Dominion The Wretched Hive | Black Sun Syndicate Dominion of the Kastolar Sector

[Darth Carnifex]

Eyes shining like molten copper watched with a flicker of amusement as the unknown woman so effortlessly dispatched the guard, unloading one shotgun round into the unconscious man's back. Quite vicious, He had to admit, the faintest shadow of a smile curling at the corners of His lips as the man's blood began to slowly leak into the water. When the woman aimed her weapon at Him, His gaze never shifted or wavered in the slightest, but the distinct glower of danger now flashed across His features.

"You may refer to me as Daeva," rumbled the man's low, velvety voice. The rumbling purr of each syllable reverberated through her bones, each word carried by more than just sound. The word was ancient, carved from the annuls of galactic pre-history. It's origins had been long forgotten, but it's meaning had survived through the ages. From whatever civilization it arose, the daeva were disagreeable and contemptuous spirits of disorder.

He stood, movements precise and measured as the movement of tectonic plates. Water rushed over His bare form like a thousand waterfalls, sloshing back into the pool His body had previously displaced. Even standing in the pool, it was clear that He was over eight feet tall. Dark runic tattoos covered the front of His chest and the width of each arm, many of them evidently of Sith design.

"What do they call you, little hunter?"

CT-312 | Jacen Breska
Eira Dyn | Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective: Spa Day! Wait, we had a mission?
Tags: Eira Dyn | Jacen Breska | Darth Carnifex | CT-312 | Open for all
Loadout: Generic big floofy white towel. And fuzzy white slippers.

---

"All systems and security droids are under our command. The rest is free game. Try not to kill all the clients. Hostages are useful. Who knows, finish early and you guys can get back to… whatever you were doing."

"Please do not be alarmed. We are under new management now. Please enjoy your stay."

Sixteen hands. Sixteen hands came to an abrupt stop, causing Scherezade to let out the longest, most dramatic sigh in the galaxy. She sat up, some of the hands still hovering uncertainly mid-air, not sure if they were supposed to resume their work or leave. "Motherkrakkers," the Sithling said as she adjusted her towel.

She slid off the table in one fluid motion, and a single blade flew from her pile of clothes in the corner of the room into her left hand. Bare feet left oily prints on the polished floor as she marched out. The towel slipped loose before she even cleared the door, but she didn't bother with correcting the situation.. Let the droids… And… And… Chit, she should've paid more attention to the brief, and whoever they were fighting deal with one very naked, very angry Sithling.

Of course, there was already a squad of non-droid guards waiting only a few feet away. Heavily armored, weapons levelled, visors gleaming. Scherezade cocked her head, lips quirking in amusement. What could one simple woman with no towel and one knife possibly do in such a situation? Oh, life was so very, very hard. And the children! Think of the children!

She raised her right hand lazily, as if to wave them off. Then came her smile, sharp, cruel, and hungry. Her awareness slithered outward through the Force, brushing against the steady pulse of life inside their armoured shells. External armour might stop a bolt. It didn't stop her. Her will sank into their veins, stirring, grasping, twisting. A few of the men shifted uneasily as her emerald eyes glowed brighter, the air prickling with malevolent intent.

"That's your blood starting to warm up," she crooned, her sing-song voice carrying like a lullaby. "Turn around and run, or stay and cook in your shells. Your choice."

They didn't move.

Scherezade sighed again, almost theatrically, and clenched her outstretched hand. The shift was immediate. Their heartbeats staggered. Blood that once flowed obediently now churned like water over flame. Veins swelled against the confines of flesh and armor alike, heat spreading faster than their panicked minds could comprehend. The guards convulsed, weapons clattering to the floor, muffled cries building into ragged screams. Bubbles rose beneath the thin strips of exposed skin, crimson welts rupturing as boiling vitae sought escape.

It was not a clean death. For onlookers, it would last only moments. For her victims, it stretched into an eternity of agony, with every heartbeat a fresh betrayal from within, every vein a crucible. Their knees buckled, their armored forms collapsing in a discordant heap of steaming bodies.

Scherezade lowered her hand, green eyes gleaming with satisfaction as the last scream guttered into silence. More than enough of the bursted welts had landed blood on her flesh to offer some camouflage as to her nakedness. "See?" she said cheerfully to no one in particular, twirling her knife before striding down the corridor. "All you had to do was let me finish my massage."

She turned around, ready to head back into her room, when this time a droid, equally armored, equally ugly, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and blocking her way. This time, there was no blood for her to play with. That was all right though, she had so many other tricks up her sleeve. With the same flare of melodramatics, she moved into a fighting position, ready to-

Beep! Beep!

Her comm! She blinked, looking at it.

"That's my facial appointment!" she squealed, then looked back at the droid.

She was going to have to work fast if she wanted to make it on time… Assuming the spa staff was still alive to keep her schedule.

