right hand pulling out a heavy blaster pistol.

“Get down!” an Imperial-accented voice ordered firmly, offering no room for a debate as an invisible hand pushed the woman aside with unnatural strength, getting her out of the way of incoming blaster bolts nearing their position with no intention of slowing down. Both shots struck their unintended target, twice the Sith Lord flinched just as his hand pointed the gun in the agent’s direction, targeting him almost automatically, just as he pressed the trigger and released two sharp barks through the night’s silence in retaliation. Both men remained standing for a bit, looking at each other, then the well-dressed one collapsed to the cold ground, never to get up again. Avreet appeared to completely ignore the two smoking holes in the thin layer of clothing that covered his chest; he was more concerned about the Twi’lek.

Holstering the weapon, making sure not a glimpse of his lightsabers escaped from under the heavy cloak, the amphibian rushed to the woman.

“Are you alright, my lady? Are you injured or in need of any help?” he swiftly questioned, this tone being the exact opposite of the commanding one he had used before; this one showed gentleness and care.

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

Taci's lips thinned as she observed the arrival of a man with undefinable features, his shadowy attire doing its best to keep from separating with the night's darkness that lapped at the edges of the lamplight's projected halo. He captured the 'undead' woman's attention, and Taci actually felt a bit of annoyance at the distraction. She had asked the creepy lady a question that really felt like a super important one, considering the situation and whose body appeared to be lying in the ditch just a hundred meters or so down the road. Who was this man? Was he a ghost too?

It really awakened deep thoughts within her. The thinness of her lips increased as she watched the show play out--not anything like she expected. Were they truly lovers? Poor guy if he was her partner. With a smile like the one she had just offered Taci, waking up in bed must be a nightmare.

But it would seem to not be the case. Her heartrate increased when she saw the man dip his head and close in on the woman, mouths and ears on a level plane to hear and tell secrets. Something was amiss. Nothing felt good about this moment. Taci had just walked into something beyond her comprehension, and the true meaning behind all of this only could get worse from what she was imagining. And--even for an arguably naive one--Taci had quite an imagination.

Her deep thoughts were interrupted and eyes were widened like a doe's by the simple, wailing cry of a blaster pistol as the dark man punched multiple shots into--or magically through--the pale woman's chest. Perhaps Taci could work on some reflex training, because her lekku were nearly sliced off by the red flashes that encroached on the nighttime cover. Thankfully she was rather short and did not have far to fall to escape the sizzling needles, but it was rather handy that someone else was apparently on the prowl tonight and had the quick wit to take over this scene and give her a friendly sort of shove, however painful it may have been on ground contact. Prayers could be said later, for she was still alive.

But someone had died. The guns did not silence for nothing, and the man left standing was the unseen saint who had saved her from a pretty lame ending. Today was an off-day--she swore! "Oh, snaff," she uttered, pushing herself back up from the pavement and whirling around to come to face with the newcomer. "Oh snaff oh snaff oh snaff oh snaff. What did I just see?" A man was dead. The wraith was gone. It seemed like Ord Mantell was probably not a great vacation spot.

Not to mention: everything she thought she could be fairly certain of between physics and the Force had just been shattered.

Injured? No. Help? Well, if he had any light to shed here, that would be well-appreciated. "Hold on! Stand back!" the twi'lek shouted, gesturing in a shoving motion while backing up slightly. "Are you dead, ever been dead, or are you going to die sometime tonight?"

