They Found Her Shattered

[Dancer]

Soceras​

Second Chances City Outskirts​

Slave Rehab Center; Maximum Security Asylum Wing ​

She let out a roar, slamming her weak fists against the Plasteel door. BANG. BANG. BANG.

BANG.

despite her small frame, the woman was managing an amazing amount of strength in her assaults on the metal as she threw everything she had into it. "Let," BANG, "Me," BANG, "GO!"

The two guards outside watched as she railed against it, even though a solid two inches of durasteel was between her and them, the projection of her madness and insanity was enough to make them grip their stun guns a little tighter. She was due for a sedative, but, no one, even the wookiee doctor, wanted to go in right now.

"You'd think we hadn't just rescued her," one of them muttered to the other, "Some kinda gratitude she's got, eh Zekk?"

"Yea, tell me 'bout it," Zekk said with an anxious chuckle, "You believe the rumors around her, Orn? That she's connected to that old case?"

"Possibly, but I wanna know why Mister J is so interested in her."

"Maybe an old flame," the other jibbed back, and they both let out a laugh that was cut off by an even louder slam.

The Half-zeltron inside hurled her whole body against the plasteel, The metal cracked under the damage as she slumped to the ground. Orn took a half step back, "Christ, man, you think she can bust through that thing?"

Zek put on a show of confidence, "Nah, no, way, see the way she's gripping her side right now? She broke a few ribs. Her hands are bleeding, see? She can't keep going like this forever. She's gonna run out of gas sometime."

The redhead panted, glowering at the two men before unleashing a spew of obscenities that would make a Hutt blush.

"Holy hell, she's got a mouth. Let's hope that expert comes in. Rumor has it she comes strait from the Big Man's orders."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

t wasn’t often that she got requested for this sort of thing. Usually it was dancing, lessons or performances. Maybe word in the underworld spread more quickly than she initially thought.

A slave rehab facility. Striding through the halls towards the Asylum Wing, Joza was accompanied by a pair of guards. As they moved further into the sterile white corridors, so did the security measures increase. This would be a good target for some ambitious criminals. Justice had probably thought of that already. The man was wealthy, and didn’t appear to cut corners where other lives were concerned. Joza could respect that.

After being escorted to one of the heavier holding areas, her eyes immediately tracked to the creature trapped behind layers of plasteel just as she slammed her body against the transparent screen. A brow arched at how the container shook, and with a sigh, Joza made her way to stand directly in front of the metal shielding. Back straight, hands clasped behind her, she stared at the frenzied woman with a clinical gaze. She was bleeding, and from the way she held herself, hurling her body against the reinforced cell did not leave her unscathed.

Redheaded Zeltrons often proved to be trouble, anyhow. Eyes never leaving the manic girl, she addressed the pair of guards in the room.

[SIZE=11pt]“What’s her story?” [/SIZE]

@Mystique

 

[Dancer]

Both of the guards, Zekk and Orn, snapped to attention when the lady arrived. The struggle to maintain eye contact was real.

Zekk, the senior officer of the two pulled a data pad from his belt. "Here's her file, Miss Perl. It's spotty but it's all we got. Poor woman's been through it bad."

The former slave stopped attacking her confines and paced the small cell like a caged animal, snarling and muttering to herself.

"Our files dubbed her 'Mystique' she matches the description of a woman pulled from Hutt Slavery three years ago, but we can see how well that went," Orn said.

Her snarls grew louder as the woman grabbed the bed bolted to the floor. Her muscles strained as she pulled and pulled to try and wrench it free to make it an improvised weapon.

"DNA tests shows show she matched stuff found in multiple homicides on world, and a half a dozen off world," Zekk confirmed, paraphrasing the file, "Twenty on world, I think."

"Twenty? Christ man," Orn muttered.

"I will kill you," Mystique screamed writhing on the metalic floor. "I will kill every one of you mother ?&!$s and you can't stop me!"

"I know right? We picked her up from a cargo container on worked. Part of the boss's Clean Up Soceras Program to end slavery and spice," Zekk added. "She was so doped up it was a wonder she could stand. We dried her out look at her now. Pitiful thing."