 

[CT-312]

//: Eira Dyn Jacen Breska Scherezade deWinter Darth Carnifex | Open //:
//: Lanupa , Kastolar Sector//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: M.I. Model 7 shotgun| LO-22S| Sunshot Pistol| M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: DROIDS: 1 x LK War-X //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective II - LANUPA RAID //:​

It was hot. The snow patrol gear snagged on the way in began to feel like lead. Sweat prickled at the base of CT-312’s neck. Steam began clinging along the outer rim of her helmet’s visor again. Annoyance from the inconveniences began to rise. The heat, weight, and now the damn visor. Still, CT-312’s focus never strayed. Icey-blue eyes behind the visor locked with the molten copper across. Something wasn’t right. The figure in front wasn’t shaken from the sound of the gunshot, nor the carnage. If anything, he seemed… entertained. That was until when her weapon was aimed at him. The Scout noticed the figure’s subtle flash of predatory menace across his face. Unsettling.

When he spoke, CT-312 physically felt it. The sound wasn't sound at all. It was the low and resonant vibrations that throbbed through her bones and armor. The spa chamber itself seemed to hum as the water in the pool shivered in rhythm. This was not normal. Whoever this was. They weren't typical civilian. It was something else entirely. ‘Daeva.’ Whatever that meant… CT-312’s instincts screamed Danger. Threat. Eliminate. Maintaining trigger discipline, her training kept her grounded and ready. Brow furrowing beneath the helmet as her grip tightened on the weapon. Dismissing whatever was going on. Names don’t stop slugs.

CT-312 kept steady eyes as the figure rose.

Water spilled from off him in sheets. The man was over eight feet against her five-five self. Tall. Freakishly tall. 'What the—' Her jaw clenched. Breathing steady through the modulator. Instead of stepping back, CT-312 pressed down harder. Squaring her stance. Shotgun braced against her shoulder. Her sights slid lower as the steam parted. Noticing the rune-like tattoos wrapped across His chest and arms were in some Sith design. Half-recognizing from past missions, but still unfamiliar. Foreign. Maybe a tattoo addict. Or maybe just a monster.

As the steam parted more, her eyes and shotgun tracked lower. Assessing the threat. Her visor stilled for a second. Big. Blinking once. ‘Oh.’ Realization. Is that—

Yep. This was definitely the men’s spa.

Snapping the muzzle back up to this Daeva’s center mass of his broad chest. Exhaling once through the modulator. Steady and even. Helmet tilting ever so slightly at the words Little Hunter. Something about it scraped CT-312 wrong. She'd been called all types of names before, but Hunter? Especially little. Was it Mockery? A low growl built in her chest. Trapped behind her filters, only she could hear. Maybe recognition? Either way, not amusing.

“Doesn’t matter what I’m called.” Tone clipped with every syllable carrying a threat. “You’re in my line of fire. Don’t move.” CT-312’s tone dropped, pronouncing his name out slowly and deliberately, “Daeva.”

CT-312 shifted a half step. Sight never wavering. Calculations rolling through her mind. Distance, follow-up shots. A plan and a backup. Most importantly an exit. Always.

Still... something gnawed at the edge of her awareness. Subtle as gravity. Not fear. No. This was different. More like the air leaned towards Daeva. Pulling her in like an orbit. CT-312 shoved the pressure down. Hardening her focus. Her finger now rested against the trigger.

The Scout recalled the mission parameters. Round up the hostages. Eliminate anyone resisting. Secure Skull Ridge. Height meant nothing. Sith influence meant nothing. CT-312 would drop him all the same to complete her duty. Her tone through the helmet’s modulator was bone-dry of a soldier’s finality. No repeat. No second warning.

“Spa time’s over. Get dressed.”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Oh, I disagree. There is power in a name."

It was evident that the girl did not recognize the Dark Lord by appearance alone, which is why He'd opted to give her the name Daeva instead of Carnifex. It was so very rare to find Himself in a position of complete anonymity by coincidence. Something resembling amusement flickered across the Dark Lord' features, eyes shining like a jeweled diadem. But no fear, never fear, for the Dark Lord of the Sith had not once nor would He ever fear the instruments of mortal men.

"What will you do now, little hunter?" He approached through the water, the waves parting at His approach. "Armor and cloth hold little meaning to me, I can see through them as readily as one sees through glass. I see your face. Uncertainty wages a harrowing war with conviction, but which will emerge victorious." The Dark Lord's words wormed their way up the girl's spine, His very presence courting the nauseating sensation of delirium and panic.

It was as though fingers had begun to curl around the back of her neck, even from within the gear she'd worn. He was getting closer now, too close. The closer He got, the stronger her primal urge to fight or flee became.

"Pull the trigger, little creature," the Dark Lord crooned, "I want to see the fear etched in your face."

CT-312 | Jacen Breska
Eira Dyn | Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[CT-312]

//: Eira Dyn Scherezade deWinter Jacen Breska Darth Carnifex | Open //:
//: Lanupa , Kastolar Sector//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: M.I. Model 7 shotgun| LO-22S| Sunshot Pistol| M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: DROIDS: 1 x LK War-X //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective II - LANUPA RAID //:​

CT-312’s visor hid the eye-roll. A single slow blink of indifference. Unamused. Uncaring. Power in a name. To others? Maybe. She understood the concept. Titles. Legacies. Weight, people liked to wrap themselves in. But to her? A number in the masses. Not even a line in the ledger. Names meant nothing.

