The Nightmare in The Depths

[The Amalgam]

Opening theme: Fur Elise, by Beethoven

Spoiler

https://youtu.be/Lkcvrxj0eLY

Arriving in: Corrupted Flesh (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/137631-the-corrupted-flesh-x-70b-phantom-class-yacht/)

Wearing: Resistance Epidermis (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/137623-resistance-epidermis/)

Armed with: Skin Razors (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/137389-skin-razors/


The Amalgam set her slice of vanilla cake down on the elegant, pearlescent table in the mess area of her quarters. It was a beautiful room, black, with elaborate red floral patterns on the floor and walls. The bed was large, its quilts and sheets and very construction the epitome of quality.

But that was hidden. The reason for this was the photos.

Her obsession, her nemesis. Her...daughter.

The vile creature dared not say that word out loud. It stank of sentiment. Exposed a weakness in her that she didn't know how to address yet.

She was supposed to guide her successor, her heir, dispassionately. There could be no room for sentiment in drawing her to the Dark Side. Sentiment was what had gotten Darth Vader killed. The Amalgam had no intention of repeating his mistake.

Her memory, especially including her...'slumber' was especially spotty. There were usually a few holes after using the False Persona Technique. It was a safety feature...a Dark Adept not remembering all the 'good' deeds they had commited while believing they were a Jedi made turning back into what they really were much easier when deciding to viciously betray and kill those who had trusted them after waking. The Amalgam had done this six times before, self brainwashing into believing herself to be a Light Adept (With a False Light Side Aura and often completely different personality to boot) and infiltrating specialized Jedi affiliated groups, corrupting them and then eventually killing all her 'comrades' in hilariously gory fashion once she emerged.

But it had been different, infiltrating The Marksmen.

The other groups, even the fabled Resistors of Darkness, were all fairly easy to predict. Guardians, Sentinels, Consulars, whatever their groups operational eccentricities, they all had a fairly dogmatic take on the nature of the Force and how they should conduct themselves and each other (Though the Resistors had hints of being on the way to becoming true wildcards, what with creating that pyrokinetic entity that even her own master feared)

But the Marksmen were different. The Marksmen had been shadows.

Shadows skiet closer to the darkness than any other form of Jedi. They are used to ugly, morally gray areas, and are more than willing, she had found in her experience to fight dirty. Of all the kinds of Jedi who gave her the most trouble, it was Guardians and Shadows who tied at first place. Guardians because a properly trained one was extremely hard to stop, Shadows for just being the sneaky type, and killing you before you could react. (Had it not been for knowing how to transfer her essence to other Shi'ido, The Amalgam would have met her end this way five times over at a Shadow's hands.)

A shadow can be the most easily corrupted for the ruthless, this-or-that attitude some had, but because so many walked that fine edge, they had also proven to be some of the most difficult to corrupt in her long career. Many, especially as of late, were also far more comfortable with a fast and loose interpretation of what being a Jedi meant than most. Perhaps that had been the problem. Perhaps her selected persona had become far more in touch with weak emotions as a false marksman than she had had a chance to with any of the other groups.

And that process had made her regard Uri Udinia, most accurate of The Marksmen, as her successor.

The Shi'ido did not understand the tearing feeling in her as she stared at the photos of Uri she had plastered on every surface of the room. Whatever had happened with the Marksmen had caused her to get...attached.

The Amalgam stared at her successor. On the surface, they were not that similar beyond their respective ruthlessness and penchant for classic ships...she was also now disgustingly weak at the Force, unlike the Shi'ido.

What had Uri done that had caused the Shi'ido to feel this tearing feeling, this deep conceit that it must be Uri and no one else to be her real successor?

The wet green eyes of the Jedi Shadow stared from within, causing her to shudder. The eyes. When they looked at you...it was with utter sincerity. The stare could make one...doubt themselves.

What had Uri done to make her a daughter in the Amalgam's eyes?

Unable to finish eating her cake, the shapeshifter suddenly realized she was breathing very hard and was shocked at herself as she dropped to the floor, heaving in air.

An anxiety attack. She was having an anxiety attack. An unforgivable lapse in weakness.

Common sense told her to let go of this notion of Uri as a daughter. It was causing nothing but problems. It made the Amalgam weak. Made her vulnerable. And there was still the matter of what exactly, caused the Amalgam to be so furious with her even now. What had the Shi'ido forgotten?

The petite, currently human looking curvy woman pulled herself off the floor, managing to stop the panic attack. She focused on her dedication to the Bogan, to the Darkness, and for the moment it tore her away from these unfamiliar notions she had been trained to hate.