"No, that's not what I heard exactly," Orn said leaning in slightly, "The scuttlebutt is that the Heiress was captured, James and some Ben Corfesine did an evac on her butt," he used [member="Jessica Justice"]'s code name more unintentionally than on purpose. "Boss went full rage. The case photos? Brutal."

"Christ, I'd have loved to have seen him take down those bit--uh--badguys," Zakk said suddenly becoming aware of his language.

Mystique rose and planted her feet. Her hands balled into tight fists so tight blood dripped from her palms as her nails pierced her pink skin. Mystique's lips parted in a feral sneer. Using her Zeltron empathy she projected as hard as she projected outward. Her insanity, her hurt, her feircely battered mind blasted outward, "I. Will. KILL!"

"Demons damn it!" Zakk shouted gripping his temple. "Fall back, Orn. I'm calling this one in as lethal. We have to put her down," he reached for his walkie talkie to bring in a firing squad. Her rage and madness projection was severely altering his mental state.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza didn’t have time to brace herself as a wave of anger and torment crashed into her. Her gaze drew along the surface of the wall until her eyes would meet dead on with Mystique’s. The effects of the empathy rolled off of the Rogue Zeltron like smoke and she cleared her throat. She’d been trained well enough in her racial ability as well as using the Force to enhance it to the point where batting away Mystique’s rage was second nature.

As one of the guards called in the order for the captive to be executed, Joza raised a hand, attention still on the frantic Zeltron as if she would disappear if out of sight. “I didn’t come all this way to watch you execute her.” Half-turning on her heel, she glanced over her shoulder at Zakk.

“Easy. She’s projecting her emotions onto you. Don’t let her win.” Turning back towards @Mystique, she cocked her head to the side. “Let me in there.” She pointed towards the containment cell with one finger. “Now.”

 

[Dancer]

Zakk looked at the Jedi like she was crazy. She was not only telling him to keep her alive but to let her in there. He wanted to object. To tell her that she was crazy and that the woman would kill her and eat her body.

"Yes, ma'am, right away, ma'am," Orn managed gritting his teeth.

The young guard pressed his data card into the slot and tapped out the over ride code for the door. A half a second later the control console let out a beep and the door slid open with a whoosh.

Mystique stood glaring as her blood dripped onto the cold durasteel floor, her lips wrenched into a heartless sneer. She stood her ground, her hetochromatic eyes boring holes in Joza.

"You've got a lot of guts coming in here," She snarled, her words peppered with obscenities. "I'm going to enjoy ripping you appart, one pink cell at a time."

In the force, her presence was like an open, infected sore. Pain compounded on pain seemed to ooze through her pores in a maddening deluge of agony. Her magenta nostrils flared with each breath like a horse after a sprint.

"I've lost more than you can ever dream. I've hurt more than you could believe, so whatever sick, evil fantasy your going to fulfill--do it. I won't give you the satisfaction of begging for mercy."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza had been threatened in a lot of ways before. Most commonly it was “If I wanted you dead, you would be.” But never had the Zeltron been told she’d be ripped apart on a cellular level. That was a new one.

She took a moment to take in the entirely of the frenzied woman. Bloodied, broken and practically hyperventilating. Anguish and rage seeped through the Force and flooded Joza’s senses, and she drank it in. Good little Jedi don’t do such things, but Joza was hardly a Jedi. Dealing with her own emotions could be a messy affair, but it helping someone with their own—especially if she had no attachment to them—allowed her to work from more of a clinical perspective.

A brow arched as she stood near the doorway, body language alert but making no move towards the other redhead. “I’m not here to inflict my fantasies on you, so you don’t need to worry about that.” Idly, she smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re making quite the assumption, there. You don’t even know me.” Joza smiled wryly for a few moments before it dropped.

Arms spread out, palms forward as she opened herself to Mystique. “You talk a big game, but you haven’t even made a move to attack me yet. What happened to ripping me apart? You seemed so eager to kill me when I was behind that glass.” She made sure to lock eyes with Mystique as she spoke, waving a hand towards the wall that separated the two Zeltrons from the guards.