This Daeva was an odd one. Confident. Too confident and calm. CT-312 knew better to let her guard down. Civilians and their words. He spoke riddles and layers. Words meant to dig under the skin… ‘My face?’ Was this meant to rattle her?

The chamber vibrated with his words. As he drew closer, she began to feel it. The odd pressure of something trying to press in. Ghosting over her nerves. Sensations she’d never really experienced and couldn’t understand. Was this some kind of force trick? Like the time when she was fighting with the Galactic Alliance? Some kind of attempt to make her feel frail? A sneer pulled at her lips behind the half-mask and helmet. Wrong. Irritation and annoyance grew. CT-312’s chest rumbled as a suppressed low guttural growl escaped past her clenched teeth, carrying faintly through the helmet’s modulator.

Maybe the heat of the spa was finally getting to Daeva. Perhaps he’d been in here too long. “I think you’re confused.” Her tone carried a sharpened edge. “There is no uncertainty.” Her finger toggled the shotgun’s settings. “but there definitely is conviction.” CHK-CHNK. The rounds in the shotgun’s chamber swapped. Disruptor shells humming readily.

The Scout observed that with every syllable and step he took towards her the pressing of invisible hands clawed at her neck. Stirring the primal war between fight and flight. Her body knew the signal. Her whole life training killed it.

First little hunter... Now little creature. Her visor stayed fixed. Reticle locked square on his chest. Shifting her stance, boots grinding against tile as she planted her stance harder. Shotgun braced. CT-312 didn't needed to be told twice to pull the trigger. Beneath the helmet, her mouth tugged in the faintest shadow of a smirk. Her tone came light with amusement “Okay.” Without hesitation, squeezed the trigger.

BOOM. A crack of thunder and a scream of energy filled the spa chamber. A single well placed disruptor shot aimed square at Daeva’s chest. CT-312's arms moved like clockwork. Racking the shotgun again. CHK-CHNK. Next round chambered, while aim never wavered. Ready to fire again if needed.

CT-312 almost laughed. It came out as a flat exhale. "Fear?" The term itself felt alien. A concept never written into her bones. She didn't even know what fear was supposed to feel like. Raised in fire and silence. Born into battles and war. She stood in fire before. Bled out in worse places. Most would break and she hadn't. Wouldn't. Fear was for people who had something to lose. Disposable. That's what she was.

If Daeva wanted fear. He'd come to the wrong trooper.

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 2 - Spa Day
Outfit: Robe
Tag: Jacen Breska | CT-312 | Scherezade deWinter | Darth Carnifex

"Hmmm... perfect day. That is something you will have to figure out. Can't spoon feed you all the ways to my heart." Eira smirked, a teasing giggle that lingered in the back of her throat as she relaxed in the chair. "Just as I will have to wait and figure out if you were lying about those lips of yours. Bold claims." Eira heard the gunshots and screams. The chaos had begun and Eira was excited to finally get involved in the mission orchestrated by the DeathDrop.

Eira rose from her chair and gave Jacen a small forehead kiss, a tease of what was to come post mission. But also giving the man something he was known to enjoy a lot. "Good luck!" Her voice deep and sultry in that moment, with the slight huskiness that almost everyone still believed was still her nature voice.

Rolling her neck, Eira sighed contently, while massages, spa treatments and the hot tubs were all nice and conventional ways for someone to relax and enjoy their time. For Eira, the opportunity to kill, corrupt and lay waste to a place was just as appealing to her as a method of relaxation. However, she didn't jump into the chaos. Instead, Eira figured it would be a good chance to find the uber rich and start holding them as hostages. Extorting for credits seemed like a fun chilled start to Eira.

As she rounded the corner to where she heard some wealthier members of the spa had been spending time, Eira spotted 312 holding a shotgun to a target. "Oh excellent, a hostage?" Eira asked before a blast went off and then Eira got a better look at the intended target for shot. "Nooooo... 312....That's-that's Lord Carnifex...." Eira sighed, fearing this was not going to go well for the soldier, no matter what.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The disruptor shot hit it's mark, and by all means should have been an instant kill. Instead, the energy fanned out on impact, and then seemed to seep into the Dark Lord's skin and disappear completely. Sparks of electricity danced out across His skin, the water He was standing in beginning to bubble and boil as the excess energy was diverted down into the water. Steam rose in heavier clouds, now obscuring the tall man from visual sight. If she'd fire again, she'd come to find that He was no longer there, her shots now merely parting the cloud of steam that had arisen.

"Yes, fear," came His voice, all around her now, "Even a creature of lower intelligence should know fear. Perhaps I overestimated you."

Suddenly, a hand shot out from the steam gathered at her back. Heavy, powerful fingers rushed down intending to clamp around the soldier's head, and pull her back with enough force to completely lift her off the ground. The Dark Lord intended to throw the girl across the spa, towards the closest pillar in range. His movements were nightmarishly quick, even for someone of His immense height and stature. Corded muscle pressed up from beneath hardened, scarred olive skin.