[member="Darth Veles"]

 

[Darth Veles]

No jumping back on her feet, lightsaber ignited and ready to start arresting? No stone-cold face revealing no emotions? Only shock? Panic, even? Not the reaction the Mon Cal expected to see; most Force users remained unmoved by danger and deaths such as this, possibly because of the war’s hardening effect on one’s soul. This suggested the young Twi’lek had not been through the rigid and unforgiving Jedi or Sith training, lacking their indifference and ruthlessness. Names of many orders and cults made out of Force sensitives raced through the amphibious assassin’s mind, analysing the various possibilities of encountering one of their members on the planet, any piece of information stored within that large head of his that could give him an edge, let a bit of insight shine some light on the Twi’lek’s purpose here. It became another game filled with secrets; Avreet’s inquisitive mind wanted to find out the truth about this unexpected witness, who would undoubtedly try to discover as much as possible about the mysterious man who had appeared out of nowhere just as the mysterious woman vanished into thin air.

With an abrupt halt as if hearing an order and not a pink woman’s plea, the Mon Cal stopped in tracks and took a step back, big eyes locking gaze with the woman. The flow of strange questions coming his way was nothing short of confusing, he had to calm her down before prying her mind open with questions of his own.

“I…,” the Sith started softly and stopped just as quickly before letting out more words. Adrenaline still rushed through his veins and no suitable reply formed on his tongue.

Silence.

Heavy, pained breathing coming from neither could be heard if enough attention’s been given to their surroundings. Then there was the dying man’s last, raspy breath leaving his body, the terrible sound announcing his passing. Eerie silence immediately fell upon the two survivors silently staring at each other, the entire street suddenly calm and peaceful again, no more sad tune being drummed on the lamp, no more shots, no more dying. Peace and death mixed together, both aspects of the Force intermingling without overpowering its opposite. This worked fairly well for Avreet, who had decided to use his inner calmness and self-control to project the very same feelings into the woman – as well as drawing the peaceful sensation and turning it into a conductor of the Light Side. Searing pain continued to burn in his chest, adding more challenge into the task.

The Sith Lord rarely sported any kind of armour and this night was no exception; he had barely managed to save his life by partially absorbing the blaster boltsy accepting as much energy as he could into his body. Only those who had mastered Tutaminis knew how to fully shield their body and turn the harmful energy into power - Avreet wasn’t one of them. His injury needed to be treated, but there’d be time for that. For now, the Sith Lord stood firmly, giving away no weakness as if both shots had impacted some armour plating hidden underneath his clothes. And while the natural regeneration of his body worked on the injuries, accelerated by the Light Side and Veles’ knowledge of Jedi healing arts, the Mon Cal offered the Twi’lek a warm smile, finally speaking up.

“No, yes, and no, hopefully not, my lady,” he stated as an answer to her questions, perhaps more dryly than he had intended, turning his attention to the downed man as he marched towards the body.

“I am sorry for what you had to see,” the Sith said as he turned the body on the back and gave it a brief search through pockets. The dead man’s eyes stared right at [member="Tacitanya"]! Lifeless, empty, dead.

“But it is alright now. You’re alive, uninjured, in no danger.” The Sith Lord reassured when his amber gaze spots something in the man’s coat. A small, thin object in one of the pockets. Without saying any word, Avreet claims it and offers the object a brief inspection before stashing the datacard under his cloak and finally paying the Twi’lek more attention. Another smile, the charming one he had mastered long time ago.

“Would you like me to accompany you to a hospital? Or anywhere else where you’d be more comfortable?”

 

[Beowoof]

She shivered as the final sound of death emanated from the windpipe of the downed shooter, the streets silent; everyone gone but the two of them now. Who was a killer, who was a traitor, and who was a more-or-less righteous party in this strange and rather horrifying ordeal was still undecided in Taci's mind, though the gentle utterances of the man facing her now put her slightly at ease. But she was not one to let her guard down so easily. Her youth had been rough-and-tumble in many ways, and she had learned not to trust people without good reason. And so she would not draw her lightsaber--not yet, anyway--but the thought of it remained active in the back of her mind.