It tore her away from how small and empty this all seemed suddenly.

A beep from the ship computer made her spring towards her personal terminal. She composed herself and read the mission briefing and smiled.

A mission. And an interesting one. One that would keep her mind off Uri, and how angry the Amalgam was, not just because she was weak, but because of this horrid tearing feeling she caused.

And apparantly she was being paired with someone. They were to link up at a prearranged spot on Barbatos close to its wondrous, sacred mountain.

Someone needed to die. Someone WOULD die. Once they had both arrived, an imperial agent would disclose full details on their target. Apparantly this was a briefing that needed to be handled in person...

Quickly switching out of her plain civilian clothes, and into her off white combat suit, the Amalgam suppressed the gaze that stared from within, haunting her sleep and driving her even more insane than she already was.

That was what truly linked them perhaps. A deep abiding madness that raged in both of them.

Hesitantly, she knew she needed something out of the ordinary. Both for Barbatos, and to reaffirm her teachings. The Amalgam went to a metal locker, took a breath and opened it, staring.

It had been a long time since she had stared at it. Its purple-white finish. Its ringed construction.

The Skin Razors. Her master's weapon. Difficult to conceal, but very deadly. The raw aggression required to use it properly would leave her at a disadvantage, but her power over the darkness would help compensate for any deficiencies. Her strength at Force Lightning had increased, so that alone would help mitigate some of the disadvantages she would be at. But not all of them.

She stared at the ringed hilt, the track had been her Master's undoing in the end. It had taken a while to restore it to flawless condition. She felt it radiate with the remnants of her master. How she had hated The Congregation. How she had eventually become her, to a degree.

It was the Congregation that had found her, enslaved her, trained her, made her who she was today. She loathed the dead woman. Loathed the hag as much as Uri probably loathed The Amalgam by this point.

But still, she got all her wisdom from her...

The Amalgam got into a lotus position on her bed and meditated...


Later on...


Barbatos.

Just entering the atmosphere had sent a surge of power through the Shi'ido's flesh. Oh, yes...focusing on the darkness would be much easier here...much easier...pleasurable, even...

It was a pre-arranged clearing close to the tallest mountain, away from monitors. Her stealth drive had been engaged since entering the system.

She looked over the profile of who she was working with. An Anzat named [member="Hastur Creed"]. Not too much on him, but he had come highly reccomended, apparantly their target was also an Anzat...

The white ship with red trim settled on the patch of bare desert surrounded by more rock, a desert path leading to the natural basin for anyone else coming here. The Amalgam composed herself, drawing on the power of the dark, and the petite, curvy woman of currently striking beauty and dead purple eyes strode off the ship to await her respective contact and the full briefing by the agent who would likely reveal themselves after both were present...

 

[Yuri Ouroboros]

Barbatos.

Creed had heard of this planet sparingly in his nearly three centuries of existence. The name always carried a somewhat vague connotation of an unplaced negativity. For a fairly populated planet, Barbatos had a reputation bordering on the mythical; a shadow lying on the very edge of the periphery and understanding of the rest of the galaxy. Thus, it was hard to pinpoint concrete details about the shadowy planet and the assassination which would take place on its surface. All he had was coordinates and yet he had accepted the assignment all the same.

It was reckless, and Creed knew it.

In the last couple of months, a pervasive restlessness had plagued the young Anzati hitman. His experience on Serenno had made him question everything that he had once taken as truth. Decades as a hitman, growing complacent on the easy pickings of lesser beings, had made Creed grow comfortable in his own bestial existence. However Serenno ripped the rug out from under Creed and sent him spiraling into an existential crisis. Self-reflection of his predatory existence, once an integral and unquestioned part of his life, now makes his mouth taste of ash. Was this it? Was this the isolated, bestiary path that he was doomed to follow down into oblivion? To mindlessly feed until his desire for soup gradually overtakes his own capacity to acquire it? These very questions had haunted Creed for the past year, following him like a shadow. No matter where the hunger had taken him, he could not escape himself nor the horrors of Serenno.

And thus, Creed was adrift. At the very darkest of times, he found himself staring into the barrel of his own blaster pistol, or seconds away from launching himself into the closest star. Yet he could never pull the trigger nor punch in the final coordinates to end his pointless existence no matter how much he wanted to. Suicide was simply against the nature of the Anzati, his hunger for soup had pulled him back from the edge of nothingness for his every attempt to jump into that unending void.