"Then again, creatures with numbers are akin to animals, are they not? What are the depths of an animal's intelligence?" Was it not strange that this stranger, who the girl didn't recognize, knew that her name consisted of numbers? Perhaps such a realization might not fully be appreciated yet, but while she did not know her assailant; He definitely knew her.

He never forgot a face, even one that had been previously hidden behind the faceless mask of a trooper.

CT-312 | Eira Dyn
Jacen Breska | Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[Jacen Breska]

SPA DATE​

WEARING:: Pictured
EQUIPMENT: NOTHING
LOCATION: :: LANUPA - WELLNESS SPA CENTER ::
TAG: Eira Dyn | CT-312 | Scherezade deWinter | Darth Carnifex

Jacen was a blubbering mess for a second as Eira planted a quick kiss on his forehead as she left. He thought of a million things he wanted to say as he watched her race off towards the ever growing sounds of chaos and battle. It'd have to wait, as she said, and he rose to his feet as well. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as the other spa-goers began their frantic maneuvering. Jacen, however, casually returned to the men's locker room and swapped out his cozy robe for a black shirt and pants combo. He cursed the fact he didn't bring a weapon with him, but he knew that was an easily remediable situation.

Leaving the Locker, he saw a couple guards begin moving towards the sounds of carnage and he put on his best 'scared rich useless guy' voice,"

"Help! Help!" he cried as he rushed towards them, "They're killing everyone!" He said as he crashed into one of them,

"Sir, get the hell off me!" the guard he crashed into yelled, trying to shake Jacen off as the other guard moved to secure the room. With one of them distracted, Jacen immediately lunged into action, grabbing the guards rifle with both hands and kicking him away before swinging the rifle to bear on the other guard. A quick pull of the trigger sent a red blaster bolt burning into the other guards back. As he crumpled to the ground with a charred hole in his back, Jacen brought the rifle back to the guard he stole it from and said with a smirk, "Oops," before he blasted the guard.

The second guard fell to the ground and Jacen approached, taking the guard's belt. Inside were a few stun grenades and an extra power cell. He wrapped the belt around himself and went to go rejoin Eira and find out what was causing all the ruckus.

He found her, eventually, along with CT-312 and a naked giant man. The giant naked man wore a marking on his forehead. A marking Jacen was terrifyingly familiar with.

The mark of the Kainate. Glowing yellow eyes, long hair, tall, and the mark of the Kainate.

There was only one person this could have been.

"Lord Carnifex..." he said, his skin paling and his breath catching in his throat. She shot at Lord Carnifex? And he intended to return that aggression as the steam around them thickened and moved. In the blink of an eye, as if from a holovid, he was behind her, reaching for her.

Jacen didn't think. His body didn't let him. He just acted. His comrade was in danger and all of a sudden battle instinct and training took over. Muscle memory replaced self-preservation and he raised his newly acquired blaster at Lord Carnifex, squeezing the trigger before he could stop himself. Two twin bolts flew towards the Sith Lord before Jacen knew what he was doing. Immediately afterwards, he shook with fear and his eyes widened. Jacen felt his stomach drop and the air grow cold around him.

What have I done?

Why couldn't those guards just have killed him? It would have made it so much easier. Now he had a blaster and pointed it AND FIRED IT at one of five people in the galaxy he shouldn't have.

​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective: Spa Day! Wait, we had a mission?
Tags: Eira Dyn | Jacen Breska | Darth Carnifex | CT-312 | Open for all
Loadout: Birthday suit and some blood

---

The last guard's head rolled half a meter before it realized it was no longer attached to a body. Scherezade didn't even watch it finish the fall. She'd already plucked her knife free from another throat, the spray of arterial blood painting her like the galaxy's most enthusiastic artist. The spas' pristine halls would never recover. Glitter had a way of sticking forever, but blood? Blood sang when it stained.

Her bare feet padded almost silently over polished flooring, leaving slick red crescents in her wake. For a moment, the screams, the blaster fire, the droid barked orders… All of it became background music to her own private dance. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't refined. It was hungry.

The Sithling turned a corner, carving through a pair of guards too slow to realize she was already in their blind spot. One giggled scream, one wet gurgle, and they crumpled. She didn't even slow.

She could feel… Something. Something that was different than a few moments before. That presence. That massive, cold ocean of darkness that didn't move, but rather was. The weight of it almost pressed down her bones. In a far away memory that had never belonged to her, she remembered whispers and stories of centuries passed, when the stories were about members of her family. But this wasn't her family. Her family was irrelevant in today's galaxy. Still, she knew the sensation of old perceived bogeymen very well.

The corridor opened up, and there they all were: Eira's eyes flicking with frantic concern toward CT-312, who was a heap against a shattered pillar. Jacen, guns smoking, looking like he'd just poked a rancor and realized what a stupid idea that had been. And towering over all those short people, was the bogeymen she could no longer not-sense. Carnifex, Dark Lord of the Sith, in the flesh. Literally.