@Mystique

 

[Dancer]

[member="Joza Perl"]

"I've been around, I know how this works," she hissed. "The Hutts, their henchmen, their henchwomen, the things they do to beings like me, I know how it works, I've been in cells before, I've been shackled, I've been through it all."

The rage and hurt that poured out of her lips was putrid, almost sordidly so, building to hysteria with every word. She had been afraid, she had cowered, and that was before Scarlet. That was before she had a chance to fight back. She wasn't going to lay down and take things anymore. She wasn't about to let anything bad happen to her again. And in her emotionally wrecked state of schizophrenia and parasuicide caused by dehydration, food and sleep deprivation, drug withdraw, and brain chemical imbalances--she was imploding right before their very eyes.

She unballed her fists, Mystique's ragged edged fingernails were revealed like talons covered in her own blood. The half Zeltron's voice echoed in the cell like a feral cat's as she sprang at Joza. Her movement was uncoordinated, feral, and purely emotional. Both of her hands came down at Joza's face, aimed at the other woman's eyes.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

 

[Joza Perl]

“I do too. That’s why they called me in here.”

Mystique lunged towards Joza, and the Rogue was prepared. She ducked to avoid the immediate damaged of being scratched by her nails, right arm coming over her head to intercept Mystique’s fingers. At the same time, she moved with her own ducking motion and sharply sweep kicked at the charging woman’s legs, not aiming to harm but to knock her on her behind.

Eyes still on the suffering Zeltron, Joza pointed towards the guards through the glass wall. “You two. Give us some privacy, will you?” Focusing onto Mystique, she licked her lips as they were a bit dry. Treating the girl like a stable person would be dangerous at this point, but she shouldn’t be treated like an animal or a caged possession.

Projecting her voice or thoughts into someone’s mind was something Joza was adept at, but a technique she disliked using seeing as how it was intrusive and downright rude. There were a few groups she had no qualms about using it against, though. Mystique was not one of them, but there was a point she needed to get across. The other redhead would see flashes of Joza’s own memories in her mind—a younger Zeltron cringing in pain as a horned Sith Priestess carved into her flesh with a knife. Golden eyes flared, and the teenaged captive fell to the ground in agony. She’d learned what crucitorn was that day.

Next was fairly recent, at most only a few years back. Bound, shackled and nude in a cell with several inches of water and mud at the bottom. Fresh lash marks scored across her flesh, the blood seeping from them mixed with the mud and dirty water from the floor. A large Hutt on a hoversled drifted outside the cell, his fatty lips moving but his words muffled. Only one sound was clear—laughter. A heinous sound that ripped into her core, laughter from the court of Kossak the Hutt as they watched what happened to a disobedient slave. It rose to meet her tortured screams, cheering her on. It was a game to them. A show. How much more could she take? How much louder could she get? The shock collar around her neck jolted her back into awareness as the Hutt gave an order, and the Gamorrean guards flaking each corner of the cell moved in to convene on the Zeltron.

The images weren’t meant to startle Mystique, nor were they some futile attempt to scare her into better behavior. It didn’t work that way. But perhaps she’d recognize the terrified, desperate, and nearly manic Zeltron in the visions. “I know what it’s like to be nothing more than entertainment. A possession. Someone’s plaything.” Her voice had softened, but there was an edge to her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mystique. I just want to talk to you.”

@Mystique

 

[Dancer]

Her attack was very clumsy, the attack of someone who didn't know combat. At Joza's vasty superior training, Mystique fell back on the hard metal floor with a slam. It was only instinct that kept the woman from hitting her head and doing further permanent damage. She lay dazed and blinking for a moment, her strained mind and body trying to take in what had just happened.

Zakk and Orn, at Joza's request, suddenly found somewhere else to be and shuffled away quickly down the hall.

As their race was, the telepathic link went both ways, as Mystique's eyes went out of focus, she could see Joza's memories, and her's leaked through unconsciously.

Her mothers, two very talented and once famous erotic dancers fell in the wrong crowds on bad luck and were enslaved by the Hutts, their daughter, Mystique, was taken to harems, schools, and taught to be the perfect slave. While other girls were playing with dolls, she was groomed to perfection in all manner of dancing, then later, seduction itself. And the guards, the underhands of the Hutts had their way with her, with or without her consent.