Restlessness had greeted him after the last of his failed attempts at suicide. Creed was done running, he was now searching. If he could not end his own existence, then he had to find a way out somehow, whether that be his death at the hands of a greater foe, or a path around his cursed hunger. He did not care which he would eventually find, salvation or damnation, he only knew with every fiber in his being that he must find something. In a somewhat suicidal effort to change the cards that destiny had dealt him or to end the game entirely, Creed started taking unnecessary risks and larger opponents in the past few months with his most current assignment on Barbatos being the most recent of examples.

Creed's self reflective meditation was broken as his Baudo-class star yacht emerged from hyperspace into the orbit of Barbatos. He quickly left his small but elegant personal chamber and swiftly lowered himself into the pilot's chair of the cockpit, disengaging the auto pilot and resuming full control of the space craft. His navacomputer guided him to the rocky surface with the coordinates provided by his employer. As Creed cruised his ship into the planet's atmosphere, a sense of nervous excitement suddenly washed over the Anzati hitman. His instincts whispered to him fervently that something awaited him on Barbatos, his very being was suddenly drawn to the planet's surface, hopefully it will be the something that he had been searching for all along. A way out.

His yacht descended from the heavens to the desert location provided from his employer. However, to his surprise, another craft was already present at the landing site. Was this his contact? Or perhaps a partner? If the latter were true, it would be unusual as Creed seldom worked with others. Yet the prospect of team work did not trouble Creed like it should've. No, instead he felt an exhilarating motivation that he had not felt in a very long time, almost as if the planet itself was fueling him...

Landing gear was lowered and the yacht gently touched the ground right beside the stranger's starcraft. The exit ramp unlocked and slowly lowered to the rocky ground with an hydraulic hiss. Hastur Creed descended the ramp, clad in a simple yet sleek black tunic and trousers. Two blaster pistols were discretely holstered on his hips. As his shoes touched the dusty surface, he looked around, spotting [member="The Amalgam"]. He approached the Amalgam slowly, taking note of her peculiar life essence and unapologetically eyeing her curvy figure. He was still unsure of the role that the stranger would play in this story. As he finally approached the woman, Creed took a deep sweeping bow. However he never took his sulfuric eyes off of her's.

"Creed. Hastur Creed."

 

[The Amalgam]

The Amalgam stared, feeling the shiver of power in the luxury yacht, eyeing the handsome man in black as he stepped off. Clearly checking her out.

Hello, handsome, she thought to herself. She exclusively preferred men, but the nature of her work rarely gave her an opportunity to indulge such a vice. That and it'd have to be one hell of a man to tempt the vile creature hiding behind a pretty face.

He'd look dashing in a mask... she mused smiling a little at him as she just as freely checked him out. Or killing some yuppie scum, perhaps...

But that wasn't what caught her attention as he walked over to her, and took a bow, introducing himself. What caught her attention was the presence of the Force, the darkness in his eyes. He had the potential. He was strong...

...he could be trained...

The Amalgam nodded graciously. The Bogan had sent her a wayward soul who needed to be properly introduced to its gifts.

"Amalgam...uh...'The' Amalgam..." she said crisply after a moment, making a joke with her own sobriquet.

(Clip of Bond Theme plays)

The Amalgam examined him. "You came highly recommended, Mister Creed. I look forward to seeing what all the fuss was over. And as for our contact..."

The imperial intelligence officer, a blond human woman with pale skin wearing civilian clothing, finally shut down her cloaking device and stepped forward.

"There she is..." the Amalgam noted, nodding to the officer. "So, why have we been dragged to this holy sanctum of darkness?"

The officer wasted no time, handing them both files and layouts of where they were headed.

"An underground colony devoted to veneration of the Sith..." she noted, intrigued already. Her black little heart swelled at the idea of ordinary people trying to commune with the Bogan. They deserved to be able to practice such a faith.

"Three months ago, we got word from an insider that the colony was digging to the center of this great mountain we are under. They breached a tunnel network and...freed something..." the officer explained. The network was sealed and the colony itself isn't isolationist...its maintained regular contact with the empire, so its not like we were unaware of what was going on. It has an immigration system set up for new citizens and everything...but we are positive the threat we want you to eliminate came from within the network they found."

"How come? If our target is an Anzat couldn't they have come from the outside? How would it have sustained itself without soup trapped so long?"

"Equipment recovered suggests cryonic preservation...and incomplete schematics of some kind of cybernetics system."