She padded in, blood-streaked, naked but for the shadows clinging to her skin and the single blade in her hand. Some might have thought it probably looked pathetic compared to the monolith of a man and his overwhelming presence. But Scherezade? Well, for one, she noted that yes, he was tall, but it was so refreshing to be around people taller than her! The rest of her teammates were short compared to her, and so were most people she'd somehow come across. Gone were the days where every male was 7"0 or taller. For a second thing, she fought predators on the regular, and most of them were bigger than her. The difference in size wasn't threatening to her. It was almost like home.

And still, her grip tightened. Her shoulders rolled. She felt that old, sweet spark inside her chest ignite. No one else here was going to do it. It was plastered all over their faces, or feelings. Eira would hesitate. Jacen would die in half a heartbeat. CT-312 was already down for the count for at least the next second. So it would be up to her.

The only one stupid enough or brave enough to take him on.

She'd faced worse odds before, and had always come out of it alive. Big handsome men didn't scare her. And bringing team mates back alive and more or less in one piece had been more or less her selling point when she'd joined their crew.

They'd all had their chance. Now it was her turn.

But first things first.

Scherezade licked her hand, the blood wetting again against her tongue. Force, she loathed the taste of it. And then her hand flickered towards her team mates, the wet drops expanding until they formed a paper-thin protective wall that separated her and Carnifex from the rest of them. Unfortunately, it wasn't strong enough to keep them safe forever. But if he'd go after them, it would give them a few more moments of a chance.

The Blood Hound focused her glowing green eyes on the Dark Lord of the Sith, where they remained while she rubbed her knife against her thick thighs, coating it with the blood of her victims from a few moments ago until she deemed it read, and then hurled the weapon at Carnifex.

She didn't expect the pointy end to get anywhere near him. That would be boring. Instead, as her blade spun through the air between them, the blood released it, turning into a giant net made of blood, ready to trap him in her blood magic if he did not take control of the situation.

 

[CT-312]

//: Eira Dyn Scherezade deWinter Jacen Breska Darth Carnifex | Open //:
//: Lanupa , Kastolar Sector//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: M.I. Model 7 shotgun| LO-22S| Sunshot Pistol| M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: DROIDS: 1 x LK War-X //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective II - LANUPA RAID //:​

She watched as the shot struck Daeva square in the chest. Only to fizzle and dissipate into his skin as though the disruptor round had never been fired. CT-312 kept her finger off the trigger. Refraining from a second pull. Observing as electrical currents charged the water, causing thick steam to engulf the area. Turning sight into guesswork. Her intuition was right, something wasn’t right, from the beginning. Eira’s voice cut through. The name landed flat in her mind. ‘Lord Carnifex?’ A Sith Lord. That was all she knew.

Daeva’s voice came from everywhere at once. Surrounding her. CT-312 could feel it pressing against her ears inside the helmet. Staying silent at his words. Holding up the shotgun, sweeping the area. Reticle searching. Her thoughts churned fast. Fear causes hesitation and in her line of work. Hesitation got people killed. Sith or no Sith. CT-312 didn’t have the luxury of freezing. Mission parameters had been clear: handle everyone. But is Lord Carnifex… or Daeva… an ally or another hostile?

The Scout spoke in a calm but absolute tone that carried the weight of command. “BARCA.” Her internal system needed no further instructions. A confirmation beeped in her ear. The realization hit a second too late. Steam condensed heavily behind her. CT-312 barely registered the blur of movement before iron fingers clamped down on her helmet. ‘Shi–’ A growl in her chest snapped into a strangled snarl as her boots left the ground. Being forcefully yanked backwards, thrown across to the nearest pillar.

CRASH. Marble shattered as her body slammed into a pillar. The impact rattled every bone in her body. BARCA’s alerts screamed warnings in her ear, oxygen readouts spiked as vitals screamed. Her shotgun skittered away. Clattering across wet floor tiles. CT-312’s vision blurred temporarily. Ears ringing inside the helmet. A copper taste filled her mouth. ‘Fragging karkin… Mother f-’

Muscle memory moved CT-312 before thought. Rolling to her side, dragging herself upright with a grunt. Placing one gloved hand against the fractured stone, steadying herself. The other clenched reflexively. Pain gnawed at her ribs with every breath, forcing air through clenched teeth. The growl stayed low and guttural at the insult and mockery.

But one word kept echoing in her mind. Numbers. That word scratched deeper than she wanted to admit at the back of her skull. Coincidence? Or something more? Curiosity itched… CT-312 knew better to dwell on it, now wasn't the time. Shoving it down. Her visor cut through the fog. HUD recalibrating. Familiar IFFs pinged. It was her assigned squad.

A flash of red bolts fired, directed at Daeva. Her eyes scanned the area, taking in the chaos. TK-710’s face showed regret at his actions. Eira in disbelief. Scherezade jumping in… naked. Her sorcery formed a thin protective blood wall, separating her and the Sith Lord. All of them were here. On any report, it would sound insane. Two naked combatants, one of them a Sith Lord with two troopers, an apprentice, and a blood witch inside a spa chamber. What could possibly go wrong?