Then she was freed the first time, and met [member="Ryn'Dhal"] working the Soceras clubs. Then she fell in love with Scarlet Ghost, her love's last words echoed in her mind before being torn from the world by a single bullet "So there's only one thing I can really ask to try and keep you like that forever. Will you marry me my darling?"

Tears streamed down her face as the flattened Zeltron woman exchanged her pain and felt Joza's. They were a lot alike. Mystique propped herself up slightly, sniffling, silent, and mostly calm and abated for the moment, a shimmer of who she was before came through her.

"O--o-ok," Mystique managed with a nod.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

As Joza’s own memories drifted away, they made way for Mystique’s recollections. It was a natural thing between two Zeltrons, and if there had been any onlookers—which there weren’t—they’d notice the women becoming eerily quiet in a haze of heavy emotion. The connection allowed them to feel eachother’s pain and seemed to insight a sense of comradery between them.

For the first time, a sympathetic smile crossed Joza’s face. Her features softened, and she seated herself on the floor a few feet from Mystique. She wanted to hug the girl, but figured she might be wary of contact, given the place she was in. She’d gone from being used and abused in all manners to being restrained here, so it was doubtful that a stranger’s touch would be welcome.

As she settled into a cross-legged position, Joza pulled a pair of Sasori snack cakes from the confines of her outfit. “Are you hungry?” She placed one on the ground between them and unwrapped the other before taking a bite.

“Tell me about yourself, Mystique. Anything you’d like. As much or as little that you’re comfortable with.” She’d read her file, but Joza wanted to know about the real Mystique. Placing a hand behind her, she leaned her weight onto her palm as she ate her snack.

@Mystique

 

[Dancer]

She had been so high strung the woman hadn't realized how very hungry she was. How long had it been since she had eaten? Days, at least. Her nimble fingers snatched the food between them. She hunched over it and unwrapped it as fast as her hands could. Her instincts took over and manners were lost. It wasn't long before the food was gone, crumbs and all. Her cheeks flushed as Mystique realized how poor her manners had been.

She swallowed and took a deep breath. What did she want to share? What could she share? She could feel her vocal chords getting tight, tensing in fear at the question. "I--I-I'mmm n-no bod-yy I-im-imm-port-ant."

She looked down at her hands, face burning in shame. Mystique hated her speech impediment. For so long she had been told to be quiet, to be seen, to not be heard that it was hard for her to talk when she needed to. And besides that--basic was her second language. Her eyes looked at the scabs developing on her palms, defocusing as she hunched over.

"I'm a killer," the words came out of her lips emotionless, almost like she was stating the time of day or the color of the sky, "I watched my love propose and die. Nothing has hurt worse than that. I cannot feel anything anymore. Everything hurts. Living hurts. Every time I close my eyes I see her die over and over again. I want to die. I want to but I can't for some reason. So I kill. I have killed many people. I will kill you too because--"

She cut off in mid sentence and the half zeltron blinked, as if she was waking up from a nap, oblivious to what she just said, "I--I--I'mmm j-j-just a ss-sss-slave g-gh-girl."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

A reflexive smile curved Joza’s lips as Mystique ate, pleased to see that the girl was allowing some sort of interaction. Wordlessly, she pulled another wrapped snack cake from her pocket and passed it over to the hungry Zeltron. Yes, she had quite a few of them on her person. She always did. Thank whatever deities there might be for Zeltron metabolism.

When her stutter shifted into something more akin to cold steel, Joza’s head tilted to the side in curiosity. Whatever it was, it seemed ingrained pretty deep.

“You’re not just a slave girl, Mystique. You’re a beautiful young woman who’s had a hard life and suffered at the hands of others. I know that it might be hard to imagine, but you can become so much more than a slave.”

Extending a hand towards Mystique, Joza called to her softly. “Will you let me bandage your hands? I don’t want you to get and infection and they’ll feel better afterwards. I won’t harm you, I promise.” She looked upon the other redhead gently, her previously solid and unyielding demeanor dissolving to reveal a softer Joza. She had genuine empathy for those who had been forced to live as slaves. Extending her presence out, she sought to comfort Mystique’s mind and soothe away the troubling images.