And if she had just heard him correctly, there was another factor to consider that basically made the circumstances all the more uncomfortable and downright disturbing. She recounted her words and paired them in the order of his own. Could her mind be playing tricks on her in this uncanny moment? Are you dead? No. Ever been dead? Yes.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" Taci interjected, raising her hands and twitching her lekku. "No need to apologize to me. I'm fine--for now. But rewind that." She squinted her eyes, marking the scorch marks in the Mon Calamari's chest acquired from the wrong end of the now-dead man's gun. There was indeed something incredibly suspicious about him. She could feel his pain, yet he did not outwardly show it. Had he known he would have this shootout with the spy? Why else should he know to wear armor underneath his suit?

"You're not dead. But you have--at some point in time--been dead? Very, very, very dead?" Was he trying to play some sort of cruel joke on her?

Oh, snaff. She had heard about genetically engineered doubles before. And while she could not say that she had ever seen or met one before, the idea had been tossed around enough around her ears to warrant at least a question. Perhaps it was a stupid things to ask, but what could he do? Make fun of her? If that was the worst he did, then she supposed everything was fine at this point in this crazy night. "Are you a clone?"

[member="Darth Veles"]

 

[Darth Veles]

Many would have been too shocked to think clearly, too numb to understand what the Mon Cal said, yet that was not the case of this Force sensitive Twi’lek. Whether thanks to her training or some sort of natural ability to keep calm, she had managed to turn the situation around and after a very brief confirmation on her well-being, the pink skinned woman became the one asking the question, whereas Avreet suddenly found himself expected to provide her with answers. She was quite inquisitive, able to pick that ‘little’ detail in his words. Maybe he should have answered differently; then again, Darth Veles was an honest soul and saw no reason to lie to this being unfortunate enough to witness what had transpired before their eyes. The blank stare offered to her revealed nothing – perhaps not even the Mon Cal knew what to say. The blurry memories of the Void refused to sharpen and become more than silhouettes and static images. The Sith Lord did not fully understand the matter himself, but he knew he had died, only to come back, returning from the Void itself.

His large eyes blinked and darted to the side, whether to escape her gaze or to check on their surroundings while the Light Side of the Force rapidly accelerated the natural healing process of his body. Unfortunately for the Sith, he was not a healer nor a devout follower of the Light Side. Despite his wish to master the control over the Force as a whole, utilize the full power of the Light and Dark combined, Avreet simply lacked the strong connection to the Light Side common amongst Jedi and others following this aspect of the Force. As such, he had little intention to just stand in the dark street with a dead body so close in proximity. Just like this woman, another random civilian could pass by any minute and call the security. The Sith Assassin definitely did not want that. A clean place to offer him enough time and privacy to recover before he pulled off another disappearing act was required.

“Oh, no, my lady, I am definitely not a clone,” stated the Sith Lord as a fresh wave of pain tore its way from his chest, “Uh, oh.” Crimson made an appearance, several small drops pouring out of the wounds and rolling over the clothes before soaking into the Sith’s apparel. Instinctively, his right hand moved to the chest. Deep inhale and exhale calmed his mind a bit, allowing for more concentration required for the Light Side to bend to his will.

“As much as I’d love to tell my story to someone as charming as you, this is not the place or time suitable for a lovely chat we’d surely have.”

The amber gaze paid attention to the young female once more, calmness mixed with disguised urgency. His left arm vanished under the cloak, where it remained hidden beneath the heavy dark cloth, ready to raise a weapon in defence if necessary. As unlikely as it was, the possibility of the woman giving an attempt of arresting him a try remained.

“Please, do you know of a discreet location where one could stay for a bit? I’d rather avoid the questions regarding the nature of my injuries if you know what I mean.”

His ship possessed that elegant and sharp Sith design – and therefore it stayed hidden in a faraway place instead of sitting on one of the many landing pads of the spaceport. Chasing after the vessel was out of option for now, at least until he treated the pot holes burned into his flesh.

"And please, call me Avreet," the Sith offered his hand, only to retract it immediately after noticing the blood on it. Awkward.

[member="Tacitanya"]