Thud. Thud. Thud. Heavy metal footfalls neared her. Two Pred-X droids advanced at CT-312’s location. Summoned from her earlier call at BARCA. Silent orders were given out. One bent its metal neck, retrieving her shotgun delicately in its jaws. Offering it back. CT-312 gripped it tight. The second Pred-X stepped forward, shielding with its bulk.

CT-312 inhaled sharply. Pain flaring. Steadying herself. Even flung like a doll, a smirk tugged faintly at her split lip. An amused low ragged chuckle rasp crept through the helmet’s modulator. “Nice throw, Daeva.” A notification chime and text scrolled across the side of her HUD.

[ BARCA ]
[ Main Wellness Spa… 86% ]
[ East Branch… SECURED ]
[ West Branch… 74% ]

The mission was nearly wrapping up. This skirmish wasn’t worth the time or resources. Giving the shotgun grip one last squeeze, she holstered the weapon. Her hand shifted toward the Shiva Knives strapped to the back of her belt. Grabbing a blade out, her grip flexed around the handle. Keeping it ready. CT-312 cautiously circled slowly with her war droids. Keeping distance. Eyes locked on Daeva as Scherezade threw what seemed to be another blood netting towards him. Keying the squad channel, “You guys know him?”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Both bolts struck as intended, smoke rising up from the smoldering pockmarks left in their wake. The Dark Lord's head glacially pivoted to stare directly at the other trooper, the sheer intensity of His gaze weighing down like the scorching ray of a searchlight. He raised His hand, and passed it over the spots where both bolts had struck. When the hand moved away, both pockmarks had vanished entirely, and nestled in the Dark Lord's clutch was both of those energy bolts. He'd pulled the dissipated energy out from both His body and the air around it, reconstituting their form as they had been when fired.

Without a word, He flicked both of them back at the soldier; their momentum magnified a dozen-fold by the force of His action.

His eyes then moved to look at all the others that had come to intrude upon His sanctity, and though His eyes swept over Eira He gave no indication of recognition. It was something she would've been familiar with, the implacable expression of the Dark Lord which very rarely, if ever, shifted beyond permanent apathetic disdain. Even so, the dark runic tattoos coating His broad chest and muscular arms seemed to wriggle and pulsate with delight; the dark power emanating from within titillated by the mere whisper of violence.

The other naked one, the woman with green eyes, conjured a net of blood magic to ensnare the Dark Lord. Carnifex took a step towards the net as it came down upon Him, and in that instant He was suddenly a mere few feet away from the woman. Space had folded over by His will, seamlessly transitioning from Him standing well within the shadow of the net to now looming large before her. It would've been impossible to rationalize visually, it was like they'd been watching a recording that had become corrupted and skipped, there was no other way to describe the sudden shift in position.

"We know one another quite well," responded the Dark Lord to 312, even though her query had been isolated to the channel shared by the others in the room. His own voice seemed to be multi-layered, echoing both in the room and through the communication equipment itself. "Consider it the only reason none of you have been dashed to meat on the floor, that and the number's ignorance perhaps. I found it amusing. It is not often that I am unknown to a living creature."

CT-312 | Jacen Breska
Eira Dyn | Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective: Spa Day! Wait, we had a mission?
Tags: Eira Dyn | Jacen Breska | Darth Carnifex | CT-312 | Open for all
Loadout: Birthday suit and some blood

---

If she were to be frank, she'd sorta hoped her net would at least do something to the ridiculously tall and equally ridiculously naked man in front of her. There had been no hope for him to actually be captured, but at least slowed down? Or maybe even distracted for a jiffty? But no, just as her name wasn't Frank, he was entirely unaffected by her deeds thus. Instead, he just blinked, the net passing through where he'd stood a moment ago without anything for it to grab.

And he had chutzpah about it as well, moving closer to her, yet still such a fraction of a distance out of her kicking space. She knew it had been a bad idea not to wear boots. If she'd had boots on, Scherezade was certain she could kick him without needing to close any kind of distance. And now, he was looking at her friends.

Scherezade grinned. This meant she was perfectly fine in her current placement within the room. Since the Dark Lord was so intent on using these seconds to speak to her teammates, to try to show off.

Pfft.

She hoped they weren't star-struck by him enough to be taken in.

Still, the time was hers. Since he was speaking, Scherezade decided she might as well let the Blood Hound out earlier than usual. Most of her tricks, after all, could be mistaken for ordinary manipulations of the Force. But this? As far as she was aware, it was hers alone, for she'd never heard of anyone else doing it. It didn't even have to look grand in order to be grand, it was just the quiet horror of veins turning traitor.

She drew in a long, greedy inhale through her nose, the sound guttural, almost bestial. Focus stretched outward, narrowing the world until there was only him, the Dark Lord, the ocean of shadow pressed into flesh. His name barely mattered. His presence was enough.