@Mystique

 

[Dancer]

As soon as it was offered--Mystique couldn't help but seize the second one like a terrified animal and munch into it as fast as her jaw could chew. Anyone who had heard the tales of the Butcher of Dal’Bor would not have believed that with a few kind words, Joza had this serial practically eating out of the palm of her hand. She was, however, a little neater this time, and more composed as she devoured the snack.

“I—I-I am-mm n-n-not-t-t th-aat sm-mmmar-r-r-rtt-t-t-t,” Mystique said dolefully, “I-I’mmm ve-r-rrr-ryy d-duuuhhh-ll.”

She dropped her head in shame, her scarlet hair covering her head like a shameful curtain. “I-I-I nn-n-eee-v-vverr-rrr w-w-waah-sss-zzz.”

She offered both of her hands to the woman to let Joza bandage them. Her eyes stayed lowered in dutiful submission. Just like a good slave. Her years of training, her years of enforcement to make her obedient, diligent, and always responsive over rid her self-preservation. Inside she was panicking, her hands trembled slightly, despite Joza’s gentle coaxing and kindness.

Then suddenly, they stopped, relaxing, no longer trembling.

“This doesn’t change anything,” the cold, steel like-voice said with clarity, behind the curtain of her hair, Mystique’s eyes were hardened into bullet-like glares, “I never have mercy, I never have guilt, I never have compassion, and I never stop killing. Its better this way. It always is. You’re either the butcher or the lamb. Isn’t that what they say? And I am not going to be the lamb anymore.”

When Joza had finished mending her hands, the voice stopped instantly . Mystique guiltily pulled her hands back, closer to her body, folding them across her stomach, “Th-thaaan-k y-y-youu.”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza tilted her head down, meticulous and careful in her movements. Where the Zeltron could not heal like so many other with the gift of the Force, she’d developed a solid set of first-aid skills to supplement what she could not do. As Mystique spoke, she did not interrupt her, listening with an understanding ear and wrapping her damaged hands with a gentle patience.

At the self-depreciation, Joza’s head lifted just slightly but she let the girl speak her piece. No point in interrupting her while she was getting her thoughts out, and it was necessary for Joza to get a read on what the other woman was thinking, sans probing her mind with the Force. This was more difficult, but more honest and less deceptive.

She continued to work diligently even as the scared girl’s had stopped shaking in her own, and the vicious alleged beast in her surfaced. The older Zeltron’s head tilted upwards, meeting the murderous gaze with a firm stare. But when the bloodlust disappeared from Mystique’s voice and she retracted her bandaged hands, so did Joza’s stern face fade and was replaced by a look of thoughtfulness.

“There’s not only the butcher and the lamb, you know.” Clearing her throat, Joza began to tick off the points on each finger as if checking off a list. “There’s the baker, the judge, the tailor, the farmer, the doctor…you see where I’m going with this?” She grinned a little, feeling a bit silly for her comparison but hoped that it made sense. “You’re not dumb, Mystique. Whoever told you that was a liar.” Her eyes softened, sympathetic.

“But I do agree with you on one point. You don’t have to be the lamb anymore. But you don’t need to be the butcher. You shouldn’t be the butcher. You can be so much better than that, Mystique.” She tilted her head to the side, trying to catch the other woman’s gaze. “You’ve got me on your side. I’ll talk to the owner of this place.” She waved a hand to their surroundings. “And see if I can’t get you transferred into my custody. I run a little organization that helps people like you—like us—who’ve gone through rough times. There’s even a few girls there right now about your age. Would you like that, Mystique?”

@Mystique

 

[Dancer]

Mystique gave a slight giggle at Joza's explanation, her nose crinkling up near her eyes as she smiled. It was genuine, real and personable, a glimmer of a personality that had never been snuffed out by rigorous training and cruelty. Perhaps there was still some softness left in her, something that was not a monster, or a horrified girl, but a real woman.