The Amalgam perked in interest. "What kind of cybernetics? And why would an Anzat need it? They heal damn near anything. And quickly, too."

The Amalgam knew this from personal experience. She'd nearly died fighting one about a hundred years prior. It had required overwhelming damage to finally kill. She'd been shot four times in the process.

"Schematics hint at something to do with the cranial. Something related to its feeding process. Its been killing frequently. Machine parts are going missing in the colony."

"Don't they have medical scanners?" The Amalgam asked. "Surely the first scans would give it away..."

"Its apparantly found some way around that. No one they scanned has been outed. And the murders continue." The officer answered. "Your mission is this: Track down and eliminate this Anzat by any means necessary, and breach the tunnel network to recover any items of interest. It is strongly advised you track the Anzat down as soon as you can: the situation has degenerated. Paranoia is rampant among the colony. They'll be suspicious of new comers. Even ones sent by the Sith. Do this, and you shall both be richly rewarded by the Empire for your efforts, especially if what you uncover offers the empire a net advantage. Everything you need is in those files, the victims, where they were found, everything. We're hoping as an Anzat himself, Mister Creed may be able to offer some insight into the Anzat's patterns and devise a strategem to draw the Anzat out, with The Amalgam providing the necessary support to eliminate should it the target prove able to use the Force...as well as having a representative of the Empire to restore order among the populace..." the officer trailed before turning to leave. "Good luck, and may the might of the Sith guide you to success..."

The officer turned on her cloaking field, walking off into the shadows.

"That's not normal..." the Amalgam remarked to [member="Hastur Creed"] as she examined the files. "There's something we aren't being told...they would not have kept it so hush-hush otherwise...what do you make of this Anzat, Mister Creed? The crime scenes are pretty brutal. I'm seeing a loss of control over the situation. They're messy..." the Shi'ido remarked as she went through the photos.

"Not as messy as some of 'my' murders, mind you...but those were the entertaining kind of messy. This...this is just sloppy..."

 

[Yuri Ouroboros]

Creed straightened himself up and offered a small smile as [member="The Amalgam"] introduced herself. Such a peculiar name would fit such a peculiar life essence. Creed could feel her spirit and it was... odd. There was definitely more to her than meets the eye, that much the Anzat was sure of. He had not fed in a long time, nearly three weeks, as he had grown to resist his hunger for as long as he could between feedings. Like water that would dry one's mouth the more one drinks, the taste of soup would only elicit further hunger, and Creed would try has hard as he could to no longer give into his inner bestial desires. Creed sized up the figure of the Amalgam once again. He had to admit that she was tempting.

A sly grin spread across his face as his reputation apparently preceded him. "Well, Mal, I look forward to seeing you in action as well." He offered a flirtatious wink. A little banter never hurt any situation.

Suddenly he sensed another life force in their vicinity. His head snapped in that direction immediately, right before their contact had deactivated her cloak. No time was wasted as the imperial intelligence officer handed them both files and layouts concerning their mission. As the officer rattled off the details surrounding their mission, it quickly became apparent that Creed's intuition was right: he was meant to be here. The irony of this mission was almost poetic. He couldn't help but wonder if the key to escaping his hunger will lie in defeating one of his own cursed brethren, a monstrosity which reflected the very aspects that Creed despised about himself the most. Or perhaps he will find death at the hand of this Anzat, and finally submit to the inevitably of his doomed existence. Whatever the outcome may be, Creed was anxious to see it through. However, there was just one unknown variable in the mix. As the imperial intelligence officer prattled on, Creed stole a glance at his temporary partner. He wondered the role that she would play in this story. Would she lead to his damnation or his salvation? He would figure out soon enough.

Creed listened quietly and intently as Mal quizzed the intelligence officer about the nature of their unusual target. It sounded like the Anzat is seeking the same thing that he is: freedom from oneself. A way out of one's own existence. Could the Anzat have figured out a way to stave off the hunger? Is that even possible? The mission was to kill the Anzat and retrieve anything of value for the Sith Empire. But if, just if, the Anzat had discovered the salvation that Creed so desperately desired, then he may just keep whatever he finds for himself.

The imperial officer concluded her briefing and disappeared promptly, leaving the Creed and Mal to pour over the datapads that were handed to them. Clear roles were established, and Creed realized why two of them were needed for this mission. This type of blunt assassination job was not his forte, he needed time and persuasion to pull off indiscreet hits. Mal would be the more experienced fighter in this mission, the two side pieces strapped to Creed's belt were mostly for self-defense. But Creed on the other hand, knows Anzati and knows them well, a claim that very few in the galaxy can boast. He glanced at the evidence which Mal displayed to him, taking in her observations of the crime scenes.