She could taste him without ever touching him. The tang of iron beneath skin. The steady cadence of his heart pushing rivers through a cathedral of bone. She did not so much reach for it as sink into it, plunging herself into the torrent until her mind was drowned in scarlet. Every beat, every surge, was a drum she could twist to her rhythm. Blood was a song, and she was its conductor.

Boil, she whispered into the current, no voice needed. The command seeped like venom into the flow, turning warmth into fever, fever into fire. Not fire that burned from without, but from within, the suffocating immolation of being cooked alive by your own body. She wove the sensation like a lover's caress, inexorable and intimate, until every vein threatened to betray its master.

And because subtle cruelties pleased her, she asked for one more indignity, for a thin line of crimson to well beneath his left nostril, a herald of worse to come. If he did not do anything to stop her, it would first be a bead, then a trickle.

Unless he'd direct his focus to her to stop her, the man would soon feel… hot, as the body betrayed itself with every beat. A reminder that even gods could bleed, and she would be the one to draw it.

 

[Jacen Breska]

SPA DATE​

WEARING:: Black Shirt and pants.
EQUIPMENT: Blaster
LOCATION: :: LANUPA - WELLNESS SPA CENTER ::
TAG: Eira Dyn | Scherezade deWinter | Darth Carnifex | CT-312

His shots hits the Dark Lord. Two smoldering scorch marks on his shoulders were proof enough of that, and Jacen felt a small amount of elation as the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile that was immediately replaced with dread as the Dark Lord waved his hand over the wounds, pulling the energy from the bolts out of his body and reforming them before he sent them screaming back towards Jacen with much more speed and force then it had struck him.

Instincts took over. Muscle memory replaced the fear that controlled him, and he dove backwards. One of the blasts struck...something. Something the naked woman had cast upon him. Some shimmering, translucent shield that shattered at the impact, dissipating the energy.
It gave Jacen the extra second he needed to dodge, keep the second blast from burning a hole into his head.
The proximity of the blast still singed his head, and he yelled out in pain, his hand brushing the blistered skin of his scalp as he hit the ground.

Like an animal, fear and pain gave way to anger as he pulled his hand away and clenched it tight.

312 wasn't disengaging. Neither was the naked woman who protected him with whatever weird magicks she had. Eira remained on the side, observing the scene. If they weren't falling back, he wasn't falling back. Live together, Drop together, die together.

He raised his blaster again and sighted the Dark Lord's feet, squeezing the trigger again from his position on the ground. A trio of bolts this time flew through the air and targeted the Dark Lords lower left leg. Something to keep him busy while Naked Lady did what she did, and 312 got into position with her droids.

Jacen didn't want to kill the Dark Lord, or die to him. At this point he just wanted to end the fight. If no one was stopping fighting, Jacen wasn't going to be the first.

But he'd put the offer out there.

"312, this is 710. Disengage, that's Darth Carnifex. Head of the Kainate? He's THE Kainate! Disengage and withdraw! We can send him an apologetic gift basket later, He isn't the mission!" He yelled out both out loud and into the comms, "Withdraw!," he repeated and rose back to his feet, keeping his weapon trained on the Dark Lord.

He got lucky once. He doubted he'd get lucky again. They had to leave. There would be no victory here. Not for the Drop.

Just graves.

​

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 2 - Spa Day
Outfit: Robe
Tag: Jacen Breska | CT-312 | Scherezade deWinter | Darth Carnifex

Luckily 312 had lowered the gun and taken in what Eira had stated, it was probably why things didn't escalate to instant death for any of them in the room besides Carnifex. However, the situation was far from handled, Eira needed to figure out a manner to ensure that everyone stopped fighting the Sith Lord so they could continue the mission elsewhere in the building. To Eira, it wasn't an issue of being the first to stop fighting. She never started fighting and being the first to make a stand was a brave, a bold move.

And Eira was always for being bold.

Forming a barrier, Eira created an invisible wall between them and Carnifex. Nothing the Sith Lords in the room couldn't break through if they wanted but enough to prevent the bullets from connecting and giving some break for everyone to calm down. "This is not the enemy and not the objective. This is a death wish and we need to move on and take over other areas."

Eira's voice was stern, firm in conviction that this was not a path the DeathDrop needed to continue down. Looking over to 312, "Quinn wouldn't want this, and don't make me choose between defending a mentor and a needless death." Hoping that once 312 accepted to drop this as a target that everyone else would follow suit. The soldier was a natural leader and Eira knew the sway she had over the others that Eira herself did not have.

She just hoped that things did not continue to get violent since it would mean she would have to take sides against those she was beginning to befriend. People she was growing to enjoy the company of. But there was only one person Eira placed as more important than Carnifex in her mind and that was Quinn. Her mentors were the ones who deserved her undying loyalty until there was nothing left of her or them.

 

[CT-312]

//: Eira Dyn Scherezade deWinter Jacen Breska Darth Carnifex | Open //:
//: Lanupa , Kastolar Sector//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: M.I. Model 7 shotgun| LO-22S| Sunshot Pistol| M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: DROIDS: 1 x LK War-X //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective II - LANUPA RAID //:​

Her body ached with every step. The impact still pulsed dully through her ribs. Knife in hand, CT-312 moved in a slow deliberate wide arc. Distancing. Observing. Each step echoed faintly on marble.