"You’re not dumb, Mystique. Whoever told you that was a liar.”

"A-a l-lot of people h-h-ave," she confessed, her stutter growing smoother, an less pronounced as she became more at ease and less terrified. Something about Joza was personable, nice and kind. Maybe it was that they had so much in common, or maybe Joza was just so genteel to her that it unlocked a side that had been hidden away. "I--I gu-ess I k-kinda just believ-ved them."

“But I do agree with you on one point. You don’t have to be the lamb anymore. But you don’t need to be the butcher. You shouldn’t be the butcher. You can be so much better than that, Mystique.”

Her eyes flashed to cold durasteel darts again at the mention of the butcher, her muscles grew tense and her force signature snapped from terrified and gentle to emotionless and sociopathic. "I am the butcher. No, you cannot hide me, you cannot make me go away. I will not be hurt again. Never again will anyone take away what is mine or my happiness."

At the mention of taking her custody, the aura vanished and again she was a soft girl. Her pink lips curled in a genuine, soft smile, her purple and greens twinkled with happiness as she nodded.

"I--I-I'd like that. I li-like you, Joza. Your-rr n-nice to me. Wh-what would I have to d-do to come w-with you?" her eyes gave a shimmer of fear Her desperate need for solidarity tore through her training and she seized Joza's hand squeezing it pleafully, "Y-our not go-gonna ju-just l-l-leave m-m-me a-ah-ah-rrr y-y-y-oouuu?"

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

The sound of Mystique’s laughter made her smile, a genuine air of happiness blossoming between the two Zeltrons. Joza’s gentle expression did not leave her face, but it did fade as she focused on Mystique’s stuttering words. A knowing smile tickled her lips.

“A while ago, I was told over and over that I was only good for one thing. I started to believe it, too. I wasn’t quite right for a while after I got out of there, but gradually I re-learned who I was.” Her words were intentionally vague, figuring that she did not need to conjure up sour memories for either of them. Mystique would understand what she was getting at.

Soft, searching eyes flared with a cold steel hardness as Mystique’s voice dropped. Joza listened carefully, letting The Butcher speak her piece before the persona dropped and left a nervous, gentle Zeltron behind. Mentally, she noted not to use The Butcher verbally if she could help it and reminded herself to keep her guard up no matter what. She’d have to do some research into this. Was it some sort of defense mechanism that manifested from being mistreated over and over?

When her hand was seized in desperation, Joza felt her heart melt then and there. She had a soft spot for the abused, and seeing so much of herself in Mystique only increased that feeling. “I like you too, Mystique. You’re a nice girl. And I’m going to do everything that I can to get you out of here.” With her free hand, she retrieved a communication device from her pocket and tapped at a few buttons before bringing it closer to her ear.

If she had Mr. Justice on the line, Joza would clear her throat and adopt a bit of an accent. “Yo Justice, imma take this one out. You aight?”

@Mystique

 

[James Justice]

James looked over the datapad, studying with a furrowed brow. There were neat columns across its screen in a complex series of data that was constantly shifting and changing. Lists of products were displayed with their buy and sell values on dozens of worlds in an every changing market of economics and trade market. When he delt in the thousands of tons in buying and selling across markets, it took a droid of huge computation to handle this crap--or a Force user who had been doing it since he was a kid, tapping into his powers unknowingly.

His fingers began dancing across the datapad, buying bulk products on planets, that would then be sold later for much more. Oh, yes, so much tycoon. His comm rang, the spacer picked it up a fraction of a second before, tapping it on before the first ring, "Aye?"

The spacer nodded, he trusted Joza, that's why he called her in. If anyone could heal this damaged redhead--it'd be her. "Aye, go for it. I am workin'. Talk at ye later. Oh, and feel free to come back another time, visit our new spas, I need a real opinion," he added later before hanging up.

Some days the man on the top of the world was really busy.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Dancer]

“A while ago, I was told over and over that I was only good for one thing. I started to believe it, too. I wasn’t quite right for a while after I got out of there, but gradually I re-learned who I was.”