"Loss of control over the situation", he whispered to himself while nodding his head in agreement. "The Anzati are tactful and discrete killers. Their method of killing is often hard to identify after the fact." Even in casual conversation he made lengths to separate himself from his own kind, referring to the Anzati as 'they'. Creed despised them, no doubt as a projection of the hatred he carries for himself. They are nothing more than primitive animals, and thus so is he.

He continued studying the gruesome scenes. She was right, this was not the work of a composed Anzat, this was sloppy but all too familiar. "However, when an Anzat becomes rabid, they abandon any sort of reason. They become unthinking monsters, every second of their pitiful existence is dominated by the desire for soup." Creed offered a small pause before concluding in a somber tone, "It is the ultimate fate that awaits every Anzati".

With that being said, Creed handed the datapad back to Mal and quickly picked his tone back up to its original friendly disposition, casting aside any cynical feelings he may have conveyed. He turned around to admire the awe-inspiring mountain whose shadow they stood in. "Whoever this Anzat is, he has either grown senile or has not fed in a very very long time. Either way, finding him won't be the hard part if he is still in the state of mind that I think he's in."

Creed turned back around to face Mal, clapping his hands together. "So! Its a decent walk to where we're going. Ladies first?"

 

[The Amalgam]

The Amalgam smiled a little more at the response of [member="Hastur Creed"], his wink instantly making him charming to the despicable creature. Uri's weakness was Femme Fatales. The Amalgam's weakness involved three words: Tall, Dark-prone, and Handsome. Hastur neatly ticked all three boxes.

But as he described what happens to Anzat, the Amalgam detected the subtle seperation he made between him and what they were hunting. The way his voice went a little hard when he described madness as the fate of all the Anzat, the Shi'ido knew she had found a motivation for him.

It might give her the opening she needed also to lead him to the Darkness and perfect him...

The Shi'ido knew to be a patient creature when guiding someone to the dark side. It ultimately had to be a choice made of your own free will...it couldn't be forced. But she had some insight into him already: He feared his inevitable total insanity.

Just like her...daughter...Uri. The Schizophrenia would be her end as well, unless it was properly harnessed. The Amalgam already knew herself to be insane. Nobody who kills and torments others the way she did could claim sanity in any capacity. But she knew how to control her insanity. She knew when to reign in her bloodthirst...and when to let it out.

That he was in the same bind as her daughter struck an unexpected chord in the Amalgam's shriveled and decayed spirit. It...it actually made her invested in guiding him, much more personally than she should have been.

If she could get him to embrace the power dormant in himself. The road to truly controlling that eventual madness might be possible, in case whatever work-around their mutual target had found did not pan out for him for some reason.

When he finished his assessment, that the Anzat was probably either senile or starving, the Amalgam was given pause.

"Perhaps..." she trailed. "But machinery has also gone missing. So he...or she...can't be completely far gone...they could be trying to repair the cybernetics in their system...as for the scanners...perhaps they used the Force to reprogram the electronics. Its possible, I've seen it done. Y'know..." she trailed flipping through the files. "Whoever it is...they might be faking a loss of control. Could be they want the populace good and afraid...too scared to go out of their homes...but why?" she wondered. "Still...the messiness is too genuine...and I'd rather not second-guess someone with such a cute...face..." she trailed, turning on the charm as easily as he did.

She sighed. They could worry about the details when they got there. He offered to let her lead the way and she nodded politely and did so, beginning the trek to the colony's location.

"Ah, this planet is awash in the Darkness. It was a place of the Sith in ancient times. Great wisdom is to be found, especially within this mountain..." she trailed, feeling her body electrify with its power.

"So, Mister Creed...if this Anzat has found a work around to the soup thirst...perhaps it might be salvaged...if the target could be properly interrogated before disposal. Better still if they have more complete schematics. If not...there are ways to get information out of someone..."

The Amalgam suddenly started thinking ahead. If the Anzat had a way around the thirst using cybernetics...and it could be produced wide scale...

How many more Anzat besides Hastur might ply their trade on behalf of the empire?

The Amalgam instantly understood why this was so hush hush. If this got out...what galactic power would not try to get their hands on the possible way to secure the services and loyalty of almost every Anzat?

"Can you feel it? The power this mountain offers?" she inquired idly, wondering just how unaware he was of his connection to the Force.