Bolts of red energy that followed connected. The Scout tracked their paths, leaving scorched pockmarks across the Sith Lord’s frame. Her head tilted a fraction at the sight of it. He brushed the shots off as if they were specks of dust that landed. Only to reflect the energy back. Amplified. Splintering through the blood-woven barrier and one grazing TK-710. Interesting. She’d been right to stow the shotgun. Her grip on the knife tightened. Knuckles creaking in her gloves.

He suddenly vanished. One moment Scherezade’s net loomed overhead, the next, Daeva was in front of her.

CT-312’s posture shifted. Spine straightening up a fracture. Eyes narrowing behind the visor. That voice again. Mocking and intrusive. She wasn’t anyone’s amusement. CT-312 bit back the urge to respond. Did she not use her encrypted channel? Had the throw damaged her equipment? A flicker through the HUD confirmed all green. No. Was this another Force trick? Her left hand reached back into one of her belt pouches. Grasping the arrow head, squeezing. A faint pulse. Expanding a meter wide voidstone suppression field around it. Silence. No more trickery.

[ BARCA ]
[ Main Wellness Spa... 93% ]
[ East Branch... SECURED ]
[ West Branch... 88% ]

The Scout watched as Scherezade was still pressed to attack. TK-710 fired again. Eira, not wanting to engage. The chaos thickened. Unpredictable. Annoyance began to gnaw its way up CT-312’s spine. Ignoring TK-710’s words that he was shouting over the comms. Withdraw and disengage. She’d let it slide once. The mission wasn’t over.

A Sith lord. Now a kainite. Whatever that was. Irritation was simmering beneath the armor. Stopping abruptly at TK-710’s last word. Yelling in the comms:

Withdraw!

Without hesitation, CT-312 drew her LO-22S sidearm and fired at the soldier. Intentionally missing. Placing the shot within inches of his left boot. The .50-cal slug round struck the marble. A small flash of dust and debris exploded. A warning.

“The mission isn’t completed.” CT-312’s modulated voice came out cold and absolute. “It’s within mission parameters.” Her head slightly tilted. “You forget we complete the mission by any means necessary. Even against death itself. That’s the job.” Glaring behind the visor at TK-710’s direction.

Eira’s words filtered through next. Disbelief and protest. The mention of Quinn. That name froze her mid-motion. The Princess. Then, mentor. CT-312’s visor turned toward Eira, unreadable behind the tinted glass. ‘The one He mentioned.’ recalling the connection Daeva had hinted at. CT-312 didn’t know how much to believe Eira knowing the Princess. A faint scowl formed under the helmet. This entire situation was becoming intolerable.

The floor faintly trembled. THUD. THUD. THUD. Heavy steps followed by a low mechanical rumble. Slowly a familiar War-X droid that had scorched and scarred plating emerged from the steam. Hydraulic pistons hissed faintly as it came to a halt. Towering behind the Scout and the two Pred-X. It lowered its head next to CT-312’s, emitting a low synthetic growl directed at the Sith Lord. Blood red optics flared, tracking. A chime notification blinked across the HUD.

[ BARCA ]
[ Main Wellness Spa... SECURED ]
[ East Branch... SECURED ]
[ West Branch... SECURED ]

Mission complete. Holstering the sidearm, CT-312 sheathed the knife and keyed the squad’s line. “Scherezade. You’re about to be late for your facial appointment.” Dry humor, but the cue to move on was clear. Turning, her visor locked on Eira. “If this doesn’t check out,”—a beat—“we’ll have problems.” hinting at knowing the Princess.

Bringing her left vambrace up, fingers tapped across. The HUD chimed softly. Glancing briefly toward Daeva. CT-312 said flatly, without a shred of sincerity. “All expenses have been reimbursed. Damages covered and anything else will be taken care of by the resort. Apologies, Daeva.”

As she stepped back away from the group, the battle droids remained motionless. Still watching the Sith Lord. Pausing in her step. Her helmet turned toward TK-710. “Apologetic gift basket sent.” Then her voice that followed dropped low. All pretense gone. Steady and lethal. “Don’t ever tell me to withdraw again. You’re not authorized to give me orders.” CT-312 killed others for less. Troopers who’d lost their nerve. Soldiers who’d tried to run. Deserters. She was the one they sent to make sure there were none. How dare he tell her to withdraw. The irony.

Dozens of red optics flickered to life around them in the steam’s fog. Pred-X and War-X units waiting in silence at a distance. The soft mechanical growls of servos filled space.

“Next time there won't be a warning.” to TK-710.

With that, CT-312 continued walking out. Her tone was unreadable beneath the helmet. “Enjoy the rest of the spa.” she called over her shoulder, loud enough for the whole squad to hear. The three battle droids waited before pivoting in unison. Falling in step behind. Yellow optics replaced red. The surrounding battle droids backed off. Receding into the mist once more.