Mystique bit her lip slightly. She wanted to be something or somone else. Someone who was so much smarter than her. Someone who was brave and smart and safe, someone who wasn't always afraid or cowering when everyone else was so strong. That was all she wanted to be--brave. Strong. Smart. She thought she knew who she was, she thought she strong with Scarlet--then her love had died and she was so broken she didn't even know where the pieces were anymore. "I-I can try. I'd l-like that."

“I like you too, Mystique. You’re a nice girl. And I’m going to do everything that I can to get you out of here.”

She didn't know how to take the complement, her pink skin lit up in a flushing blush as she smiled awkwardly. She felt her throat locking up and she couldn't say a word, even if she knew what to say. For several moments she sat locked up there, trying to think when--"Th-thank y-you."

The door behind Joza slid open and Mystique rose to her feet tentatively, flinching as the Zekk filled the doorway with Orn behind him carrying a small box. She was terrified, and they were just as scared of her. She hid behind Joza like a terrified child, her most primal instincts kicking in. The two men stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"Uh, we um, were told give you her effects, and uh, release her into your custody," Zekk said still very confused. He didn't know which zeltron to be more terrified of. He jerked his thumb at the hall behind him, eyes wide as Mystique's purple eye peeked over Joza's shoulder fearfully, "We can load this on your ship if you want."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza clicked her tongue, electing to keep the call short for both of their sakes. “You got it. I’ll swing by sometime and we can talk shop. Catch ya later, Jamesy.” With a click, the call was disconnected. James Justice was a busy man, and right now Joza had a Mystique to attend to. Besides, now wouldn’t be the best time for them to meet or hold an extended conversation. The pair of Zeltrons (or rather, half-Zeltrons) could tear their way through James’ liquor supply easily enough. That typically didn’t lead to productive business meetings. Not in one way, anyhow.

After she tucked the comm away, Joza turned towards Mystique and reached for the other woman’s hand. If allowed to, she would grasp the nervous Zeltron’s hand as they rose and headed towards the door. “I’ve received the okay to transfer you into my custody. Y—“ Cutting off her explanation was the form of Zakk in the doorway. “I’ll take the box, thank you.” She was conscious of her position as Mystique shrunk behind her, her own back serving as a wall between the skittish ex-slave and the guards who would possibly have executed her earlier.

Tilting her head back, she gave Mystique a small smile. “Come along, now. We’re going to my ship. You can shower, rest up, and have a meal there.” As they moved along the corridors of the building, Joza continued to talk softly. “I have a place on Lianna where you’ll stay. I house some former slaves—most are women—that I think you’ll get along with. Some of them are about your age. They’ll help you, too. They’re good people.” Her smile grew at the thought of those she’d been fortunate enough to lend a hand to, and what they’d go on to become.

@Mystique

 

[Dancer]

Mystique seized Joza's hand like a lifeline and held on for dear life. In a way, it was her route to safety and security. She was so scared that she would vanish away into thin air and all of this would be a hallucination or a figment of her imagination. It was almost too good to be true; a kind woman, stepping into her life, to help give her a new start and a better life.

At Joza's gentle coxing she moved along with her through the halls past the security check points. She smiled fondly as she listened to Joza talk about the arrangements on Lianna. It sounded wonderful, like a luxury. Most of the galaxy took a hot shower, clean clothes, and a warm meal as givens in this life but Mystique had come to see those "normal" this as valuable gems.

At the mention of other people, Mysique felt a quake of fear through her body. She didn't know if she was ready to see other people yet, or what they would be like. Even with Joza's assurance, the half Zeltron felt a tingle of fear. She didn't want to not fit in, or to not be liked or--or--worse. She didn't think that this nice lady would put her in that kind of place, but still, it was scary. She would just have to choose to trust her.

"I--I l-l-lik-k-ke th-th-that," the dancer managed, unconsciously smoothing her hair behind her ear, "w-w-we c-c-coould h-have fu-un." but there was still something that she wanted to know, that she needed to know, even if its answer was one she wouldn't like, "W-wh-what c-c-an I-I-I d-d-do? A-ah-ah-ll I-I've e-eev-v-er-r d-d-d-one i-ih-is d-d-dan-n-ncing."

[member="Joza Perl"]